I Dare You
by shadowsontherun
Summary: 6 months into their bipolar partnership, Black Widow and Hawkeye are still trying to figure each other out. Coming from completely different worlds they work through missions that define who and what they are to each other. Set 9 years before "Avengers", watch Clint and Natasha build a partnership to surpass all others.
1. Chapter 1

**I dare you **

**Chapter 1 **

It all started back when they were both still strangers in an odd state of limbo between enemies and partners. There were no Avengers, no aliens, no magic and no one to boss them around out in the field where they called all the shots and either they did their job right or they didn't bother to come back at all.

Clint silently watched his partner from the corner of his eye growl in frustration as she promptly threw the binoculars she had been staring through for the last 3 hours onto the ground and angrily pushed herself to her feet. He noticed the way she was half limping and rolled his eyes.

"You need better posture while crouching for long periods of time – otherwise that is going to keep happening," Clint said without moving an inch from the initial position he took up at the edge of the ridge they were lying on. His riffle was exactly where he wanted it to be and he was going to keep it that way. He had no problem staying in one place for hours. However his partner was another story.

"Shut up Barton – I wasn't built for long term stake outs. I hunt targets – not wait for them to take their damn time in the burning sun," Natasha said as she tried to ignore the pain shooting up and down her calves – she should have been paying attention to the building tension but she was too damn proud to keep shifting her weight when he could lie still for literally days if he had to. The damn bastard pissed her off.

He chuckled at her irritated tone.

Sometimes he thinks there is an equal chance of her shooting him as there is of her saving his ass.

"Why the hell did we get a mission the middle of nowhere Barton?" Natasha asked pacing behind him to get some feeling back in her legs.

"Cuba is hardly the middle of nowhere Romanoff," he said as he continued to peer through his sniper scope and scanning the scarce dirt roads running along the base the cliff they were perched on.

"Holding a stake out in the Cuban mountains waiting for a drug trafficking convoy that may or may not pass by this location is what I consider a _shit_ mission in the middle of nowhere," Natasha muttered as she continued her swift walking. She was the running type – not the sitting for endless hours type.

"Patience, dear Natalia…is _not_ your strong suit," Clint said dryly. He didn't need to look up to see the scowl on her face.

She whipped a bag of bullets at his head in retaliation. He didn't even flinch – it made her even angrier.

"'Don't call me Natalia," she hissed. She hated that name. She hated everything related to her past – there was a reason she chose a new one when she accepted his offer to join SHIELD.

"You won't let me call you Natasha so what am I supposed to call you?" he asked with shrug.

"Romanoff is just fine," she said irritably. He didn't need to look up at her fuming face to feel the rage coming off of her in waves – whoever said Natasha Romanoff was emotionless was an idiot.

"After 6 months you'd think we'd get past last names wouldn't you?" he asked glancing up at the agitated Russian but otherwise made no comment about her intense dislike of anyone using her first name – whatever she chose it to be. He had the feeling last names were a way she kept a good 50 mile distance between her and the rest of the world. Well too bad for her – once you're Clint Barton's partner there is no way things are going to stay so cut dry and cold professionalism. He just didn't work like that.

"Get a different partner," she said without a second thought. He didn't even bat an eyelash.

"No," he said simply. Natasha shot him a withering look.

"Why?" she asked suspiciously. She never understood why he wanted to be partnered with her of all people. She didn't realize until she was already halfway through the SHIELD welcome mat that he was more than just a normal field agent – he was one of their best.

And before she came along he had always worked alone.

"Because I like mine just fine," he said with a half shrug.

"Apparently you are the only one," she muttered under her breath – he heard her easily because of the small distance between them.

"You have your own charm Natasha," he said simply – without any flowery buttering up. It was simply the truth –but she still didn't believe him. She never did.

"Yeah when I'm doing my job and pretending to be what targets want to see – I'm downright charming indeed," she muttered darkly. Clint paused as he listened to her bitter tone.

"I wasn't talking about the Black Widow – I was talking about you," he said without looking at her. He felt her stiffen immediately behind him and the silence that followed confirmed that she wasn't happy with him.

Sometimes he wanted to tell her to just chill the hell out and live a little – but then she would probably shoot him between the eyes and that would be the end of that.

"You know what I love about drugs Natasha?" Clint asked suddenly. Natasha glared at him.

"Don't call me Natasha," she growled. He ignored her and continued anyway.

"They make even _your_ lovely growls sound like sweet lullabies and conveniently – they are very, very flammable," Clint said holding up a packet of ammunition between his two fingers with a slight smirk on his face. Natasha narrowed her eyes at his little barb but couldn't deny his second statement. There was only one problem.

"You're going to blow us _all_ up if they're jacked up on ether of all things," Natasha said shaking her head. The man was insane.

"How much are you willing to bet on that Nat?" he asked with a devilish grin. Natasha was about to strangle the damn sniper.

"The fuck are you doing to my name Barton?" she shouted in frustration. Clint simply smirked and continued to watch for movement – not that he was really expecting anyone before evening. In the meantime inspiring Romanoff to pull her own hair out was a much more entertaining pastime. Natasha took a calming breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. Honestly – no one infuriated her like Clint Barton did. She still didn't know why she bothered to stick around. She could have ditched his sorry ass in any number of missions over the last few months – but she never did. She didn't analyze the potential reasons too closely. She didn't think she would like what she'd find.

"I'm trying to find one that fits," he said suddenly out of nowhere. She paused and gave him a quizzing look.

"What on earth are you talking about?" she grumbled falling back down to her knees beside him and picking up her previously abandoned binoculars. He smiled but didn't respond.

"What time is it?" he asked instead. She glanced down at her time zone synchronized watch.

"7:30 - 20 minutes to sunset," she answered swiftly. He nodded and went back to watching his target zone. She didn't bring up the explosion danger range again – but he knew it was bugging her. However, Natasha Romanoff never asked a question twice. It was little things like this that fascinated him about her in the first place.

"There is a reason I choose the curve of the mountain facing the ocean Nat," he said carefully. Natasha's eye twitched at the unwelcomed nickname but she forced herself to listen to what he was really saying. She glanced behind them at the cliff that went right over the edge and towards the 100 meter drop to the warm Caribbean waters below.

"I am _not_ jumping off a cliff 100 meters above the ocean level Barton," she said with a frown. He glanced over at her when he heard the odd hitch in her voice and waved in front of them.

"Then by all means come up with a better plan to destroy 3 trucks full of illegal drugs and an tiny army of dealers who know how to pack a punch," Clint said invitingly. She scowled at him.

"I could take them out," she said with a determined glint in her eyes.

"Oh yeah? Go right ahead and shine Russian firecracker," Clint said sarcastically. Natasha stared at him for a long moment.

"Okay," she said dropping her binoculars to the floor and rising to her feet to climb down the mountain.

Clint promptly grabbed her arm and yanked her back to the ground.

"Sit _down_ Romanoff and take the easier route for once in your goddamn life," he muttered shaking his head. Damn this woman - she just didn't have any limits did she?

"You doubt that I could do it," she said staring intensely at the hand still wrapped firmly around her wrist.

He knew she could easily turn the tables on him and have him disarmed and unconscious within seconds – but the fact that she _didn't_ spoke volumes of what she thought of him. Clint smiled internally. Natasha Romanoff was an open book when you got the right translator to read her.

"I don't doubt that you could beat the crap out of those idiots and still have time to merrily make your way with a few explosives to take out the cargo before sundown – the fact is that you don't _need_ to get your hands dirty for this job Natasha. I'm trying to tell you something important – take the hint," he said firmly but without malice. She crouched back down beside him and tugged at her wrist. He slowly let go and went back to readjust his scope.

"I still don't like the jump," she said gruffly from beside him. He glanced at her.

"Have you ever been skydiving?" he asked curiously. She snorted.

"Of course – one of my targets was a professional skydiver," she said like it was common phrase everyone used. Clint raised an eyebrow.

"Morbid," he said scrunching up his nose in distaste. Natasha shot him an annoyed look.

"Our entire _lifestyle_ is morbid – so shut the hell up," she said through gritted teeth. Something about how she said that rubbed him in the wrong way. He didn't know what exactly it was but maybe he shouldn't have said what he said next.

"At least _I_ have interests outside of my job," he said carefully. Her stony silence made him feel only slightly bad for what he said. Just a bit.

10 minutes later he started to feel just a _tiny_ bit worse.

"Fuck I'm sorry Natasha," he said with a sigh when he couldn't stand the echoing silence any longer. He was too used to the running insults and snappy commentary she always had going on in the back of his head while he kept watch of his post. She didn't even _look_ at him.

"I don't care," she said with a blank expression. He stared at her with his calm blue sniper eyes that could see things for miles and pierce you right through the heart no matter how fast you were running. He stared at her until he found whatever it was he was looking for.

"You do care," he said simply before he turned away. Natasha didn't bother to respond. He didn't leave it at that though. "Because you wouldn't be about to crush your binoculars into plastic sand if you didn't," he said without looking at her.

Shit.

She moved to get up again but he promptly tripped her with his foot and caused her to fall forward and nearly slam her face into the hard ground in front of her. She probably _would_ have broken her face if he hadn't shot out his forearm to break her fall and allow her to regain her balance.

"_Really_ need to learn how to accept you have emotions Natasha," he said shaking his head at her in disbelief.

"Emotions make you _weak_," she growled pushing his arm away. She didn't need his cocky attitude right now.

"Emotionless makes you a void," he shot back. Natasha finally had enough.

"Stop trying to be my friend or something equally nauseating Barton! I don't need your stupid advice and I don't need any emotions okay?" she shouted at him breathing in rapid breaths. He calmly waited until he was sure she wasn't going to pass out frim lack of oxygen before he said anything.

"Partners can be friends," he said cautiously after a few minutes. Natasha stared at him in disbelief. Did the man just never _stop_?

"Ugh!" she cried in frustration before she just ignored him completely.

They both took a break from all the bickering and went back to watching the roads like they had been doing all day. The silence between them was not uncomfortable – they didn't always have to fill it will unnecessary clutter of useless words.

Clint's entire body went on high alert when he caught sight of a flicker of movement around the corner of the road that curved in from the other side of the mountain.

"It's show time," he whispered to her. Natasha nodded. He closed one eye and focused on the three identical black trucks that rounded the corner at relatively slow speeds.

"It's the cargo trucks from the Intel photos right Nat?" he asked – just for confirmation. He had already memorized the photos. Natasha nodded from beside him.

"It's definitely them," she said firmly. His lip curved into a wicked smile.

"Good – no regrets then," he said as he aimed at the center of each truck as it passed by their vintage point. Three consecutive shots echoed around the mountain top. They all made a perfect hit with every single target. Mission accomplished – in 30 more seconds.

Now they were on a time limit to get the _hell_ out.

"Go! Go! Go!" he shouted as he threw the riffle over his shoulder and quickly strapped it to his back before he pushed off the ground and shove her towards the edge of the cliff. They have 30 seconds before the exploding bullets would ignite all the cargo and blow this convoy sky-high. And most likely take out a 60 meter radius of the mountain and land around it – including their little perch.

Natasha dug her heels into the ground and stared at the 100 meter drop with a wary expression. She clenched her fists at her sides – she just hated falling with a passion. Clint was behind her instantly while counting the seconds off in his head. He grabbed her firmly by the shoulders and spun her around to face him and not the foreboding drop.

"Are you scared?" he asked staring at her dead in the eyes.

"No," she said firmly. He stared at her carefully. She was telling the truth. She just didn't want to do it.

"Are you scared to die?" he asked gripping her shoulder tighter as the seconds got closer to detonation time. _Hurry up and do something Barton._

"No," she said staring back at him with equal intensity. He blinked - well that was an interesting thought to mull over later. He shook the thoughts out of his head and stared back at her.

"Well fuck that - I sure as hell am, so you are going to listen to me. Natasha Romanoff you are going to jump– with your eyes open, the adrenaline pumping through your veins and no parachute in sight because otherwise you are going to die a coward and I will be your damn witness. So who gives a shit if you're not afraid to die – but are you prepared to die a coward?" he asked giving her a penetrating look.

Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"I am _not_ a coward," she said with a dark look in her eyes. Clint wasn't fazed at all.

"Prove it," he whispered inches from her face. She took a deep breath and was about to turn around when Clint heard the countdown reach zero in his head – too late.

"Sorry, time's up!" he shouted as he shoved her off the edge and jumped after her just as a brilliant explosion covered the sky behind them and caused rocks and debris to fly over their heads - just barely missing them by millimeters.

"I hate falling!" she shouted as they were suspended in free fall for several seconds in the air. Her red hair was messily tangled around her face as she glared at him. She looked like a falling angel. Well…a very _scorned_ falling angel.

"You're a natural!" he shouted back with a stupid grin on his face as they rapidly approached the blue water below. He loved the rush – he loved that she hated it too.

"There's no such thing as being a natural at falling!" she shouted in disbelief just before they hit the water and got pulled into the strong underwater currents below. Natasha growled as she righted herself and kicked her legs into action to push herself towards the surface. As nice as water is with beautiful little tropical fish staring at her from all sides – she would really like some oxygen right now. She gasped she her broke through the surface and sucked in some much needed air. She glanced around and froze.

"Barton?" she said slowly. She didn't see him anywhere.

"Barton Where the _hell_ did you go?" she said angrily splashing around to keep herself above water. He wasn't in sight at all. Now this was pissing her off – this was _his_ brilliant idea in the first place.

"Clint answer me damn it!" she shouted as the worry starting edging into her voice even as she tried to beat it down. Damn him and his flashy mission finales. They always shave years off her already short life expectancy.

"You said my name," someone said from behind her in awe. She whipped around in the water and stared at a soaking wet Clint Barton with his hair plastered to his forehead and the oddest expression on his face. She realized she's never seen genuine shock on his face in all the time that she's known him. But then the anger promptly took over.

"What is _wrong_ with you, you bastard?" she shouted in outrage as she smacked him in the chest. He didn't look like he felt a thing. Suddenly a brilliant smile spread across his face and he did the last she expected from him – he started laughing.

"Have you gone insane?" she asked incredulously. Clint shook his head and suddenly dragged her forward and pulled her into a tight embrace. Natasha froze – that wasn't supposed to happen.

"Isn't it great to feel alive Tasha?" he whispered in her ear as he held her close to his chest. She let her hands hang beside her still in shock from what he was doing. He…he was _hugging_ her.

No one has hugged her in _years_.

He furrowed his brow when she continued to be unresponsive in his arms.

"Hey - are you okay?" he asked pulling away and giving her silence a worried look. She stared back at him with slightly glazed eyes – as if she was half here and half somewhere else lost in her thoughts.

"I like Tasha," was the first thing that came out of her mouth. For a second he didn't know what she was talking about – but then it hit him and if it was possible his smile had gotten even wider. She suddenly found herself being pulled back into another wet and soggy bone crushing hug.

"I like Tasha too," he whispered in her hair. She was too shocked by the _second_ hug in a row to hear the double meaning in his words. Maybe one day he'd build enough courage to actually let her know.

He'll need to make sure he has a bulletproof vest on that day.

**A/N: Clintasha feels – in a badass way! Ha ha – do not fear that this is only fluff! Their dares are going to get progressively worse as the chapters by. It will be amazing and full of awesome Clintasha. It's going to be a lot of Black Widow/Hawkeye missions too – lol am I the only one excited? **

**Review and let me know what you guys think!**

**Dare 1: Jump if you're not a coward. Jump because you need to feel alive.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**I dare you **

**A/N: So…awkward update. Well…I was bored with studying okay? LOL – fail. but I got good marks on my last few projects so I deserve to write! Now I shall go study for exams - mine start next week.  
**

**Chapter 2 **

Natasha confidently walked down a hall with several high profile people mingling off to the sides. She stood out as a relic in her deep red dress and killer heels. Her determined face was the only thing that would slightly throw you off. She scanned the busy hall and glanced up at the clock – it was nearly 8 o'clock. Almost show time.

She was pumping with adrenaline because she was _finally_ in her specialized environment.

"Looking good Romanoff," someone said in her ear. Natasha tensed but continued walking as if no one was there. Because she wasn't supposed to look like she was talking to herself.

"Shut it Barton and make sure you are doing your job," Natasha said tightly as she entered the ballroom she was looking for. It was beautifully decorated – but what else was new?

"I can compliment you and still watch the room at the same time Red," he said as he watched her through his sniper scope across the street from the mafia infested party they were crashing.

"Don't call me Red," she growled under her breath. Clint grinned.

"Whatever you say Tasha dear," Clint said pretending to sound like a whipped husband. Natasha narrowed her eyes and glanced out the window at the roof that was hidden in darkness. She promptly gave him the finger – she didn't give a rat's ass where she was. He was pissing her off.

There was a brief moment of silence at the other end of the communicator. As if he didn't believe what he was seeing for a second.

"That was rude Tasha," Clint finally said dryly. Natasha rolled her eyes.

"I am not a polite person," she said turning away from the window and scanning the room.

"I've noticed," he said as he watched her look for her target. It was difficult to see anything in the dense crowd moving around her.

"Do you see him?" she asked walking deeper into the crowd. Clint glanced around the room through his scope trying to spot the blond haired mafia boss that had been rubbing SHIELD the wrong way recently. He had been messing with several important operations. Frankly SHIELD didn't give a _shit_ about what the mafia was doing as long as they kept the crime underground and mass killings to a minimum. The mafia mostly dealt with business more than anything else. However when they started interfering with serious terrorist attack prevention operations there was a problem. They were here to give Marcus Hoffa a little warning.

"Turn around and look to your right," he said quietly. Natasha followed his instructions and finally spotted her target.

She paused as she took in the blond haired man. Straight posture, too wide smile, hair perfectly groomed, held the handshake with the host for much longer then strictly necessary. Host's wife did not look happy.

Well shit - _that_ wasn't in the SHIELD mission files.

Idiots.

"Change of plans Barton," she muttered into the communicator as she turned away from her path towards the target. Clint furrowed his brow as he watched her rapidly walk away and exit the room.

"What are you doing Tasha?" he asked in genuine confusion. Natasha Romanoff _never_ gives up on a target - never. There is not a man in the world she could not seduce.

"Get your ass down here," she growled as she waltzed right out of the party and stalked down an empty hall. He watched in confusion as she took her heels off and started pulling the pins out of her hair - she really _was_ leaving. What the hell is she thinking?

"Why?" he asked slowly.

"Target is gay," she said with an irritated look. She couldn't seduce a man into a room alone together when she didn't have his preferred parts.

Clint instantly paled.

"You're not saying what I think you're saying are you?" he asked cautiously as the dread started creeping up on him.

"What, are your acting skills not up to par with your aim Hawkboy?" Natasha asked with a slight smirk. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"I've played your role plenty of times in the past Natasha– don't think I can't seduce too," he said darkly. Natasha ignored the chill that went up her spine.

"Prove it," she whispered. Clint blinked – he didn't think she'd actually want to see him in action. Now that was _weird_.

"I don't have to do it though you know? We can just wait him out and corner him...," Clint said in confusion– but Natasha was ruthless.

"Ass in party _now_ Barton," she hissed.

"Alright _fine_," he muttered in defeat as he pushed himself off the roof and started making his way down to ground level. This was not going to be pretty.

"Why aren't you staying in the party with me?" he asked as he fixed his rough tux and quickly exited the building from across the street. Always prepared for the worst - and honestly this was the worst.

"Because you're a shit actor and an even shittier gay man and if I was in the room and you shot me one of your heated looks there is no way in hell they'll believe you swing their way," she said with the utmost certainty. Clint sputtered in shock.

"Hey, I don't give you heated looks!" he said in denial. He could practically _see_ her unamused expression.

"I can feel your stares on my ass from 50 yards away through your tiny little sniper scope Barton," she said blankly. Clint faltered in his step - who the heck can do that?

"I don't stare at your ass," he grumbled defensively. She scoffed.

"You're a _horrible_ liar," she said shaking her head. How can he work in this field and not even be a half decent bullshitter?

_Because he was a soldier first and then a spy_ something echoed in her ears. Natasha tensed – there were a lot of things different between her and Barton. They had few things in common at all – or at least she liked to think that. She didn't _want_ to know about his dark past – it might remind her too much of her own.

"I'm not lying - I don't stare at your ass, I stare your legs - you have killer legs woman," he said with a smirk. He knew the double meaning behind his words.

Natasha paused in her angry walk and debated on whether she should keep walking away or spin around and slap him before he goes into the party. The latter was much more tempting.

"Many pitiful men have perished because of my legs Barton," she said warily. He grinned boyishly even though he knew she couldn't see it - she could definitely hear it in his voice.

"I know - that's what makes them so hot," he said with a devious look. Natasha sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She really hated his filthy jokes sometimes.

"You need to shut up now and pretend you like balls over breasts," she said as she shook her head and continued her way out of the building. She didn't need to be a sniper to cover him. There were other ways of being good backup.

"Maybe I _do_ like balls over breasts," he said mysteriously. Natasha snorted as she rounded the corner.

"And maybe I'm a transversatile mermaid who likes to babysit little American bastards in her spare time," she said sarcastically. Clint grinned.

"Oh _burn_ Romanoff. The longer we are partners the more biting your retorts get - is that your way of showing affection?" he asked as he walked into the crowded party room and scanned for the target Natasha had basically ditched.

"You wish Barton," she said rolling her eyes. _Affection_. Ha! As if.

She didn't mention that she never talked to past partners in their entire partnership half as much as she talked to him during assignments alone. It would inflate his ego too much and potentially cause her to develop chronic migraines.

"A man can hope can't he?" Clint said flippantly. Natasha snorted.

"There is a difference between being hopeful and being downright arrogant," she said dryly. Clint was about to make a suggestive reply about how arrogance can turn people on when he caught sight of a perfectly jelled head of blond hair - oh yeah he was _definitely_ gay.

"Target in sight," he whispered as he circled the room and headed towards the bar. He ordered a drink and locked eyes with the blond.

"Does he look interested yet?" she asked staring at the exit 5 meters ahead of her.

"Oh yeah - definitely interested," Clint said raising his glass to the blond man leaning against the wall across the room. He gave a little suggestive smirk like he always gave someone else just to ruffle their feathers. Seems to work here just fine too.

"How are you managing to keep his attention?" she asked slowly - she didn't know if she actually wanted to hear the answer.

"I'm pretending he is someone else," he said calmly. Natasha paused with her hand on the door leading out the back. Her face was suspiciously blank.

"Oh," was all she said before she shoved open the door and walked into the chilly night.

Clint didn't have time to analyze her odd response because the target was walking over to him with purpose in his steps.

"Marcus Hoffa," the target said extending his hand out in front of him. Clint accepted his offered shake.

"Benjamin Ward," Clint said holding onto the shake just a bit longer then strictly necessary.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Ward," Hoffa said staring at him with very interested eyes. Clint might have been interested too if the mafia subordinate wasn't a target and if he didn't already have eyes on someone else.

Too bad the latter was as likely to happen as Fury was to go tap dancing with Hill on live television.

"Call me Ben," Clint said returning his look with a slight grin. Hoffa nodded.

"Then you should call me Marcus," he said pleasantly. _Well - at least he had decent manners and didn't jump Barton's bones the second he laid eyes on him_ Natasha thought silently.

"Why can't _all_ my targets be pleasantly gay?" she muttered bitterly. Clint nearly choked on his drink and coughed as it went down the wrong pipe.

"Are you alright Ben?" Hoffa asked with a worried look. Clint nodded and quickly regained his bearings. Natasha Romanoff was going to be the death of him.

"I'm fine - so tell me why are you here stuck in this dreary place of all places on a fine night like this?" Clint asked leaning into the target's personal space. Hoffa ears turned slightly red but he didn't seem to mind - not at all.

"Well I have a stake in the large business deal that is going to happen tonight at 9 after the party dies down - though it's not going to take much to kill this buzz," Hoffa said glancing around with a unimpressed look.

_Rip_.

"Fucking piece of _shit_ dress!" he heard someone growl in his ear. Clint smiled ever so slightly - Hoffa was watching him too closely not to notice.

"Did I say something funny?" Hoffa asked with a raised eyebrow. Clint laughed to cover up his slip up.

"Not at all - I was just thinking about how bored I was at this party until a moment ago," Clint said flashing him a boyish grin. The target looked thoroughly flustered. Ah, if only Clint really was gay - Hoffa had nice blue eyes. Too bad he preferred green ones.

"Well I'd have to say the same since this wasn't really an interesting crowd to begin with," Hoffa said sounding very pleased. Natasha scoffed at the other end of the communicator.

"I can't believe he fell for that - you're fucking cheesy as hell Barton," Natasha muttered in his ear severely unimpressed by his moves - like he knew she would be. _Not everyone is a special brand of weird like you are Tasha _he thought silently.

"Well it's only 8 right now. You have an hour to kill before this big meeting – wanna ditch this crowd and go somewhere else?" Clint asked with a suggestive undertone. Hoffa got the hint and gave him a once over look – he seemed to like what he saw. Clint sighed on the inside – apparently he was more attractive to gay men then certain women at the moment. The irony of his life.

"Not a bad idea – not a bad idea at all. Let me get my coat from the other room," Hoffa said as he nodded towards the door. Clint smiled encouragingly and followed him out of the noisy party.

"Maybe we could grab a bite to eat too? Something like pie? It's easy enough to find," Clint said smirking on the inside but carefully keeping his outward expression mildly interested. Hoffa raised an eyebrow as they walked down the hall and into a quieter room with much less people in it.

"Pie? What's so special about pie?" he asked curiously.

"Oh _shut_ _up_ Barton – easy as pie my _ass_! You just got lucky!" Natasha huffed in anger. Clint grinned – beaten at your own game Romanoff.

Victory was _sweet_ - as pie.

"Nothing – just in the mood for some pie," Clint said with a secret smile. Hoffa gave him a quizzing look but decided it wasn't a big deal.

"Want another drink before we head out?" he asked picking up his coat and nodding towards the bar.

"Sure why not?" Clint said with a shrug. Hoffa handed him a cocktail and picked one up for himself. Clint tried not to gag – he _hated_ cocktails.

"Yeah drink the disgusting stuff – you deserve it," Natasha muttered bitterly. Clint sipped the horrible drink if only to cover up his snort.

"So Ben – what do you do for a living?" Hoffa asked swirling his drink in his cup. Clint was about to respond when he paused as he heard a sudden silence in his ear – he couldn't hear Natasha breathing anymore. She was holding her breath for some reason.

"Oh _shit_," he heard her curse before she deliberately killed the line. His smile froze, but he didn't stop acting. Natasha Romanoff was in no way shape or form a damsel in distress. He knew full well that she could take care of herself.

But if the woman did not turn her communicator back on in 5 minutes he was going to ditch this entire mission and hunt her ass down anyway. Fuck the repercussions.

"I'm a fellow businessman – I work for a hotshot new computer software company," Clint said easily masking his intense worry. Hoffa gave him a mildly impressed look.

"Really? So you're _not_ a SHIELD agent who has just been having a secret conversation with your partner Agent Romanoff this whole time?" he asked casually.

Clint froze.

Oh – _that's_ why she said shit.

"You're good agent Barton - but you're not _that_ good," Hoffa said with a familiar drawl. Clint paused with his cocktail halfway to his mouth.

_Click_.

"Well...this is unexpected," Clint said staring at the gun in his face.

Darn, he wasn't going to get any of that pie now was he?

**A/N: Haha cliffy. Yeah I know – I'll post the rest of the mission tomorrow maybe- if I edit it on time. Review if you liked it! Haha obviously all the action comes in the second half of the mission…lots…and lots of action. **

**Dare 2: Be like me for once. Be the bait and see what it's like.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**I dare you  
**

**A/N: Haha so I was totally messing with you guys in the last chapter - but I sort of already wrote the entire mission. So what heck? Here is the second part. There is still more to this particular mission in the next chapter though (but i haven't edited it yet) I hope you enjoy this for now!  
**

**Chapter 3  
**

Clint and Hoffa stared at each other for several tense seconds. Clint was rapidly identifying all the hitmen in the room and wanted to shoot himself for not seeing any of this coming – Natasha wasn't even _here_ and she knew something was up.

Sometimes it hurt his pride just a _tiny_ bit to know that Natasha was a better spy then him.

But then he thought what the hell? He was partnered with the best and for some reason she didn't mind being partnered with him so it can't be that bad right?

"The compound is surrounded - there is no place to hide and nowhere you can run Barton. Today you are going to meet your match," Hoffa said with dangerous glint in his eyes. Clint was slowly reaching for his gun when the wall suddenly exploded beside them.

_CRASH_!

They all dived for the floor to cover their heads from the flying debris and smoke that suddenly clouded the air. Clint coughed as he rolled over to see what the heck just crash through a fucking wall. His mouth fell open in shock.

A black SHIELD car.

More specifically it was _his_ car.

Someone kicked the passenger door open from the inside and caused several mafia goons to go flying across the room.

"Get your ass in the fucking car Barton," the righteously pissed voice of Natasha Romanoff said from the driver's seat. Clint was never as happy to see his whirl winded partner as he was right now. Her eyes were blazing, her dress was ripped half way up to her thigh, she had a smoking gun in her right hand and she was driving _his_ car. He smirked. No time for poking fun at her right now.

"Why did you disconnect our line," he asked as he quickly jumped into the car and shut the door before she slammed her foot on the gas. They shot out of the hole she created and zoomed down the street. The mafia bastards were on her tail instantly. They were expecting this – shit they were being played the whole time.

"They had our communications hacked - I had to make sure they didn't know how I was going to save your ass," Natasha said driving dangerously close to the side walk and making sharp turns that even had _his_ stomach dropping.

"Huh. Well thanks for saving my ass," Clint said making sure to hold onto the side handle so that he didn't crash through the window by the force of her harsh driving. Natasha smirked as several cars swivelled off the street and crashed into a wall behind her – oh yeah she had mad skills and she was _not_ modest about it.

"Can't let you die yet Barton – SHIELD will think I orchestrated your death just to get away from your annoying ass," she said with a snort. Clint raised an eyebrow. He didn't let her know that SHIELD was well passed thinking of her as the enemy – no need to tell her that just yet.

"You love my ass," he said cheekily. Natasha gave him a disgusted look.

"Love to shoot a _bullet_ through it," she muttered under her breath. Clint whistled.

"Harsh Tasha so harsh," he said with a dramatic sigh. She was about to chew him out when she glanced to her right and suddenly slammed her foot on the breaks. Clint nearly flew out of his seat and would have crashed right through the window in front of him if he hadn't strapped his seat belt on. Damn those things save your _life_!

"Natasha what the hell are you – _holy shit_!" Clint swore as he noticed the 20 black cars speeding down the intersection beside them. They thought they only had _3_ on their tail.

"Hold on to your damn stomach Barton – this is _not_ going to be a smooth ride," she growled as she quickly put the car in reverse and they shot backwards away from the speeding mob of mafia cars.

This was not turning out to be a good day either.

"I'm holding on Tasha – but I don't think even your wonderful driving skills are going to get us out of this one," Clint said warily. Natasha shot him a burning look.

"I _know_ that! Come up with a better idea while I try to keep us alive for the next 5 minutes!" she growled at him. Clint furrowed his brow as he tried to think. Come on. Come on. They were going to die when they finally started shooting.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

They both ducked at the glass shattered behind them.

"_Fantastic_ the bastards finally figured out how to work their fucking guns!" Natasha shouted furiously. Clint instantly looked up with an accomplished look on his face.

"Keep driving - I have an idea!" he said as he quickly unbelted himself from the passenger's seat. Natasha glared daggers at their annoying tail and quickly glanced over at her partner.

"It better be a good one!" she growled as she yanked the wheel so that they made a sharp curve on a busy intersection and drove down another dark street with the entire fucking mafia on their tail.

"It always is!" he scoffed as he ducked under his seat looking for something. Natasha glanced in her rear view mirror and swore the number of cars on their tail has just multiplied in the last 5 minutes.

_Shit_.

"We're never going to outrun them Barton!" Natasha growled as she slammed her foot down on the gas and tried to take and many loops and turns as possible. It was futile - they were up against profession road racers. She didn't even _like_ cars!

"I know! I know! I have a plan!" he said as he quickly climbed into the back still frantically looking for something.

"I HATE _ALL_ YOUR PLANS!" she shrieked as she made a sharp turn right on a red light - the hell she cared about traffic laws. The police can go fuck themselves. By all means arrest them if they can stop the insane tag-team chase they were on. It's not like she hasn't had experience breaking out of prison before.

"Just keep driving!" Clint said over his shoulder in response to her doubting words. Natasha glanced behind her and froze. He was tying a grappling hook to an arrow. _Holy shit…_

"Barton...what on _earth_ are you doing?" she asked slowly.

"I'm improvising," he muttered as he glanced down at his work – he needed a knife.

He promptly leaned over her shoulder pulled up her dress, took one of her knives that were strapped to her thigh and went right back to work. Natasha blinked.

Her partner was insane. Absolutely bat shit insane. And she was insane for not giving a rat's ass.

"Take a right here and follow that main road Tasha!" he shouted from behind her. She furrowed her brow but did as he asked - it wasn't like she had a better idea. They both ducked as more bullets flew through the back window and shatters even more glass all over them.

"Whatever the hell you are doing do it _right now_ Barton!" she growled as she glanced at the bridge they were rapidly approaching. She whipped her head around to see no less than 30 sleek black cars on her tail leaving no way out except forwards.

Oh for god's sake she was going to shoot someone before the night was over.

Clint quickly hooked one rope around his waist and fell into the passenger seat beside her with his bow in his hand. He glanced up at where they were going and quickly unlocked the door beside him.

"Drive off the bridge Natasha!" Clint shouted over the loud sound of bullets flying past them and ricocheting off the metal surface of their car. Natasha whipped her head to the side to stare at her partner in disbelief.

"Are you fucking _insane_?" she shouted in anger.

He quickly hooked a second rope to her belt and they both glance up at each other as he locked it in place. He better be _joking_.

"Just _do _it!" he shouted as they both heard a gigantic explosion go off from behind them. They weren't going to last long if they stayed in this car for much longer.

"How do you know we're not going to die anyway?" she shouted back.

"It'll work!" he promised firmly. Actually...he was only about _80%_ sure it was going to work. Oh well - she didn't need to know that right now.

Natasha glared at him for several seconds debating on whether she was crazy enough to listen to him. Another loud bang went off and a car blew up 10 feet in front of them. Okay so maybe she _was_ crazy enough at the moment. Natasha growled and promptly yanked the wheel to the right and slammed the entire car into the metal railing. It gave way instantly and then they were literally driving off the edge.

Clint spun around and used his bow to shoot his makeshift grappling arrow out the window and watched it quickly wrap itself around the bridge railing and lock in place.

"This is going to be a _fantastic_ way to die!" Natasha growled furiously as she punched the wheel as the entire car started to feel weightless beneath her.

"We're not going to die!" Clint shouted as he instantly snaked an arm around her waist, shoved the door behind him open with his shoulder and dragged her out of the car as it continued to fall the rest of the way to its watery death. Natasha completely lost her balance as they fell through the sky for several tense seconds before Clint tightened his grip around her waist and they both got yanked back up by the rope he was still attached to.

They both held their breath until they were sure the rope wasn't going to give under their combined weight and they weren't going to fall to their death. There was no way of making sure they wouldn't hit any sharp rocks in the pitch darkness around them.

"I _hate_ you Barton," Natasha finally said murderously as she heard at the gigantic splash their car made as it hit the surface of the water and started rapidly sinking into the murky deeps of the river. That was a SHIELD car - and it was coming out of _her_ paycheck! Ugh!

BANG!

They both watched as a gigantic missile was fired into the sky and fell down towards the water and made a direct hit with their sinking car.

BOOM!

The entire car melted into the explosion and they saw huge flames erupt from the center of contact. The flames raced across the water and burned everything flammable in its path.

Natasha really wanted to die right now so that she wouldn't have to face Barton's smug expression if she was ever forced to turn around. Honestly, death was welcomed if it meant she wouldn't have to listen to his endless repeated of '_I told you so' _for the next week.

"Do you _still_ hate me?" he whispered in her ear as he wrapped another arm around her waist to make sure she didn't fall from the tiny rope they were suspended on.

"_Yes_," she replied irritably. She really did - but then again Natasha Romanoff hated _everyone_. He laughed and shook his head.

"Why did I expect anything less?" he asked himself. Natasha crossed her arms and refused to grace him with a response.

"Do you at least hate me less than everyone else?" he asked curiously. He felt her tense in his arms and her heart rate spike as they swung perilously back and forth 20 feet from the burning flames on the water.

In the end she still refused to answer. He smiled from behind her anyway.

Sometimes silence conveyed more than words ever could.

**A/N: Wow…Clint has so much freaking patience! Ha ha oh Natasha – she's so blind, but then again Clint is not trying to woo her – he needs her to trust him first. I hope you guys can pinpoint their indirect dares they are sending each other.****If not I'll post them at the end.  
**

**Dare 3: Drive off the bridge. We won't fall.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**I dare you **

**A/N: So the failed mission continues. It's about to get intense…depending on what you consider intense board line insane of course. **

**Chapter 4  
**  
Fury was pissed.

He was furious.

He was going to seriously _kill_ someone.

"What the _hell_ do you mean you're hanging off a bridge and your ride just blew up?" he shouted into his phone. Clint sighed internally. He knew he should have called Coulson – but Natasha insisted they called Fury this time – what was she thinking?

"That's exactly what I'm saying Fury," he said dryly. Fury's eye twitched.

"Did Hoffa get away?" he asked dangerously. He heard a pause before Barton replied.

"I wouldn't say he got _away_ because he is still actively trying to kill us..." Clint said warily. Fury narrowed his eyes. He swore he was going to stick Barton and Romanoff's ass on probation so fast their heads were going to spin. But first he needed them to stay alive.

"Do you want an extraction team to come get you?" Fury asked rubbing his forehead. No matter how pissed he was - he wasn't going to let two of his best agents die just because their mission somehow got completely screwed up. He suddenly heard a lot of shuffling and hushed arguing followed by a distinct _click _before he got any intelligible response.

"No - we're staying and cleaning things up," Romanoff's clear cut voice suddenly echoed through the phone. He heard an angry grumble of protest followed by a loud _smack_. The grumbles ceased immediately.

Sometimes Fury wondered exactly how their partnership worked - but then again all he really cared about was that it did.

"What type of clean up did you have in mind Romanoff?" Fury asked carefully even though he knew what she meant before she even said it.

"Permission to disengage the target completely Sir?" she asked with an air of professionalism. She could give a rat's ass about SHIELD and all their damn protocols - but she would never go against her boss.

Mostly because he was the only one she ever even _remotely_ respected. That didn't mean she had to like him though - as usual Natasha Romanoff didn't like most people. Hell she didn't even get along with most people. She barely got along with Barton on a good day.

"Permission granted - don't die Romanoff," Fury said with a warning look on his face. Natasha smirked.

"Only one important bastard is really going to die today," she promised before she hung up. Fury set the phone down and sighed.

When Natasha Romanoff smirked like that things got really messy, really fast.

Meanwhile under the bridge Natasha and Clint were still stuck together having a staring contest that would determine who would speak first. In the end Clint won – only because Natasha really didn't want to say something he would use to piss her off. Even though she knew he would manage to do it anyway.

"So – com links are bugged. What are we going to do now?" Clint asked finally taking the dead communicating chip out of his ear. Natasha pulled up her dress to reveal a small pouch strapped to her thigh. She opened the little pocket and pulled out two perfectly new working communicators. Clint raised an eyebrow in question.

"I had a hunch these would come in handy on a mission eventually," she said with a shrug as she passed him one. Clint rolled his eyes.

"Always prepared for everything eh Tasha?" he said sounding mildly impressed. Natasha sighed and gave him a wary look as he replaced the bugged com link in his ear with the new ones.

"Not quite everything," she muttered under her breath. Clint paused as he heard her quiet statement – it could mean a whole host of things – but they didn't have time to explore any of them right now. Instead he dug out the same knife he had swiped from her person and had stashed in his pocket before their spontaneous jump.

"Cut your rope Tasha and climb up," he said shoving the knife into her hand in front of him. Natasha stared at the knife sitting in her palm for several seconds.

"I cut the rope and I'll fall," she said blankly. He tightened his grip around her waist and leaned forward to brush his lips against her ear.

"I'll catch you," he whispered. He felt her stop a mid-shiver and quickly steel herself to do the task she was assigned. He chuckled as he watched her battle whatever internal fight she was having with herself.

Natasha Romanoff may have sworn off all emotions for life - but some things run deeper than your iron will.

"You better Barton," she muttered as she stared at the rope attached to her belt which was the only other thing besides Barton's arms that was preventing her from falling to her death. Natasha took a deep breath and slashed right through the thin rope. She didn't move an inch - if anything he just held her tighter.

"Come on Tasha - can't hang here all day you know," Clint said with a cheeky grin and he nudged her shoulder and urged her to start climbing. Natasha huffed.

"Are you making me go up first just so that I have to do all the work pulling you up?" she muttered as she carefully turned in his arms and stared at him inches from his face. His boyish grin was back - and it was pissing her off again.

"Why ever would you think that Tasha?" he asked playfully. Natasha sighed.

"Whatever. Don't let go," she said threateningly as she grabbed onto the rope above them and used his shoulder as leverage to hoist herself higher onto the rope. Clint pushed her up to help her gain height but made sure to keep a steady grip on her the entire time.

"I'll never let you go Tasha," he whispered. Natasha heard him loud and clear and froze as she balanced herself on his shoulders. She stared at the rope in front of her with a hard look on her face.

"You walk on dangerous grounds Barton," was all she said before she started quickly pulling herself up and onto the metal rails that ran along the underside of the bridge. The surface was still brimming with mafia goons who were looking for them. She dragged herself onto the thin metal bar and poked her head over the edge.

"Maybe I should just leave you here!" she called out to him - she wondered what he would say. Clint smirked and held up a familiar gun for her to see. She instantly glanced down at her side and realized hers was gone.

"Aw fuck you Barton!" she shouted angrily as she started pulling his rope up. That was her favorite gun! Clint continued to smirk.

"Can't be partners with a sneak without being sneaky yourself," he said as she finally managed to pull him up to her location. Natasha glared at him and held her hand out impatiently.

"Give it back," she growled. He raised an eyebrow and stared at her angry expression for a second - it was kind of cute - in a _she-could-kill-him-in-less-then-30-seconds_ kind of way. Obviously Clint had no self-preservation skills because he promptly leaned forwards, flipped up her ripped dress and shoved her gun back into the holster she had strapped to her thigh.

They stared at each other for several tense seconds.

"I will shoot you one day Barton - mark my words," was all she said before she started climbing sideways along the bridge. Clint laughed and followed her lead.

10 minutes later they were back on solid ground and quickly making their way through the dark streets trying to figure out how they were going to get Hoffa - without having the entire Mafia breathing down their necks.

"I'm really starting to get sick of this bastard," Natasha muttered as they silently made their way down a deserted alley. Clint snorted.

"Try being the one who finds out he was fake flirting with the target who knew fully well who I was from the start," Clint said gruffly. Natasha smirked ever so slightly.

"I take it back you know," she said after a few minutes of silent walking. He glanced at her curiously.

"Take what back Tasha?" he asked slowly. He tried not to think about what he _wanted_ her to take back.

"You are a pretty good gay man after all," she said with a shrug. Clint sputtered beside her in shock.

"Gee don't inflate my ego too much Tasha," he said sarcastically. Natasha snorted.

"Your ego doesn't need any more inflating anyway you arrogant bastard," she said shaking her head at the idiot. He wagged his eyebrows at her.

"You know it gets you all hot and bothered Tasha," he said with a suggestive smirk.

She gave him the coldest unimpressed look he had ever seen.

Okay so it might take a bit more to melt Natasha's icy exterior.

"Barton don't make me hu-" she started to say but froze as she noticed something flicker on the roof of a building behind him.

"What are you looking at Ta-" he never got to finish because the next thing he knew she was roughly shoving him to the ground as a rain of gunfire poured over their heads. He hit the ground with a grunt as Natasha whipped out her gun and shot 2 clear shots towards the center location where the shooting was coming from. Only half of the bullets stopped firing. Natasha growled because she couldn't see a _thing_ from this angle. She quickly rolled off of him and dragged him by his collar behind a dumpster.

He calmly let her shove him up against the wall so that they were both shielded from most of gunfire. He didn't look fazed at all. What the hell?

"Have you finally lost your mind Barton?" she shouted over the rapid gunfire. He blinked.

"No - it just gets kind of old how predictable the bad guys get," he said with a shrug. Natasha tensed.

"I was never predictable - predictable got you killed," she said darkly. He smiled at her.

"I know - that's why I liked you - you were different," he said calmly. Natasha suddenly looked wary.

"Different is not always good," she said turning away from him. Clint furrowed his brow and was about to ask what she meant by not good - but he never got around to it because...

BOOM!

...The dumpster just caught on fire.

"Alright time to move!" he said jumping to his feet and dragging her with him.

"Oh _now_ you care about not getting shot!" she said sarcastically as he pulled her around the corner. He shot a grin over his shoulder as they ran for their life.

"Not really! It's just that now it's like we're running away together Tasha!" he said cheerily.

Natasha shot him a disgusted look. It was like he was throwing up rainbows and kittens and telling her to jump in.

"How on Earth did you even _survive_ as an assassin for 3 years?" she asked in disbelief. She watched his face unexpectedly darken as he glanced around to make sure they weren't being followed.

"You don't really want to know Tasha," he said carefully. Natasha narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

Now that made her wonder what goes on in his crazy head behind all the sarcasm and cheekiness. Clint Barton was far from simple and transparent. Sometimes she thought he was even _more_ closed off then her. Except his walls were built with arrogance and a devil-may-care attitude while hers were built with deadly glares and ruthlessness.

They really were two extremely messed up people weren't they?

"Everyone has ghosts Barton," she said cautiously as they avoided all the alleys they thought they heard boots running down. She felt his grip tighten around her hand as he continued to pull her along.

"The day you tell me yours I'll tell you mine Tasha," he said firmly. Natasha froze.

"Not gonna happened," she growled. He shrugged, undeterred by her predictable response.

"I have time," he said simply. She angrily glanced away.

"You probably already know everything there is to know about my past anyway – I wouldn't put it past SHIELD to have an entire file dedicated to the Black Widow's history," she said bitterly. Clint paused and suddenly slowed down.

"I never read it," he said turning to look at her. She tensed as he took a step closer to her and grasped her by the shoulders staring at her with his intense blue eyes.

"I never read your file. All I know is the basics that were necessary during the mission when I had to take you out. Aside from that all I know is what you decided to tell me – and it hasn't been much Tasha – but if you told me just one detail out of your entire life – it would mean more to me than if I learned about every assignment the Red Room program ever sent you on from a screen. I'm waiting for the day you _want_ me to know," he said quietly watching the emotions storm in her eyes even as her expression remained deceptively blank.

"Don't wait for something that will never happen," she said pulling away from him and kept moving. They were still being hunted – but at the moment there was no one around except them. Clint took a deep breath as he followed after her and steeled his nerves for what he was about to do. It was always hard to take the first step.

"My brother was killed in fight 6 years ago," he said quietly falling into step beside her. Natasha didn't visibly react – but he could feel the tension vibrating off her in waves. She remained silent for several minutes. He thought she was just going to pretend he never spoke until she finally responded.

"My parents died in a fire when I was 4," she said quietly. He nodded and left it at that. It was more than he was ever expecting from her. He was about to ask her what they were going to do next when she suddenly stopped walking.

"It's too quiet," she said tensely. Clint suddenly looked around and realized she was right. Where did all the gunfire go?

They heard a distinct clapping come from behind them and tensed. They both spun around with their guns raised and came face to face with Marcus Hoffa – and his _entire_ posse behind him. They were waiting for them to pass by.

"Bravo Romanoff – always were the sharpest agent weren't you? Bit late though since you're already cornered," Hoffa said as he walked into the alley with the sea of his men behind them. Natasha and Clint both narrowed their eyes. If they were going to go down they were going to damn well make sure this pathetic piece of shit went with them.

"Piss off Hoffa," Natasha said threateningly. Hoffa laughed.

"Why so serious Romanoff? You take the fun out of the chase you know? And now you have come to the end and have nowhere to hide agents! Your organization is seriously too nosy for their own good. Sending their best agents after a lowly businessman like me? How pitiful. You're names are all over the black market at the moment. You have been pissing off the wrong-" Hoffa was just getting started with his predictable speech.

Natasha and Clint glanced at each other as Hoffa continues to rant. They shared a bored look before they promptly ran in the opposite direction even while he was still threatening them. No one said you have to wait until the villain was done their long winded speech before you hightailed it out of there.

"...and you will rue the day – wait, where the fuck are you going?" Hoffa shouted in outrage.

Clint sent him the finger as Natasha dragged the smirking archer around the corner and out of sight.

Hoffa growled and spun around to glare at his men.

"Well what are you all waiting for? Get them!" he shouted red in the face. His men glanced at each other and shrugged before they shot down the alley. Usually their boss talked for a bit longer but whatever.

"Where are we going Tasha?" Clint asked as they ran down darker alleys with fewer lights to throw off their tail - it was wishful thinking.

"I have no fucking clue!" she said as they rounded a corner and came face to face with half of Hoffa's men. They all froze.

_Cricket...cricket..._

"Not this way!" she shouted before she shoved Clint back the way they came as bullets flew over their heads.

"No shit!" he muttered as he nearly fell flat on his face from the force of her shove. They finally decided to ditch the alleys altogether and started running down a street lined with several shady warehouses. Joy.

They ran past several locked entrances and heard the stampede not far behind them. Natasha growled as she took out her gun and shot the lock off one of the doors.

"Shit - they are just going to keep cornering us until they get a shot at one of us!" Natasha growled as they crashed through the empty warehouse and slammed the door shut behind them. They were both out of breath and exhausted from all the running – but they couldn't stop. They had less than 30 seconds before the place was overrun with hitmen.

Clint suddenly froze in place and stopped running.

"Tasha you need to go," he said without looking at her. She rolled her eyes.

"We can't leave before we kill Hoffa Barton - and besides the only way we're getting out of here is probably shooting our way out," Natasha said with a snort.

"I didn't say we - I said you," he said holding out his gun and pointing it at her forehead. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"What the fuck are you playing at Barton?" she hissed completely undeterred by the gun in her face - he wouldn't shoot her. She knew him long enough to know that now.

"Leave Tasha," he said pushing lightly against her forehead with his gun. She clenched her jaw.

"Stop trying to be so self-righteous Barton! It's not a good look on you!" she growled. He smiled softly at her and removed the gun from her head - but then he promptly pointed it at his own. _Holy shit. _

"I'll shoot myself if you don't leave right now Tasha," he said determinedly. Natasha tensed.

"You're not suicidal Barton," she said darkly. Clint put his finger on the trigger.

"Trust me – go," he whispered. Natasha clenched her fists and glared dangerously at him. The bastard left her no damn _choice_.

"You better have a plan Barton or you're not going to die from your own bullet," she said with dangerous promise before she spun around and sprinted around the corner and burst out the back door. Clint sighed in relief – but for only a moment.

The front door instantly slammed open behind him and Clint knew he was in trouble.

He heard several _clicks_ echo around the room and sighed. Joy. The party was here.

"No sudden movements Barton," Hoffa said threateningly. Clint raised an eyebrow as he slowly turned around and came nose to nose with 40 different firearms pointed at his face.

Wonderful greeting indeed.

**A/N: Holding your breath anyone? **

**Review and let me know what you think they'll do :)  
**

**Dare 4: Run or I'll shoot you. Cause I can't think with you still here.  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**I dare you **

**A/N: Gasp look I updated again! Haha loved your reactions to the last chapter. Enjoy :) **

**Chapter 5 **

Clint listened to Natasha's steady but tense breathing as she ran for it in his ear. _Keep running Tasha_ he thought silently. He locked eyes with Hoffa and raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure you're safe yourself Hoffa? No one is going to shoot you down from up high are they? You are a high profile man after all," Clint asked glancing up at the ceiling with a curious look on his face. Natasha froze as she listened to his cryptic words and quickly spun around to frantically scan the rooftops. _Bingo_. There was one sniper perched on the building across from her. She silently made her way across the street hell bent on making sure at least Barton could see all the weapons aimed at him. She couldn't do much more. He totally screwed himself over. That bastard.

"Shut up Barton - everyone in the vicinity are my men. Even if you miraculous get through all of us - you're still as good as dead," Hoffa said with an evil smirk. Clint tensed – well this wasn't looking too good.

Natasha took a deep breath as she noiselessly walked onto the roof and silently raised her gun before she fired a single shot. The sniper dropped to his knees and fell to the floor. She shoved his deadweight over and took his place. Natasha peered through the sniper scope and tensed as she saw the sheer number of men surrounding her partner with guns at the ready.

There was no _way_ she could take out 40 men before one of them shot Barton.

"I took out the sniper. I can see you - but I can't take them all out Barton," she said angrily. It just wasn't possible. If anything she only had one good shot.

Clint glanced away from the window and locked eyes with the man who was going to have a dangerous Russian with a vendetta against him if they shot this lowly SHIELD agent. He didn't doubt that she would get him - he just wished he could be there to see it.

"Well if I'm going to die - I'm glad I didn't have to fuck you Hoffa before I went. I was saving myself for the prize," Clint said staring at the angry looking mob boss standing off to the side of all his men circling the calm SHIELD agent.

Natasha tensed - _the fuck was he talking about?_

"You got really nice eyes though you know? Even better if they were green. I might miss those," Clint said with a shrug. Hoffa sputtered as he stared at the cornered man in disbelief.

"Have you finally gone insane Barton?" Hoffa asked in disbelief. Clint gave him a careless grin - but it wasn't really aimed at him. It was meant for _her_.

"Nah Hoffa apparently I was crazy since the day my mother gave me life," Clint said with a snort.

Natasha smacked her hand against her forehead. He was an _idiot_.

"Don't you _dare_ fucking die on me," she growled. Clint smiled softly.

"Someone once told me they weren't afraid to die you know? So I'll take a leaf from her book and say - go fuck yourself Hoffa and I _dare_ you to hit me with your best shot," Clint said spreading his hands out ready to take a clear shot. Natasha froze.

A clear shot.

Natasha was no expert long distance sniper. Her style was up close and personal. But that didn't mean she couldn't do it.

"Are you wearing the damn vest?" she growled through the com link. She watched him give the barest nod while he was still staring at all the guns trained on him on all sides. There was no way he was getting out of there alive though - they would make sure he was thoroughly dead before they dumped his body in some unsuspecting pit.

Like hell she was letting that happen.

She took a deep breath and peered into the small sniper scope to get a good visual. She carefully aimed the rifle and shot him in the chest as far from the heart as she could manage without making it looking like she was deliberately trying to miss.

BANG!

She watched Clint's body crumple to the ground and instantly started running towards the exit from the roof. If they thought he was dead they were going to be after her now. _Shit_.

"The second they're all out of there tell me that you're not fucking dead!" Natasha shouted as she flew down the stairs and burst out the back door of the building across the street. She shot down the back alley and started sprinting as far away from Barton's location as possible.

Getting shot with a Kevlar vest wouldn't kill you - but she was damn well sure she broke half his ribs.

Natasha heard the pounding of over 40 hitmen behind her and started sprinting even faster. She freaking loved running - but he was seriously dampening her exhilarated feeling by not responding.

She heard 2 clear shots echo from the other end of the line and nearly faltered in her step as she rounded a corner. Natasha Romanoff _never_ faltered. She was _never_ hesitant. She steeled her nerves and took several deep ragged breaths as she ran across several empty ghost streets with a blazing tornado of gunfire behind her. But she tuned all of that out as she waited for something from the com link - anything. She heard nothing but silence after that. Natasha slammed her eyes shut and kept running.

_She was going to be alone again. _

_She was going to be on her own again. _

_She was going to be left behind again. _

She was going to run until she couldn't feel her legs anymore - and even then she would keep running.

Natasha froze as she heard a body hit a wall and a gun clatter to the floor.

"Not...dead..." he growled severely out of breath and the burning pain bleeding through his tone was obvious. He sounded like he was about to pass out.

But he was fucking _alive_.

Natasha finally let herself breathe and slowed down from her insane speed and started weaving through the alleys with a clear goal in her eyes. Barton was relatively safe - but now she was going to fucking kill every single last one of these bastards.

Every. Single. Last. One.

Because one of their bullets had been meant to kill her partner.

Meanwhile Hoffa and his men were still prowling the back alleys hunting for Russian spies.

"Where did she go?" Hoffa asked slowly with a dangerous glint in his eyes. His men were running up and down all the alleys in this neighborhood and for the last 10 minutes they couldn't find tail or hind of the annoying SHIELD agent. They killed her partner - now they just had to wait and see if she was heartless enough not to seek revenge or smart enough to get the hell out.

They all heard the loud crash echo in the distance and quickly made a dash for that location - no one was crazy enough to still be in the neighborhood since all the fighting started. It had to be her.

Natasha counter the seconds as she dangled her feet over the edge of a dumpster and the rumble of boots hitting the hard floor got closer. She had a single gun in her hand - but she was only planning on using a single bullet.

Hoffa and his gang rounded the corner and took up the entire length of the street as they looked around for the hidden spy.

"Natasha Romanoff! We know you're here - too proud to run away and too scorned and blinded by revenge to see that you are heavily outgunned, outmanned and outsmarted by-" his little speech instantly got cut off by a single fire of a bullet that grazed his cheek and left a trail of blood on his face. He tensed but didn't flinch.

They all knew that was a deliberate miss.

"Shut the _fuck_ up Hoffa," someone said from across the street. They all tensed as they watched the Black Widow step out of the shadows and into the street light across the road from the entire East end mafia gang facing her with their guns raised. Hoffa narrowed his eyes at the deadly assassin. But she was just one woman – how much damage could she really do?

"Did you kill Clint Barton?" she asked deceptively calm. She didn't bother scanning the crew and just trained her deadly gaze on the ring leader - Marcus Hoffa himself. He narrowed his eyes - she was insane to not be threatened by his entire gang.

"Yes, and we're going to kill you too Romanoff," Hoffa said threateningly gesturing to his men. She gave him a blank look.

"Wrong answer," she whispered dangerously before she pressed a button in her hand and the entire street blew up. Natasha spun around and stalked away from the blazing flames exploding behind her. She didn't mind the heat – she had been _born_ from fire. She steeled her gaze and ignored the police cars zoning passed her as she walked away from the scene with a determined look on her face.

Natasha Romanoff doesn't miss her target.

**A/N: Intense. Don't mess with the Russian assassin. Mission is not over just yet. One last chapter before we finish this long ass mission. Clint are you still hanging on? **

**Dare 5: Shoot me. And she did. ****Damn. **


	6. Chapter 6

**I dare you **

**A/N: So here is where my T rating comes in. Please do not be offended by foul language and other mature content. It's not M…but yeah. Just go with it. **

**Chapter 6 **

Fuck.

Clint was _this_ close to just letting go and passing out while leaning against the dirty wall of the warehouse with two dead mafia members lying on the other side of the room. His hands were shaking and he couldn't see straight anymore. He felt like there wasn't enough oxygen in his lungs because it hurt to breathe so _fucking_ bad. He doesn't know exactly how many – but he was sure she hit several of his ribs on his right side. Everything was a blur of colours around him. He _thinks_ his gun is lying on his right – but it could be on his left – he couldn't tell.

The only real thing keeping him awake was Natasha's deep calming breaths in his ear as she walked away from what sounded like a _brilliant_ explosion. The woman was insane.

"Got a magnificent temper I see Tasha," he said gruffly as he leaned his head against the wall. She clenched her jaw as she stalked down the dark alleys with a single-minded stride. She doubted anyone survived the explosion but she gripped her gun in her hand just in case.

"You won't blow me up too if I royally piss you off will you? It's not an occupational hazard I should be aware of is it?" he asked trying to ignore the painful squeeze on his lung as he fought back a chuckle. Natasha narrowed her eyes – why was he talking? Who the _hell_ talks this much after nearly dying?

Clint god damn Barton.

"We're a kickass team you know? Even if everything did go to - _oh shit_," he coughed clearly in pain as one of his broken ribs started jabbing his lungs the wrong way. He wheezed as he covered his mouth trying to stifle a painful gasp. He was seeing stars for a few seconds as his vision flickered black for a second.

"_Stop talkin_g!" she growled finally fed up with his pitiful attempts at having a conversation. He was going to fucking kill himself before she even got there! He smiled weakly through the pain.

"She _speaks_," he said in relief. He had just wanted to hear her voice. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"I'm not going to sing a fucking duet with you after killing off a target Barton," she said angrily. He grinned even though it hurt like hell – he still grinned just for her.

"Wanna sing one with me on our next mission _before_ we kill the target?" he asked cheekily. She didn't respond right away – he furrowed his brow. She glanced down at her gun with an odd look on her face.

"You're not going on any missions for 2 weeks Barton," she said distantly. Clint tensed. _The fuck?_

"That's not true – I'll be up and running within 3 days tops," he said firmly. Her expression didn't change.

"I didn't fracture your ribs Barton – I cracked them right in the center," she said slowly. Clint froze.

"How the _hell_ do you know that?" he asked angrily.

"We both heard the crack Barton," she said warningly. He glared at the floor in front of him.

"You're an asshole Romanoff," he sulked. All he got was tense silence in response. She didn't give a _shit_ what he thought. He was going to take a break whether he wanted to or not.

He tensed as he heard the back door creak but relaxed when all the sounds he heard on her end matched what he was hearing around him right now. He watched a dark and deadly redhead appeared in the doorway and stare at him with the danger she possessed lurking eyes and a dark energy pulsing around her. He knew it was just a side effect from the adrenaline pumping through her veins after she got her target. But it still always gave him the chills. He wasn't sure if it was fear he was feeling. He didn't want to know what that tug in his chest meant. He completely fucking _ignored_ the heat pooling in his stomach. But he couldn't ignore the blood rushing south of his entire body. Suddenly he was very aware of a terrifying fact.

Holy shit he was being turned on by her _I-just-killed-someone_ face.

He started breathing rapidly – he was so fucking messed up.

He knew she wasn't here to kill him.

She was here to save his ass. Or more likely _kick_ his ass.

He preferred the first option.

"Barton…are you okay?" Natasha asked tensely as she crouched down beside her partner who was leaning heavily against the wall breathing in ragged breaths. She didn't know the real reason behind his loss of breath. She really would kill him then. She thought it was because of the pain. On top of that his hair was plastered to his forehead, he was drenched in his own sweat, his eyes were glazed over in serious pain and she doubted he was going to stay conscious for much longer.

Basically he looked like _shit_.

"I'm gonna live –we already established you only cracked like _3_ of my god damn ribs!" Clint said sarcastically. He didn't mean to snap at her. But he was so damn _pissed_. His body was suddenly showing him the ultimate betrayal and he just realized the short term suspension from missions was a very likely reality. Natasha ignored his tone and missed his internal battle as she assessed his condition with a calculative gaze.

"So nothing is wrong with your face right?" she asked carefully. He furrowed his brow while trying to beat down the intense _blazing_ desire he was feeling for her with his iron will. He was losing the battle as she stared at him with her serious green eyes. He hoped she couldn't see the heat in his. He hoped she thought the glaze was from the pain. Because if she made one wrong move he was going to snap and do something he might regret.

And she just might shoot him dead for real today.

"No – why?" he asked slowly.

BAM!

Natasha promptly punched him in the jaw and knocked him to the ground. She flexed her hand tightly and glared at him.

"OH _FUCK_!" he shouted in pain. It killed him inside that that turned him on even _more_. What the fuck is up with his body? Was he a masochist or something?

"Don't you _ever_ make me shoot you again," she growled dangerously at him. He groaned and slammed his face into the floor. Don't talk to me like that Tasha. _Please_. He couldn't handle the intense heat shooting up and down his body at the moment. He emotionally couldn't deal with wanting _her_.

So he fought it.

"You're a fucking beast," he growled without looking at her. _God damn it_ that stung. It burned right through his body and ignited this insane yearning he didn't think existed in someone like him. Sure he wanted women before. He had his fair share of women too. But not like this. Nothing like this. What the fuck _was_ this?

"How much pain are you _really_ in?" she asked seriously. He scoffed – _now_ she cared? After nearly causing him to explode from the fire she started and nearly breaking his jaw at the same time?

"Other than my burning face? Enough to pass out soon," he muttered into the ground. And the fact that he felt like he was being burned alive. He didn't mention that part. She nodded completely oblivious to his internal battle between spitting at her and roughly slamming her body up against a wall and furiously kissing her until she finally fucking showed some reaction- he froze.

WHAT THE HELL WAS _THAT_?

"I'm going to knock you out for the ride home Barton," Natasha said firmly. Clint's eyes finally shot up to hers and if she wasn't busy making good on her word she might've noticed something weird in his eyes. Something that might have shocked her just as much as it was currently short-circuiting his brain.

"Wait wha-" he started to protest but Natasha had already moved forward to pinch him behind the neck and he blacked out.

He hated having a partner who could get the best of him sometimes. He _really_ hated that she completely screwed him over with her sexy death stares and her anger that only managed to fuel his damn desire instead of shutting him up. But most of all he absolutely _despised_ that she didn't seem to feel any of it at all. Damn her aloofness. Damn her control. Damn _her_.

But fuck he still wanted her. Damn. Damn. Damn.

**A/N: **_**Someone**_** is in intense denial. Sure he sort of liked her before – but he never wanted it to control him. Now he is freaking out while Natasha is completely clueless – from his POV. Your world turns upside-down when everything changes on one side of the relationship but nothing seem to change on the other side - doesn't it? **

**Good luck Agent Barton – you'll need it. **

**P.S. He's hurt and in extreme pain. Keep in mind people are vulnerable and not completely in control of themselves when they are hurt. **

**We'll see Natasha's thoughts next chapter. Don't judge her too harshly. **

**Dare: No dare.  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**I dare you **

**Chapter 7 **

Natasha stared at the road in front of her as she drove in the dark on a deserted interstate highway at 3 am. After she effectively knocked Barton out cold she hijacked one of the mafia cars and strapped him in before they started their 3 hour drive back to the SHIELD base in New York.

She wasn't bored though. Not at all. She had a lot to think about for the next 3 hours.

Mostly surrounding the crazy emotions flying through her partner's eyes 5 minutes before he passed out.

She's not stupid.

She saw the intense look in his eyes before she purposely knocked him out. He had wanted her. That wasn't new. She wouldn't even care if it was any other male high off testosterone. But this was her god damn partner. And he was _not_ allowed to look at her like that. She was originally going to continue to pretend it wasn't there and see what he did but something was bugging her.

She gripped the steering wheel tighter in her hand. She didn't care that he wanted her. What _really_ put her on edge was the fact that she knew he wasn't wanting a made up version of her. He wasn't lusting after a façade – because he _knew_ her. She made damn well sure he knew exactly what she was like under all the pretty masks she put on for targets. She was not pleasant. She was not girly. She wouldn't take any shit from him and when he pissed her off he was going to know it. She would shoot him if she ever got the feeling he was double crossing her. But she would shoot herself before she ever went back to the Red Room either. Natasha clenched her jaw.

She was _never_ nice to him. Never gave him the impression that she wanted anything from him. Never tried to seduce him. Never showed any stupid romantic inclinations whatsoever.

She was downright fucking _cruel_ to him. And she knew it.

And yet he wanted _that_ Natasha Romanoff.

She growled as her hands starting shaking ever so slightly. She was _furious_.

Because damn it he was scaring the _shit_ out of her!

"_Ugh_!" she screamed in frustration and she shot a burning glare at the man sleeping innocently beside her.

What is _wrong_ with him?

Who does he think he _is_?

Waltzed into her life with arrows flying and then suddenly decided today was the day he would put down his bow and spare a life because of _what_? That she didn't kill a child that was in her way of her target? Ha! She didn't need to kill the child. She could have just waited until the child moved to take the politician out. It was simply a matter of timing. So she waited. And that was why Clint Barton had the 20 second time frame where he could have shot her.

But he didn't.

He didn't take the shot. And she still owed him a fucking debt. Worst of all he won't let her repay it. No, instead he makes her his fucking partner and now they go on their merry way jumping from assignment to assignment being damn spies and killing off bad guys and making the world a better place blah, blah, blah _– UGH! _

Natasha slammed her foot against the breaks and roughly pulled the car over to the side of the highway. She shut the engine off and slammed her face against the steering wheel.

She felt _sick_.

She felt like dirt sitting next to a man like him. Cheap, pathetic filthy _dirt_.

He shouldn't want someone like her.

She wouldn't want someone like her.

_No one_ has ever wanted someone like her.

She wasn't the girl men dreamed about marrying one day. She was the cheap ass tramp they had a go with in a shitty motel in the middle of nowhere. Natasha Romanoff has been used again and again so many times in her life that she just didn't fucking have it in her to care anymore.

She would never be like him. She could never truly be on his side – whatever this side was. She just wasn't a good _person_.

Natasha took a shaky breath and buried her head in her arms.

Because Clint Barton had a conscience.

Natasha Romanoff did not.

She stayed there for several moments debating on whether she should just leave. She could just pack up and quit. She could walk out of his life and he wouldn't have to make any life altering decisions. Natasha laughed darkly. Because Clint Barton didn't seem like he actually _liked_ the fact that he wanted her – which also threw her for a loop.

She sighed and glanced at the lightly snoring archer.

Or she could stay. Beat the crap out of him until he was clear with where they stood as partners and two people who spent unhealthy amounts of time together. She would never jeopardize their tentative partnership because of something as stupid as lust. You can get over lust. She knew Barton could too. She smacked her head against the wheel again. The only reason she would leave was if it wasn't just lust. _Then_ they had a problem. But right now she was willing to write it off as pain induced insanity on his part. If only to preserve her own sanity.

Time to make a choice.

She stared at the dashboard and watched the time tick by. She took a deep breath and was about to choose one when she tensed as Barton suddenly shifted and his head fell onto her shoulder. He mumbled something about pancakes and how they were better than vodka. She snorted. _Nothing_ was better than vodka.

She watched his sleeping form rest on her shoulder for several minutes. His face was resting against her neck and most of his weight was resting on her shoulder. She could feel his soft deep breaths warm her skin as he continued to sleep on her. His hair was still stuck to his forehead after all the sweating he did and he smelled like _shit_. But he also tried to keep her safe – even though in the end she had to save his _own_ sorry ass. No one risked their life for her before. No one was stupid enough to think that she was worth it. But for some inexplicable reason – he did. The idiot.

She slowly reached up and used her hand to brush the hair out of his eyes and comb her fingers through his soft hair. It was softer then she thought it would be. Barton wasn't anywhere _near_ what was considered conventionally handsome. He was too well build, too stiff, too sharp and too rough around the edges to be considered pretty. But then again he wouldn't be good at his job if he wasn't all those things.

Natasha sighed. But after years and years of handsome men proving again and again that they were a bunch of professional _dickwads_ she didn't give a rat's ass of what they looked like anymore. They were all the same. Always using woman and then throwing them away. She saw it all the time while in Russia and sadly things weren't that different in America either. They were just better at hiding it here. It was less public. Girlfriends were pushed around behind doors inside of on the streets. She learned the truth from a very young age - the world just wasn't a nice place.

Natasha paused in her motions of brushing his hair when his lips connected with her skin.

"_Tasha_," he sighed in his sleep. She tensed.

She was getting soft. Damn.

"You annoy the _shit_ out of me Barton," she grumbled before she roughly shoved him off of her and started the car. He promptly smacked his face into the side door and groaned in pain as he slid down the window.

"Beast," he muttered under his breath. She snorted. Yeah, yeah she was the beast. But she was going to stick around for a bit longer too. She pressed her foot on the gas and they were on the road once again.

They were finally going home and sleeping in a damn real _bed_ tonight.

**A/N: So what is tough Natasha's version of affection? Realistically not much. Ha ha hope you still found it cute and finally understand what has been going through her head over the last 6 months. Now wake up Barton and let's have a chat once we're back at SHIELD and getting poked by doctors. And face some paperwork and a pissed Coulson. Ugh.**

**Dare 6: I dare you stay. I dare you to find out what would happen if you don't leave. (indirect)  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**I dare you **

**A/N: Chatting time. No Coulson yet actually.  
**

**Chapter 8 **

Clint slowly came back to conscious and debated on whether he should open his eyes. He groaned as he shifted and felt his entire torso flare up. It was painful – but thankfully it didn't hurt to breath anymore. He decided it was a good idea to figure out what happened between now and back when Natasha basically knocked him out cold. He slowly opened his eyes and got a face full of red hair.

He blinked.

That was new.

He glanced to his right and sure enough the rest of his partner's head was lying on the bed beside his pillow and the longer strands of her hair actually reaching out to him. She was sitting on an uncomfortable SHIELD chair with her head in her arms a slight frown on her sleeping face. He chuckled softly. Even in her sleep Natasha was frowning at him. It was too damn sad. He reached up to run his hair through her hair but then something stopped him.

"Poke me and I'll break your damn hand," she said without opening her eyes. Clint froze.

"You're awake," he said the first thought that crossed his mind. She snorted and slowly rose from the bed completely alert and not looking drowsy at all. Now that made him wonder if she had been really sleeping at all.

"I was just…resting my eyes," she said slowly. He snorted.

"You haven't slept in probably 30 hours. You most likely drove us all the way back here after the fantastic merry chase we were on for an hour. You've been sitting here since we got here because your uniform is still covered with my blood so you obviously didn't have enough time to change. You are halfway to being passed out yourself Tasha," he finished warily. She scowled at him and his annoyingly accurate observations and promptly jabbed him in the stomach. He doubled over in pain immediately.

"OH _SHIT_!" he wheezed in pain. She glared at him. Annoying bastard.

"Don't push me Barton," she said warningly. She was not in the mood for his incessant need to hold a conversation with her.

"_Beast_," he muttered as he clutched his stomach. She never changed.

"That's getting old," she said narrowing her eyes.

"_Motherfucking_ beast then," he said childishly.

"Don't make me knock you unconscious again Barton," she growled. He paused and stared up at her with careful eyes.

"Why did you knock me out for the entire ride Natasha?" he asked slowly. He didn't think he would like her answer. He didn't think she would give him a good one either. He didn't consider the possibility that he already knew why.

"You needed to be knocked – you were groaning too much from the pain anyway," she said clenching her fists at her sides and staring back at his storming eyes.

"You're _lying_ Tasha," he said cautiously. She tensed – he needed to shut up _right now_.

"Shut up Barton - you're in a hospital. _Sleep_," she ordered. He shook his head slowly.

"Tell me why you knocked me out first," he demanded. She glared at him.

"I just told you why," she said irritably. He narrowed his eyes.

"We already established you're lying," he shot back. Natasha finally cracked – he was so damn _annoying_.

"I saw how you were looking at me yesterday Barton," Natasha said darkly. Clint tensed. Damn it –_ he knew it. _Damage control time. He wasn't two shits to the wind like he was then – he had more control now.

"I don't want to sleep with you Natasha," Clint growled immediately. Natasha raised an eyebrow as he suddenly went on high alert…as if she was going to attack him or something. Natasha snorted. She wasn't _that_ sadistic.

"You're entire body is saying the opposite," she said dryly. Clint glared daggers at her –_bloody daggers._

"I don't give a _fuck_ what my body is saying. Listen to my _words_ Romanoff – I. Will. Not. Sleep. With. _You_," he said deadly seriously. She tensed.

"_Why_?" she asked narrowing her eyes. Clint shot her a burning look – the murderous kind.

"Because I'm not one of your _fucking_ targets," he spat. She would have winced if she didn't have such enough control to stop it from happening. She doesn't only sleep with targets – in fact she hasn't had to sleep with a target to get her job done in _years_. She only ever had to seduce until she had them alone. Then the dark side of the Black Widow would scare the crap out of them and do the rest. But he didn't know that. And she wasn't going to fucking tell him either.

"You don't know me Barton," she said angrily. He narrowed his eyes. He had enough.

"You're right - I _don't_ know you," he said darkly. She clenched her jaw and waited for him to leave - like they always did. Instead she watched the darkness fade but the anger still remained.

"I was _trying_ though Tasha! I was trying to get to know who Natasha Romanoff is!" he said heatedly.

"You can't," she said stiffly.

"Why _not_?" he asked angrily.

"Because I don't even know who she _is_ anymore!" she shouted. Clint stared at her in disbelief.

"You'll _never_ know who Natasha is outside of her job if she's always locking herself away and hiding from the rest of the world like a damn _coward_!" Clint shouted back. Natasha finally cracked – she knew she was about to say something she would regret. She said it anyway.

"I'm not the only one hiding from the world Barton! I'm not the only fucked up person in this room. When you said your brother died in a fight who killed him?" Natasha asked accusingly. Clint tensed. Too smart.

"When you said your parents died in a fire who caused the spark?" he shot back with equal accusation. She narrowed her eyes. Bastard.

The stony silence that followed was deafening.

They glared at each other for several minutes - both of them knew it was equally likely that they were going to shoot each other as it was that they were going to stomp away. Neither of those two things happened. Instead Clint finally looked away and sighed.

"Maybe you're right Natasha - maybe we're not ready to learn about each other's past," he said quietly. Natasha tensed.

"Don't call me Natasha," she said quietly. He gave her a quizzing look.

"Why do you only like it when I call you Tasha?" he asked carefully. She looked away.

"You should rest Barton - otherwise I'll shoot you again and make sure you break _all_ your ribs," she said giving him a pointed look before rising to her feet. He quickly leaned forward and grabbed her hand before she could walk away. He felt immensely proud of himself when she didn't break his hand and actually let him grip it tightly. He stared up at her with his too blue eyes that were saying a hundred different things he knew she didn't want to hear. So instead he said something that she did.

"You're a decent sniper," he said softly. Natasha snorted. She actually snorted.

"Stop kidding yourself Barton - I am a shit sniper compared to you and we both know it. Don't give me unnecessary compliments - I don't need them," she said firmly trying to tug her hand out of his grasp but he only held on tighter. He watched her grow wary under his gaze but continued to bore holes into her as she stood in front of him. Natasha Romanoff doesn't like compliments - well good thing he doesn't give them often. Not the real ones.

"Horrible snipers would not have been able to make a shot from that distance and miss the heart by 3 inches on purpose," he said firmly. Natasha tensed. He had noticed. Shit.

"Dumb luck then," she said with a shrug to cover up her telling reaction. Clint didn't even blink.

"Face it Tasha - you _want_ me around. You don't want to be alone anymore," he said challengingly. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Just because I saved your ass once doesn't mean I'll do it again next time. Pull a stunt like you did yesterday and I might just let you die," she said warningly. Clint suddenly shot her a biting grin – one that held spite and anger and was like a double edged sword. She hated it.

"You're a horrible liar yourself sometimes Natasha Romanoff," Clint said suddenly very calm. Natasha glared at him. What the fuck was going on with him?

"Barton sometimes you make me want to just _strangle_ you to death!" she growled in frustration. Clint's grin suddenly lost its dark bite and turned playful. She was having whiplash. The man was shuffling through masks so fast her head was going to spin. So he _was_ just like her. Damn. He was showing her how convincing his were too.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

All their playful conversations flashed through her head.

He was even better than her.

Fuck.

"So kinky! Didn't know you had such an animal in you Red," he said wagging his eyebrows at her. He laughed heartily when she looked like she was about to explode. He was messing with her! The fucking bastard was messing with her head!

She didn't even know what was real about his anymore.

She _finally_ understood why he was considered one of SHIELD's best agents.

It took her 6 damn months.

"Shut up Barton. _Just_ _shut up._ I get it okay?" she said angrily pulling at her hair. He suddenly stopped laughing and sighed. He was finally done screwing with her. He simply watched her fume in front of him as she calmed down. She didn't know if she should believe his finally _genuine_ looking expression. She didn't trust it. Frankly she still didn't trust _him_. Not that she trusted him too much before either. But definitely not anymore.

Not after he showed her he could fool his genuine feelings as easily she can. She can't even tell if he is lying anymore.

_Fuck_ she underestimated Clint Barton from the very start.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly after several minutes of tense silence.

"I don't care," she muttered. He smiled weakly – _was it even real?_

"You did – now you're just deciding _not_ to care about me anymore. There is a difference," he said calmly. Natasha tensed – something just clicked. _Shit_.

"Why did you ask me to be your partner Barton? Why did you _really_ decide not shoot me in Berlin?" she asked without looking at him. He sighed. She picked things up faster than he thought she would.

"I was tired of being alone," he whispered honestly. She whipped her head around to glare at his open expression. He was waiting for the verbal attack. She narrowed her eyes – he wasn't going to get it.

"You're not alone Barton – _I_ was alone. You have people who actually care about you as a person in this freaking tin can," she growled clenching her hands into fists. Clint gave her a steady look.

"How many of them actually understand people like us Tasha? How many people can even tell when you're screaming on the inside if your masks are that good?" he asked giving her a pensive look. Natasha shook her head and shut her eyes.

"I'm not _like_ you," she growled. He gave her a sad look.

"Then why are you shaking like that?" he whispered. She took a shaky breath. She had to be sure of something. Otherwise she couldn't stay here anymore.

"Barton?" she asked quietly without opening her eyes. She didn't want to see his face right now. She was just focusing on his voice.

"Yeah Tasha?" he said just as quietly.

"Have you ever lied to me over the last 6 months?" she asked carefully. He paused as he listened to the odd tension underneath her words.

He knew she was going to use his answer to make some important decision. He took a deep breath.

"No," he said truthfully. He heard a knife clatter to the floor. The sound echoed around the silent room. She had made her decision.

She got up and left.

Everything changed between them now. Nothing was going to be the same after she realized Clint Barton was much more clever and calculative then she gave him credit for.

She would not make that mistake twice.

**A/N: Ha ha I just spiced up Clint's character. To give him a good chance of getting this darker and rougher Natasha to fall for him he needs to be equally if not more capable of lying, faking his emotions and being able to figure out when she's faking hers. Also this makes him more interesting. Sorry for all the plot twists! It's just how I write haha. **

**P.S. Yeah she would have killed him if he said yes. **_**That**_** is how complicated their relationship is. **

**Dare 7: I dare you to see the real me. I dare you see that I'm just like you. (she didn't take that very well)  
**


	9. Chapter 9

**I dare you **

**A/N: So…do you guys like hand to hand combat?**

**Chapter 9 **

_1 week later._

Clint was fed up. He hasn't seen hind or tail of Romanoff in a week and the doctors only just let him out of their damn clusters. He stalked down the SHIELD hall with such a determined look in his eyes that no one dared to stop his single-minded stride. He was on a mission - a mission to hunt down a god damn Russian spy.

She fucking ran away.

He threw open the door leading into the SHIELD base shooting range and stared at the empty space with careful eyes. He noticed the bullets still lodged in the boards and a gun sitting innocently on the table across the room.

She was here.

He took a step into room and tensed when he felt a familiar presence.

"_Someone_ is angry," a voice said steadily from behind him. Clint clenched his jaw.

"Someone is a damn coward who left her partner to die from boredom in SHIELD medical for an entire fucking _week_," he growled without turning around to look at her. He was shaking with barely controlled rage. He thought she had fucking left. No one told him otherwise either. Something about his damn health. Oh yeah like stressing out about if his partner was somewhere on the other side of the world potentially getting herself killed or plotting his death in some dark and dreary place was somehow good for his health. Natasha snorted and crossed her arms.

"What happened to all your shocking control and masks Barton?" she asked raising an eyebrow in question. He suddenly spun around and shoved her into the wall. She had a gun trained to his head before they even heard the thump of their bodies clashing together. He completely ignored the lethal weapon.

"I don't need them outside of the field - unlike _someone_ I know," he said dangerously leaning into her. She glared at him and dug the gun harder into his skull - he didn't even flinch. Even when he knew she would definitely shoot him if he continued down the path they were going.

He didn't give a shit.

"Oh _please_ - you expect me to believe you've been honest with me this _whole_ time? After the stunt you pulled last week?" she asked in disbelief. He narrowed his eyes at the angry redhead. She just didn't _get_ it.

"Yes I do - because everything between us was real Romanoff. You can't fake a lifesaving partnership for 6 damn _months_! I was just trying to show you I'm just like you!" he said angrily.

"You have one hell of a way of showing it!" she shouted as she clenched her hand around her gun. She tried not to think about how her hand was shaking. She could shoot him if she had to. She wasn't weak. She didn't need him. She didn't need _anyone_.

"I was _angry_!" he shouted slamming both his hands against the wall on either side of her face.

"You are a fucking _liar_!" she growled in outrage.

"It's our _job_ to be liars Natasha!" he growled back as she shook in rage in front of him.

"Stop calling me Natasha!" she hissed. Something in his eyes snapped.

"_No_. You are going to fucking deal with it because it's the name you chose and it's what I'm going to call you for the rest of your god damn life!" he shouted smacking the gun right out of her hand. He didn't stop to consider that the only way he was able to do that was because she let him.

"How do you even know if you'll even be around for the rest of my life huh? We don't have a long life expectancy in this job Barton. How do you know if we're even going to stay partners for much longer?" she growled grabbing him by his shirt and shaking him. He made her so angry. He confused her so fucking much. He grabbed her hands and ripped them off his shirt and slammed them into the wall beside her head.

"Because I have no intentions of letting you go Tasha. No _fucking_ way are you leaving without giving me a good reason for why you are going to ditch my ass. I was halfway to hallucinating because of the pain in the warehouse. None of that stuff you saw counts okay? It was the _only_ thing that wasn't real!" he shouted. He hoped to _god_ it wasn't real.

"Why should I believe you?" she growled as she roughly hooked her ankle around the back of his knees and forced him to bend backwards before she tore her hands away from him, spun them around and slammed his still bandaged body into the wall she was just cornered against herself. She shoved him so hard he saw stars when his head dangerously smashed into the concrete. He blinked away the pain and glared at her even as he found a laser sharp knife digging into his neck and a furious assassin who never failed to get a target in her entire life glaring back at him.

"Why would I lie to you Tasha? Why would I go through all this trouble to get you to trust me? Why would I almost _die_ for you?" he asked her angrily. Natasha didn't want to listen to his angry words anymore. She didn't _want_ to trust him anymore. Because she was terrified of what would happen if he ever betrayed her.

"How the fuck should I know you _bastard_?" she growled before she threw the knife to the ground and swung a furious fist aimed at him face. Clint instantly ducked and heard the wall crack under the impact of her deceptively strong hands. Her fist was bleeding from the solid contact - they both knew it and she didn't give a shit.

"You have trust issues bigger then Mount Everest you insane woman!" he shouted as he swiftly dived to the side and another knife instantly materialized in her hand and whipped past his face and left the barest scratch that bled evenly across his cheek. He narrowed his eyes – she was playing with _fire_. Close enough to feel the heat but never quite jumping in.

"_Stop talking_!" she growled as she shot forward to kick him in the head but he was faster and managed to block the blow and force her drop her hands to the floor and flip herself backwards away from him and then quickly jump to her feet once more. They both took several deep ragged breaths as they glared at each other.

"No! You are going to fucking listen to my voice until what I am saying gets into your thick Russian skull!" he shouted clenching his hands into fists. She glared at him before she started just trying to land a hit anywhere on his body – but he had quicker reflexes. He was more agile and light on his feet then she thought. That made her even angrier! Because there wasn't a damn man she ever met who she couldn't read like an open book.

And then she just had to meet Clint _god damn_ Barton. _Ugh!_

"You Americans just don't know when to _shut up_! I don't _want_ to talk to you anymore!" she shouted as she threw punch after punch that were instantly being blocked or redirected by an expert hand to hand combat soldier.

"God you never _listen_ Tasha! You never hear what I'm actually saying!" he shouted irritably avoiding all her slightly more artless blows aimed at his face. She was starting to be careless.

"Fight back you bastard! Fight back!" she demanded angrily. Clint gaped at her.

"What the hell do you _think_ I'm doing woman?" he shouted in disbelief as he dropped to the ground while she suddenly picked up her fallen gun and freaking _whipped_ it at his skull. They both heard it smash into a million pieces against the wall behind him. She glared daggers at him even as she was starting to run out of breath. Clint quickly jumped to his feet and blocked another one of her brutal punches.

"You're being a damn _coward_! I am trying to kill you! Fight back!" she shouted as she finally managed to catch his off balanced and shoved him to the ground before she dropped on top of him and had her knife against his throat within seconds. He felt the pain of his back hitting the floor paralyze him for a second before he steeled himself and glared up at her. She was breathing rapidly as her dark green eyes burned into his flashing blue ones.

Where the _fuck_ does she hide all these sharp objects on her thin body anyway?

"Tasha if you were really trying to kill me I should already _be_ dead," he said darkly before he flipped them over and instantly grabbed her wrists and held them above her head as she angrily struggled against him. He used his heavier body weight to his advantage and pinned her to the floor.

"Fuck you Barton!" she spat at him. He glared down at her fuming form. Her red hair was lying messily in all direction over the floor and making the fire in her eyes even more pronounced. She was the picture of deadly magnificent _rage_. And he was burning from her heated flames.

"Go fuck _yourself_!" he shouted back heatedly. She promptly kneed him in the gut and flipped them over again even while he still had her arms locked over her head. He winced from the sharp pain of being hit so close to his injuries but he didn't let go.

"I _hate_ you!" she screamed at him from above as she tugged her trapped hands. He squeezed her wrists hard enough to force her to drop the knife and have it clatter to floor beside them.

"I hate you too!" he shouted up at her. He knew she was about to gut him again so he quickly flipped them over and locked her legs in place with his knees. He was becoming exhausted from fighting her. No, he was being drained from _emotionally_ fighting her.

"I never lied to you Tasha! Not once! You just don't believe me!" he growled inches from her flushed face. She was so angry she was shaking.

"What about the 3 weeks I was in intensive interrogation after you brought me in huh? You said you would be with me through the whole thing – you weren't _there_!" she shouted. He stared at her in disbelief – where was _this_ coming from?

"I already told you they wouldn't _let_ me!" he shouted incredulously. She growled and continued to tug at her imprisoned hands.

"What about all your stupid little jokes? When we were stuck in the middle of the storm in Miami you were sprouting absolute _garbage_! I looked like a drowning rat!" she said bitterly. His mouth nearly hit the floor in shock – how does she remember all of this?

"You _were_ pretty looking like a drowned rat!" he said angrily.

"It even sounds stupid when you say it _now_!" she growled.

"Doesn't mean it's not true!" he said irritably. Natasha opened her mouth to continue her angry list of his apparent lies but he wouldn't let her.

"Tasha eventually you are going to run out of excuses!" he growl cutting off her next accusation. She suddenly steeled her eyes – will the woman never _stop_?

"Let. me. GO!" she shrieked.

"NO!" he shouted. Natasha was finally fed up with the stalemate in their fight. She wanted to hurt him so bad! Because she has been hurting for so fucking long and there was finally someone who she could take her anger out on without her having to give a rat's ass about what they thought or what they would do to her. Because angry Natasha is not who has successfully killed hundreds of people across the globe – that was all the cold and calculative Black Widow. No, this Natasha just wanted to punch something until she couldn't feel anything anymore.

Clint was starting to realize just how messed up his partner really was – how messed up they both were.

She couldn't stand being pinned down any long and promptly smashed her head against his forehead. He blacked out for second and she instantly threw him off of her. His vision came rushing back a second later and they both rolled in opposite directions. They grabbed the first gun they saw in sight and pointed it at the other's forehead. They stared at each other breathing rapidly as a hundred different emotions clashed between the two unstable assassins.

"Shoot me and I'll shoot you," he said completely out of breath and ignoring the pain ripping through his chest from the half healed broken ribs. His SHIELD doctors were going to kill him if he survived this madness.

"I can shoot _faster_," she said with deadly promise. He narrowed his eyes.

Suddenly the door beside them slammed open to reveal a righteously pissed Nick Fury. _Oh shit._

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?" he roared from the doorway. The entire fucking base could hear the chaos that had erupted in this room.

Natasha and Clint didn't even look away from each other for a damn second.

"Piss off Fury," Clint said warningly. Fury narrowed her eyes.

"I will fucking kill _both_ of you if you do not put down your guns right now!" Fury snarled.

Nobody moved an inch.

"GUNS DOWN NOW OR YOU ARE BOTH GOING ON PROBATION!" Fury demanded with the threat very clear in his tone.

Natasha and Clint both tensed. Fucking paperwork. They both slowly lowered their weapons but didn't dare break eye contact. They didn't need guns to kill someone. Frankly they didn't need anything except their raw fists to beat the shit out of each other.

"In my office – _now_," Fury said dangerously. Natasha and Clint continued to glare at each other with so much intense hatred Fury didn't even understand how they managed a higher success rate in their missions in 6 months then most agents did in 5 _years_.

There was something seriously _wrong_ with these two assassins.

_5 minutes later. _

Fury glared at the two silent bruised and battered partners standing stiffly beside each other staring at him with matching tense expressions. He glanced down at Romanoff's twitching empty hands. He narrowed his eyes – they were children compared to him. He was _the_ spy.

"Remove the knife from your fucking sleeve Romanoff," he ordered evenly. She clenched her jaw and whipped a knife at his wall and they all watched it sink in 3 inches deep. It was _so_ coming out of her paycheck. Fury rubbed his forehead angrily.

"First of all - do I even _want_ to know what shit exploded between you two?" he asked steadily. They both tensed and didn't make a sound. It was too fucking complicated to even begin to explain. Fury got that feeling too.

"You know what? No. _This_? I don't want to deal with this. This is not my job. If I was anyone else I would have you both disposed of because of your obvious instability and liability to the code and ethics of this organization," Fury said angrily. Clint felt Natasha grow still beside him. She was mapping out her exit strategy – he felt like doing the same but he knew Fury better than that.

"But I am not everyone else. I have a better idea. You know what I'm going to do? I'm sending you both on a mission – _right now_," Fury said as he slammed a folder in front of the two tense agents. They stared at him with blank expressions.

"What?" they both asked expressionlessly. Even Clint did not expect that.

They nearly fucking annihilated each other.

And then they get sent on a mission as punishment? What the fuck?

He read the confusion in their eyes due to his unusual reprimand and glared at them.

"Exactly. You wanna act like aggressive, uncontrollable criminals? I will make sure you are treated as such. You two are going to jail. Specifically Aranjuez high security prison in Spain," Fury said glaring at both frozen SHIELD agents.

"What?" they repeated their previous statement in disbelief. They sounded like a broken record.

"You heard me. Get your ass on a plane. Find a bar – beat the crap out of each other there instead of here and land your ass in this jail because you have 18 hours to make sure ex-agent Antonio Vargaras has his memory wiped before he compromises 12 high profile operations running in Spain right now. He is in prison because he wants to be there – we can't kill him from the outside when he is under 24 hour watch. You will deal with your shit in the next 4 hours and you will get this job done. If you can't wipe his memory you kill him and get the fuck out. Any questions?" he asked with a lethal glare that dared them to question him.

They stared at him in dead silence.

"Good. Get your asses off my base _now_," Fury said pointing to the door.

**A/N: Wow…I have never written something that angry in my life. You know the only reason they stopped was because of the paperwork right? lol Irony. Fury is a mad genius. Seriously. He couldn't be the boss of so many deadly agents like Natasha and Clint otherwise. They follow him for a reason. They stick around in SHIELD for a reason. **

**P.S. That is it for all the anger. They're going to calm down next chapter and figure out how to work together again after everything that just exploded between them. **

**Dare 8: I dare you to fight me. Because you're just going to leave me right?  
**


	10. Chapter 10

**I dare you **

**Chapter 10**

Natasha and Clint were both silent as they quietly sat next to each other on an empty overnight train that was meant to take then into Madrid the capital of Spain. Neither of them were particularly tired after taking turns sleeping on the flight across the Atlantic. Now it was just a waiting game. They have an hour before they would reach their mission destination. They had an hour to deal with their shit and start their mission. Fury was a genius to put them on a time limit. That _bastard_.

"Natasha…?" he started to say softly. She didn't want to hear it.

"Don't say it Barton," she said without looking at him. Her eyes were fixed on the moving blurs in the window beside her. Clint wasn't going to let this simmer between them though – they could die if they weren't focused during the mission. Infiltrating a high security prison to kill a high profile convict wasn't a joke.

"Shit got real Natasha – we can't ignore it," he said cautiously. She sighed and placed her head in her hands.

"What do you want me to say Barton?" she asked quietly. He gave her a wary look.

"I don't know – just…_talk_ to me," he whispered. She took several deep calming breaths and raised her knees to her chest and buried her face in her arms. He wanted to comfort her somehow – but he was afraid to even _touch_ her after the terrifying fiasco that went down 8 hours ago.

He made sure not to touch her ever since.

Natasha took a deep breath and he waited for what she was going to say.

"I have never lost control like that in my entire _life_," she whispered. Clint sighed – he was afraid of that.

"You weren't the only one there don't worry," he muttered beside her. She shook her head.

"But I started the fight – I'm the reason we look like we just fought through a war," she said warily glancing at her beaten and bruised partner. There was a large scratch across his cheek from her knife, he was holding his arm at a weird angle and she thinks she might have added bruises to his already colorfully bruised ribs. She really did a number on him.

"I didn't do a very good job of deflating it," he said guilty. She looked away - she was a horrible partner.

"I went too far – I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"No, don't worry about it," Clint said shaking his head. He had already forgiven her before the fists had even started flying. Honestly in some deep dark corner in his screwed up head he didn't even mind that she had beaten the shit out of him. He felt like they were both just trying to get rid of all the pent up anger and pain that has been welling up inside them for all these years. Which brings him to a worrying thought. She's not going to like it.

"You know... if I didn't know you better – I would think that was your first emotional breakdown," he said quietly. She tensed and suddenly an iron wall went up on her emotions. Typical.

"The Black Widow doesn't have emotional breakdowns," she said dangerously. Clint glared at her.

"Stop it Tasha. Just stop it. Stop trying to put up barriers - especially when they are full of pathetic holes at the moment," he said firmly but with an edge in his tone. Natasha glared back at him for a moment before she realized they were about to go right back to where all this shit started. Instead she redirected her glare to the ground so that she could calm the fuck down. Defending her reputation had become an instinctual reaction. But Barton actually knew what she was like on a good day and apparently on a very bad day now too - so her reputation meant shit to him.

_Damn_.

"I can't change that fast Barton. I've been me for too long," she said slowly. He shook his head and stared at her with serious eyes.

"I'm not asking you to change. I never asked you to be anything but yourself Tasha. You don't have to change who you are - just stop fucking pushing me away _idiot_," he said heatedly. Natasha promptly banged her head against the window.

"Why the hell am I even still here? For god's sake I don't even _like_ you!" she said in frustration. Clint rolled his eyes.

"You're not sunshine and daisies either Romanoff - in fact you are cold as ice and you fight like a dirty seasoned street thug," he said with a snort. Natasha repeatedly banged her head against the window again.

"You're going to kill some brain cells you know," he said dryly. She snorted.

"Good, maybe I'll forget I ever met you," she grumbled. His eyes fell.

"Do you really wish that?" he asked softly. She froze at his tone. _Shit_. The bastard made it so fucking difficult to hate him it pissed her off all over again. She shouldn't care if he sounded like a kicked puppy. She didn't care. She didn't care. She didn't care.

She accidentally locked eyes with his crestfallen ones through the reflection in the glass. She was screwed. Damn. Damn. Damn.

"Only sometimes..." she muttered half convincingly. He suddenly grinned a bit too widely.

"I knew it!" he said with a happy laugh. She scowled at him.

"Ah fuck you Barton!" she shouted in outrage. He had played her again! _Ugh_! He rolled his eyes at her exaggerated reaction.

"Calm down Tasha it was a genuine question," he said shaking his head at her explosion. She huffed and looked away. Whatever.

They sat in a weird silence where they weren't quite comfortable with each other yet - but they weren't about to kill each other either. She was never going to understand what goes on in Barton's thick head. Sometimes she wondered how she even ended up here with him. How no matter how many times she pushed the idiot away - he never left. He was like an annoying _leech_. She used to feel like he only stuck around just to _piss_ her off another day but then he went and completely threw that accusation out the window when he stayed even when things went to shit and dragged her ass out of the fire when no one else would.

That was more than anyone else could ever claim in her entire of her life.

Things were more complicated then she thought.

"Tasha?" he asked suddenly breaking into her thoughts. She heard the odd tone in his voice and tensed.

"Don't make those eyes at me Barton," she said warningly. He gave her a blank look.

"Don't try to flip me off before I even asked my question Romanoff," he shot back. She gave him a deadly glare. He promptly puckered his lips and made a kissy face at her.

She looked utterly disgusted by him. It was times like these when she really didn't know how he managed to stay alive. But now she understood him a bit better than before. She could see him a bit clearer than before. He was Clint Barton and he was all sorts of complicated. But for now she was okay with that.

He still always manages to royally piss her off though. Flirty bastard.

"Barton you are such a _child_!" she shouted in disbelief.

"That's what you get for rebuking my good intentions," he said with devious grin.

"You have _dirty_ intentions," she growled. He shrugged.

"I didn't say they were clean - just not bad. But seriously Tasha - listen to me for a second," he said suddenly switching tones. She grew wary as she watched a familiar seriousness settle into his eyes. He really did have an insane amount of control over his moods and emotions.

"You and I both know you weren't just angry at _me_ Tasha. I couldn't have possibly been the only reason you freaked out. You were just plain _furious_. Fill with this pure and utterly consuming _rage_. It was more like you were angry at everything and everyone," he said carefully remembering the blazing look in her eyes. He glanced back at her still form. She knew what he was going to ask before he even said it.

"How many times have you ever gotten that angry?" he asked quietly. She tensed. _Shit_. She really did hate him and his stupid ability to read her too fucking well. It was dangerous - but then she paused. To hell with that. Being partners with him was like already throwing herself into the fire and asking to be burned. What the hell did she have to lose at this point anyway?

"Not many," she muttered finally. He sighed in relief. That was good. He didn't know what they would do if that was a common occurrence.

"What did you do before?" he asked curiously. She gripped her knees tighter.

"Vodka," was all she said. Clint snorted. She sent him a dirty look.

"Russian vodka warms the soul eh?" he said teasingly. She scoffed.

"_No_, Vodka bottles make very satisfying sounds when you smash them against a wall," she muttered without looking at him. Clint raised an eyebrow all the way up to his hairline. He did not see that one coming.

"You're violent Tasha," he said so blandly it sounded like he was repeating a well-known fact. She scowled at him.

"Oh thanks for letting me know genius," she said sarcastically. He grinned.

"Any time beasty," he said cheekily. She suddenly snorted. He furrowed his brow.

"What?" he asked in confusion.

"Barton...if I'm the beast...what does that make _you_?" she said with an evil smirk.

He promptly went bright red. It was a sight to see - she has never seen Barton blush even once during their entire partnership.

Blackmail.

Her smirk got a bit too evil.

"I don't like that look on your face Tasha..." he said warily.

"Deal with it," she said still smirking.

"Can I be the beast?" he pleaded.

"Not a chance you little drama queen," she said with a snort. He hung his head in defeat.

"But Tasha I don't want to be the damsel in distress!" he said desperately.

"Too late - I saved your ass already," she said with a shrug. He suddenly paused as a wicked look entered his eyes.

"Does that mean when I kiss you you'll turn into my prince charming?" he asked with another one of his annoying kissy faces.

She shot him an even more disgusted look then before.

"Alright you need to _shut up_ now Barton - this is getting disturbing," Natasha said scrunching up her face in distaste. He laughed and then they both got lost in their own thoughts for a little while.

They were nowhere _near_ okay - but they were getting better at being around each other and understanding how the other worked.

"You know it's going to be my turn to beat your ass in the bar this time right?" Clint said out of nowhere. Natasha stared at him in disbelief.

Oh _god_ he was pathetic.

"You wish Barton," she said with a snort. He gave her his infamous suggestive eyebrows. They were getting old.

"You know if you had a specific wish that I could grant I could grant in a heartbeat," he said cheekily. Natasha suddenly dropped her feet to the floor and gave him a blank stare.

"That's it – there comes a time Barton when you can no longer stand the presence of a person you see every single second of your god damn day – good bye. Have a nice life," she said as she brushed imaginary dirt off her pants and stood up.

"Where are you going?" he asked in shock.

"To the wonderfully convenient location to which where all women flee to when the idiots in their lives drive them mad," she said dryly as she walked past him.

_Cricket…cricket…_

"Huh?" he said giving her a blank look. Natasha smacked her hand against her forehead – idiot.

"The _washroom_ you idiot – you can sit here in silence and contemplate what point in your life you lost your god damn sanity while I am gone," she said as she promptly walked out of the compartment. Clint grinned.

"I regret _nothing_!" Clint called after her with a grin. Natasha gave him the finger as she rounded the corner.

"That's what _all_ failures at life say!" she shouted over her shoulder.

Clint leaned back against the seat and shook his head. Natasha Romanoff never ceased to amaze him.

However 10 minutes later he was starting to wonder why she was taking so long. He knew girls took a while in the bathroom – but Natasha? He doubted she spent more than 5 minutes near a toilet unless she absolutely had to not matter what nonsense she was sprouting a second ago. He always thought she had a vendetta against public washrooms anyway. He glanced down at his stomach when it twisted in a weird way.

"I really hate it when you do that you know," he muttered to his annoying gut. Every time it made itself known he was getting into trouble. Then again when you start blaming mostly unresponsive body parts for your shitty situations you know you're stalling.

"Well let's hope you're wrong buddy," he said to himself as he pushed off his seat and slid the compartment door open to walk into the connecting hall. He glanced down the empty space and started walking towards the washrooms. He heard a loud crash somewhere at the beginning of the train and froze.

They next thing he knew he was being slammed into the side of the train window as the entire cart shook violently. What the hell?

"HOLY SHIT!" he heard a familiar voice shout from down the hall. He bolted in that direction. His heart was racing and he didn't know if he was going to like what he would find.

"TASHA! he shouted as he ran down the hall at neck breaking speeds. The train was rocking unstably and he knew something was wrong at the conducting compartment but he really couldn't do anything about that right now until he found Tasha first. He knew it was wrong but he _had_ to get to her first. He quickly rounded the corner and located the washroom on the right side of the train and then instantly smashed into the wall once again as the train gave a harsh jolt to the left.

"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!" was heard loud and clear from the other side of the washroom door. He furrowed his brow in worry as he debated on if she would kill him if he barged in there. It was a washroom after all.

"My mommy says that's not a very good word to use!" a little voice said in response to the intense Russian swearing behind the door. He froze.

"Give me a second kid! _Really_ need you to be quiet right now!" Natasha's voice said irritably. Clint stared at the closed door in worry. What the heck?

Clint quickly stepped forward and shoved the washroom door open to reveal a shocking sight. The entire washroom was covered in wires of all different colours and sitting right smack in the middle of the tangled mess was a pretty little dark haired Spanish girl with a heavy looking backpack strapped to her chest. _Holy shit._

"What the heck is going on?" he asked in shock. Natasha shot him an angry look over her shoulder before she went right back to whatever she was doing before. What _was_ that exactly?

"OF ALL THE DAYS TO BOMB A TRAIN IT HAD TO BE _TODAY_!" Natasha shouted in disbelief as she whipped out her knife and started angrily slashing through the ropes that bound the little girl to the toilet. Natasha growled angrily. She couldn't see _anything_ with all the unnecessary wires everywhere.

"_Detonation in 90 seconds,"_ a clear come robotic voice said out of nowhere.

They all froze as they promptly glanced down and stared at the blinking red timer attached to the child's leg. She looked like she was about to cry. They both felt like crying in frustration too. Natasha suddenly jumped to her feet, grabbed Clint by his shirt and pulled him right up to her face.

"Barton – do you know how to defuse in a bomb in under a minute?" Natasha asked tensely. He stared back at her with slightly dazed eyes.

"Yes but-" he started to say however she was in no mood to hear a single word from his mouth for the next minute.

"DO IT _NOW_!" she shouted shoving him into the washroom and onto his knees in front of the terrified little girl. He was terrified himself.

Clint's hands started shaking.

"I-I-I-I-" he couldn't even speak.

The last time he had to diffuse a bomb his entire military brigade was stuck in the middle of the bloodbath that had erupted in Bosnia 5 years ago. He didn't see the second bomb until it was too late.

They all died except for him.

He couldn't see straight anymore.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Um…well…what can I say right? Other then I'll update as soon as I can? That was one way to start up the action again haha. **


	11. Chapter 11

**I dare you **

**Chapter 11**

Natasha knew something was wrong the moment Barton started hyperventilating while staring at the endangered little girl in front of him. What the fuck?

She swiftly fell to her knees besides him and grabbed him by his shoulders. She stared at him dead in the eye and he stared back at her with terrified glazed over eyes. She gritted her teeth.

He was having a very _real_ panic attack.

"Shit!" she growled as she tightened her grip on his shirt.

"I-I-I'm sorry I-" he gasped through his panicked breaths as he honestly tried to calm down but it just wasn't _happening_. Natasha took a sharp breath as she rapidly tried to fix the situation. She first needed to fix _him_.

"Barton I have an idea behind what's happening but you need to ignore it for just a few minutes alright? Or we're all going to die and it will be the end of this damn partnership you worked your ass off to make happen!" she said firmly forcing him to keep looking at her. His breathing rate only became more erratic if anything else. She growled in frustration. There was only one thing left to do.

She promptly slapped him across the face so hard his head spun - but it seemed to do the trick because he didn't quite feel like he was drowning in his own body anymore. He slammed his eyes shut and tried to block out the reoccurring explosions he heard in his mind along with all the screams he couldn't prevent. The ground was shaking and a chaotic bloody battlefield flashed across his eyes. Fuck he was losing it.

"3 minutes Barton! I _need_ you for just 3 minutes!" she said seriously gripping his shirt and realizing she was the only thing keeping him from collapsing at the moment. _Shit_. They were running out of time! He suddenly felt himself being dragged back to the present by her firm but tense voice.

He held his breath. She was lying though. Natasha Romanoff didn't need anyone - let alone _him_.

She growled at his unresponsive stare and roughly shook his body in front of her.

"Prove to me that being partners wasn't a mistake Barton! Prove to me we weren't a mistake _god damn it_!" she shouted at him.

Something in Clint's eyes suddenly refocused and he finally looked like he could actually see _her _and not the ghosts that have been haunting him for the past 5 years.

"G-Give me your knife," he whispered shakily. She shoved her knife into his hand and shoved him closer to the bomb strapped girl. The girl just watched the two unknown people trying to stop the bomb with resigned eyes. She didn't think they could do it.

"_Detonation in 60 seconds_," the robotic voice said calmly. Clint gripped the knife in his trembling hands and stared at the bundle of wires in front of him. He felt Natasha's calming presence close behind him and took a deep breath before he quickly got to work.

"Red, green, over the hatch, black is fake, blue is a dud, _fuck_ where is the orange one?" he muttered to himself as he watched his hands work in front of him at insane speeds cutting wires left and right. Natasha held her breath and steeled her gaze as she and the little girl both watched the still shaking man try to save their lives and do his job. He was dangling off the edge of true insanity but holding on by the skin of his teeth. He was holding on only because they _needed_ him to.

He really was a damn genius in his own right.

"_Detonation in 15 seconds,_" the robotic voice was back. They all tensed.

Time froze for just a moment as Clint stared at the last two wires he needed to cut with Natasha's knife suddenly weighing a million pounds in his shaking hands. One of them was going to blow them all up and the other would stop the timer. His eyes shot up to the little girl's green ones. His heart nearly stopped. Holy shit she had green eyes just like _her_.

"Do you trust me?" he whispered uncertainly to the little girl. Why should she trust him? Why would anyone trust him? Not when he couldn't even trust himself. She stared back at his haunted eyes with scared but firm ones of her own. She wasn't a normal kid by any delusion but they didn't have time analyze that right now.

"_Yes_," she said firmly. He took an unsteady breath and cut the wire.

_Beep_.

The timer started smoking and stopped at 00:00:00:00:01.

No one dared to breath for the next second. And for good reason because the next thing they knew there was explosion after explosion going off in _every_ other cart on the train. Fuck they only stopped this one. The entire train was going to burn to the ground anyway.

"Shit Barton we need to _leave_!" Natasha said shooting forward to quickly cut off the rest of the bonds holding the girl in place.

"I know! I know!" he shouted over the deafening sounds of metal exploding. He finally managed to shove the damn past to the back of his head and quickly pulled the heavy weight off the girl. He swiftly dragged her to her feet and steadied her. She was scared but calmer than they were comfortable with. Calmer then she should be right now.

"GET _OUT_!" Natasha shouted furiously as she dragged both of them out of the washroom and threw them into the hall. They all crashed into each other as the train suddenly started tipping perilous off the tracks.

"Exit! Where the hell is the _exit_?" Clint shouted irritably. Natasha pushed the girl in between them and glanced over his shoulder.

"Behind you stupid!" she shouted back over all the gunfire they could hear now on both sides of the train.

They were going to be cornered with no way out soon.

Clint suddenly spun around and quickly scanned the door for what he was looking for. His eyes caught sight of the red handle sticking out of the side of the door. _Finally_!

Clint slammed his hand down on the emergency exit leaver and they all watched the door to the outside slide open and reveal the vast darkness of the forest that stretched along the outskirts of Madrid.

They all quickly grasped onto the side of the opening as the train shook violently and the wind whipped across their faces.

"They're coming," the girl said anxiously beside them as they all heard the pounding feet rapidly approach them on all sides. They both stared at each other over her head and promptly looked out at the daunting fall.

"I can't see anything Barton!" Natasha shouted over the roaring wind. Clint clenched his jaw and instantly crouched down to his knees in front of the kid they just saved.

"So you trust me right?" Clint asked the little girl who was staring back at him with firm eyes – even though he could tell she was shaking. She was trying to be brave.

"I already said _yes_!" she said before she suddenly knocked into him as the train gave another jolt. He caught her easily and pushed her back onto her feet.

"Okay then make sure you hold on tight!" Clint said as he quickly wrapped his arms around her small body and picked her up easily. 9 year olds weren't particularly that heavy.

"Barton we don't know where we are going to land!" Natasha said as she stared at her partner with a little girl wrapped tightly around his neck. She tried not to think about what it would be like if she had red hair. _Shit_. What the fuck was _wrong_ with her?

All three of them heard the glass shatter from the door leading into the train compartment. Clint's expression tensed with resolve. There was no other option.

"Jump _anyway _Tasha!" he shouted back before he threw himself and the little girl off the train and into the darkness. Natasha clenched her jaw and immediately jumped after them. She _better_ not regret this. For a second all she could feel was the wind whipping passed her face – and then she felt the ground make direct contact with her shoulder.

Clint and Natasha gasped as they hit the ground with a thump and rolled onto their backs taking in deep gasps of air. Clint let go of the little girl in his arms as he winced from the impact of cushioning both their weight from the fall. Aw hell he was never going to fully heal his ribs was he?

For a second all they could hear was the train racing passed them as they lay several feet from the tracks. The entire train was on fire and they could see several armed masked men running through the chaos definitely looking for something – or someone.

"Hey - you alright kid?" Clint asked gruffly and still trying to catch his breath. Silence. They both whipped their heads to their side when the kid didn't respond – she wasn't conscious.

"_Shit_ - she blacked out!" he said angrily. Natasha quickly reached over to feel her pulse and they both tensed for several deafening seconds.

_Thump. Thump. Thump. _

"She's alive," she said falling back to the ground. Clint sighed in relief. They both laid on the ground for several moments just trying to get used to the fact that they were both alive and still breathing.

"Barton?" Natasha said suddenly while she was still rapidly breathing in deep breaths.

"Yeah Tasha?" he gasped glancing at his partner with the adrenaline still pumping through their veins and the rush of just defusing a freaking bomb and jumping from a burning train still in their system.

"I hate my life," she muttered. He rolled his eyes – so overdramatic.

"It's not so bad – you just saved a little girl you know? " he said while trying to catch his lost breath. It wasn't coming back any time soon.

"I think I fell on dog shit," she said darkly staring up at the sky wondering who hated her so much to put her through this much hell. He paused.

_Well_.

"Okay yeah your life sucks," he finally conceded. She snorted and slammed her head back onto the grassy ground.

_A second later. _

"I think it's on you too," she said all of a sudden. Clint froze and didn't move an inch.

"_Damn it_," Clint cursed. And here he wanted to rib her for all she was worth.

They both felt the little body between them shift and suddenly the girl bolted upright and frantically looked around. Natasha and Clint both froze and she stared at them with suspicious eyes while still breathing in panicked breaths.

"We're alive?" she asked carefully. They nodded. She sighed in relief and fell back onto the ground with a soft thump.

"That was fun," she said suddenly staring up at the sky. Natasha promptly snorted and Clint rolled his eyes.

"What's your name kid?" Natasha asked pushing herself into a sitting position and rolling her tense shoulder. The girl shifted uneasily beside them.

"Alicia Vargaras," she said quietly.

They both tensed.

"Aw _fuck_," Clint groaned as he slammed his face into the ground.

They just _had_ to find their target's daughter strapped to a bomb on a train hours before they were going to kill him didn't they?

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**A/N: Alicia is a funny 9 year old. Then again her father is an ex-SHIELD agent. Crazy right? **

**FYI: Fury told them Antonio Vargaras was their target in Spain. **

**Oh and ****just in case you were all wondering how I update so fast – I sort of already wrote a lot of these chapters. lol. Now I'm just updating daily. haha – do I update too much? Do you want longer breaks between them? I'm sorry for bombarding your email if I do! I can update less if you like. **

**Dare 10: I dare you to diffuse a bomb even if it kills you inside. Cause otherwise it's going to kill all of us.  
**


	12. Chapter 12

**I dare you **

**Chapter 12 **

Natasha stared at the child sitting on the ground beside her with a calculative look. She was her target's daughter yes - but she was also just a normal 9 year old child. As normal as you can be when your father betrayed his organization and is now working for terrorists.

"You're SHIELD agents aren't you?" she said quietly pulling her knees up her chest. They tensed - how did she know that? What had Vargaras told her about SHIELD?

"Are you going to try and kill me too?" she asked sadly. They froze - _what_?

"No - no why would we do that?" Clint asked slowly. She shrugged half-heartedly.

"My dad is screwed up," she said dejectedly.

Natasha and Clint shared a wary look.

They knew the feeling.

"We're not going to kill you Alicia. But we really need you to walk into a police station and stay there until someone picks you up," Natasha said carefully. No - she wasn't going to do anything to this child. Their mission had nothing to do with her and Natasha was going to keep it that way. They both watched Alicia bury her head in her arms.

"No one is going to pick me up – my mom is missing and my dad is in jail," she said quietly. Clint and Natasha winced. Damn. No wonder she wasn't freaking out that much because of the bomb - her life must have been severely screwed up for a while.

"We still need you to go somewhere safe," Clint said carefully.

"Nowhere in Spain is safe," she said with a sigh. Natasha tensed. There was no way she was sticking around. No fucking way.

"Being with us is not safe _either_," Natasha said firmly. The little girl suddenly looked up.

"You're the only reason I'm even _alive_," she said giving Natasha an annoyed look. Natasha tried _really_ hard not to glare at her – she wasn't going to start a fight with a kid – even if she was the daughter of her target. Her eye still twitched. Damn.

"_He's_ the reason your alive, not me," Natasha growled pointing at her peculiarly quiet partner. The little girl scoffed at her but Natasha didn't budge. She didn't _want_ the credit. Clint raised an eyebrow at the showdown between the deadly Black Widow and a 9 year old with spunk. It was the most hilarious thing he had seen in years.

"I was half way to losing my mind – I think you can safely say you're the reason we are _all_ alive Tasha," he said dryly. Natasha had no qualms with throwing deadly glares at _him_ though and so he suddenly found her full blown_ I-will-shoot-you-if-you-don't-shut-up _stare on him instead of the girl. She really didn't know how to handle kids did she?

"So your name is Tasha?" Alicia suddenly asked curiously. Natasha tensed without looking away from his calm face. He raised an eyebrow wondering what she would say.

"No," she said tensely daring him to say something she might shoot him for. He rolled his eyes - typical.

"So what is it then?" Alicia asked tilting her head to the side. Natasha clenched her fists and tried not to burn holes into the chatty kid - she was just like Barton! She froze - _holy shit. _

"None of your damn business," Natasha said curtly. The girl pouted and Clint couldn't help but smile - this was honestly one of the weirdest most interesting situations they fell into in all their missions combined.

"Hey I told you mine!" Alicia said childishly. Well...she was entitled to sound like that. Natasha scoffed.

"So what? That doesn't mean anything. I'm not telling," Natasha growled. Clint continued to watch the ping pong match go back and forth - he could do this all day. He was sure they could too.

"_Meanie_," the girl muttered into her knees Natasha huffed and looked away.

"I am not a nice person," she muttered back. The girl paused and gave her quizzing look.

"You're lying...," she said with a furrowed brow. Natasha froze - _what_?

"No I'm not," Natasha said firmly. The girl slowly shook her head.

"No you are - you have that same look on your face my dad does when he doesn't want me to know what he is doing in his office or when he is on the phone," she said quietly.

That made Natasha and Clint _both_ freeze. This was getting dangerous.

"When was the last time you saw your father Alicia...?" Clint asked slowly. She shrugged and held herself tighter.

"4 days ago?" she said quietly. The two spies shared another wary look over her head. Has she been by herself for 4 entire days? Where were the authorities?

"What was the last thing he said you exactly?" Natasha asked suddenly with an odd look on her face. She had a feeling there was something the kid wasn't telling them.

"He told me to run and never stop," she whispered shutting her eyes and pulling at her hair. Clint sighed and gave the girl a sad look.

"You don't have to keep running Alicia - the police will protect you," he said softly placing a hand on her forearm. She suddenly jumped and ripped her hand away from him. He gave her confused look as she held her hand tightly to her chest. She was suddenly breathing hectically and staring at him with clear fear in her eyes. Why was she acting so strange?

"Alicia - what's on your arm?" Natasha asked expressionlessly. Clint froze - what was Natasha seeing?

"Nothing!" Alicia said too quickly and frantically backed herself into a tree. Clint slowly raised his hands to show her he meant no harm as he slowly approached the severely frightened girl.

"We're not going to hurt you Alicia," Clint said carefully. She didn't look like she believed him anymore. Natasha stood off to the side and watched the entire situation with a calculative look. There was something seriously, seriously wrong.

"You can't have it!" she shouted in panic. Clint furrowed his brow.

"Can't have what Alicia...?" he asked slowly. He didn't like where this was going. He didn't like the huge burden she seemed like she was carrying on her shoulder.

"I don't know what it is! You just can't!" she said squeezing her eyes shut and trembling like a leaf. Clint slowly crouched down to her height and kept his hands up.

"Hey. Hey it's going to be okay - I'm not going to hurt you. You told me you trusted me remember?" he said softly. Alicia continued to shake even as she slowly opened her green eyes and fearfully looked up at his blues ones. He really had a soft spot for green eyes ever since he met _her_.

"Promise?" she whispered with so much painful hope in her eyes he think the heart he didn't know he had was going to break in half.

"I promise," he whispered back. She slowly let her arm fall down to her side and shakily lifted her sleeve to reveal a horrifying sight.

Natasha swore and angrily rubbed her forehead - this was worse than she thought.

Clint just stood there and looked like he was about to throw up.

_Holy shit_. There were nuclear launch codes tattooed to her skin.

What sick bastard would do this to his own _daughter_?

"Natasha...call Fury..." Clint said quietly as he stared at the letters and numbers written in code across her arm.

Natasha was way ahead of him and already had her phone to her ear with the line ringing.

"This is bad isn't it?" Alicia said quietly. Clint gave her a reassuring smile – nobody believed it was real for even a second.

_Beep. _

"Romanoff - I would say it's lovely to hear from you again but really if you are calling me this early in your mission something has fucked up," Fury said gruffly from the other end of the line. Natasha tightened her grip on the phone as she watched Clint continue his staring contest with their target's daughter.

"We have a situation Sir…," Natasha said in a no nonsense voice. Fury paused when he heard the tension in her tone.

"What's wrong Romanoff?" he asked steadily. Natasha sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"We have a kid we can't get rid of at the moment…," she started slowly. Fury snorted.

"Romanoff where the hell did you find a kid in prison?" Fury asked in disbelief.

"We're not in prison yet. We were on a train getting into Madrid that was rigged with several bombs strapped civilians. We only saved one of them in time," she said cautiously. Fury still didn't see what the problem was here.

"Well then why don't you just dump her sorry ass with the authorities and be done with her Romanoff?" Fury said angrily. He thought his agents were better than this. Natasha tensed.

"Her name is Alicia Vargaras," she said carefully. Fury snorted.

"That still means nothing Romanoff – she has nothing to do with her father's crimes," he said firmly. Natasha's eyes darkened.

"Wrong – she has nuclear codes tattooed to her skin Fury," Natasha said darkly.

There was silence at the other end of the line.

Followed by a lot of colourful swearing.

"You just fucking had to go and find the _only_ girl that you couldn't ditch didn't you Romanoff?" Fury said angrily rubbing the headache he could feel coming. Natasha clenched her jaw.

"What should we do?" she asked tensely. Fury sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Well it doesn't matter if the girl has the codes because her father still has them memorized. You still need to wipe his memory Romanoff. You still have a job to do. If he meets with anyone while he is in solitary confinement all our hard work will be screwed. Deal with the girl. Does anyone know what's on her arm?" Fury asked carefully. Natasha glanced over at the two bodies crouching on the ground who were watching her with matching tense expressions.

Damn they were so much alike.

"Alicia did the people who strapped you to the bomb know who you were?" Clint asked slowly turning to the girl beside him. Alicia slowly shook her head.

"No I told them my name was Reina or something – they thought they had the wrong girl so they decided to blow me up," she said shakily. Clint clenched his jaw – _bastards_.

"So they don't know what you look like?" Natasha asked carefully. Alicia shook her head.

"No," she said firmly.

"They know it's on her but they don't know her face," Natasha told Fury. She heard a long pause.

"Give the phone to Barton, Romanoff," Fury said curtly. Natasha glanced at the phone and then at her partner. She held the phone out to him.

"He wants to talk to you," she said steadily. Clint slowly rose to his feet and walked over to her. She passed him the phone as they shared an intense look. They were never prepared for something like this. They weren't meant to protect anyone but themselves. But here they were trying to keep this little girl safe. But they didn't think they would be able to do a good enough job.

They heard a terrified scream behind then and swiftly spun around with their guns raised.

They both froze as they found Alicia trapped in a death grip of a large dirty man with a knife held to her throat. Holy shit did they just never get a fucking break?

"Take a step closer and I'll kill her," he growled.

"What the hell is going on?" Fury shouted from the other end.

"I'll have to call you back Fury…" Clint said into the phone before he slowly dropped it to the ground. Natasha shifted beside him and the man noticed instantly.

"I told you not to move!" the man hissed.

Natasha narrowed her eyes at the pathetic street thug. She could shoot faster than he could pull the knife she was certain. She swiftly shot the man holding the knife to Alicia's throat without hesitation. Alicia stood frozen in place as she felt the bullet whiz past her face and heard a gasped from the man who was threatening to kill her. She felt the knife clatter to the floor and the arm holding her in place fall away as the large body dropped to the ground behind her.

Nobody said a word for several tense seconds – but Natasha knew exactly what to say – she always did.

"We're not safe people to follow Alicia. We are not heroes – we kill people. _Now_ will you leave?" Natasha said quietly. Alicia took a shaky step back and nearly fell over her small feet but felt someone steadied her from behind.

"You should go to the police Alicia," Clint said softly putting a hand on her shoulder. She tensed under his firm but gentle grip.

"But what if they send me to my relatives? People are still looking for me. That's why I was trying to leave Madrid – I was caught though," she said clenching her little fists at her sides. She was starting to seem too much like them for comfort. Then again her father was formerly a SHIELD agent – it was in her blood.

It was a miracle his insanity wasn't in her blood too.

Clint and Natasha shared an intense look over her head.

"How long do we have?" Natasha asked slowly lowering her gun.

"9 hours to land our ass in jail," he said watching her calculative look.

"Get euro currency – we're getting her on a bus," she said with finality and leaving no room for argument. Too bad he didn't give a _shit_ about how threatening she was.

_10 minutes later. _

"This is not safe Tasha," Clint said steadily from behind her as she bought 3 tickets to avoid suspicion.

"It's safer than being with _us_," Natasha shot back without looking at him.

Alicia stood off to the side watching the two strangers arguing at the ticket counter. Did they fight _all_ the time?

"At least we could protect her," he said irritably. She shot him a look of disbelief.

"And alert the entire criminal world that the Black Widow and Hawkeye have a liability tagging along on their missions? Are you _insane_?" she growled. He suddenly grabbed her wrists to spin her around and stop her from stalking away from him.

"Do you even _care_ about Alicia, Natasha?" he asked tensely. She narrowed her eyes. How _dare_ he?

"I started being an assassin when I was nine Barton – she's _not_ going to be like us," she growled before she ripped his arms off of her and spun around to walk away. Her choice to be who she wanted to be was taken away from her before she even had a chance to grow up. She would never let anyone do that to another girl if she could help it. Alicia was in a horrible situation where that might exactly be what would happen to her – especially with her dark parentage.

If Natasha had the choice to do her life over again she would _never_ want to be the Black Widow. The only thing that made her tense as she thought this was the fact that she knew she would never have met Clint Barton if that were to happen. She would never have defected from Russia and never have joined SHIELD. She wouldn't be partners with him and they would have lived their lives on opposite sides of the world never destined to cross paths. She didn't know why her chest clenched when she realized this.

_Fuck_.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: And so the suspense rises. Do you guys like Alicia? Haha do you really think she's getting on that bus? She's the daughter of a criminal genius after all. **

**Dare: No dare.  
**


	13. Chapter 13

**I dare you **

**Chapter 13 **

Clint watched Natasha angrily walk away with a fuming look on his face but froze when a thought suddenly occurred to him. Maybe there was _another_ way…

"Tasha! Tasha wait!" he shouted as he ran after her seething form.

Alicia promptly took a seat on the ground and propped her head in her hand as she watched the dark haired man run after his obvious redheaded girlfriend. Like _duh_.

"Why do couples fight so much?" she asked herself in confusion.

Clint quickly caught up to his partner and grabbed her by the shoulders. She tensed and was about to punch him for his troubles when he quickly started talking.

"We need to find a way into the prison right?" he said staring at her blazing eyes.

"So?" she said irritably.

"Alicia is a 9 year old girl currently not in school, not at home and most likely missing in the police system," he said slowly.

Natasha blinked.

She blinked again.

"You want…to be kidnappers?" she asked blankly. He shrugged.

"The police won't release her right away after acquiring her from a kidnapping – she'll be safe until Fury figures something out. Might as well get our mission done at the same time right?" he said raising an eyebrow. Natasha was so caught off guard she completely forgot to be angry.

"Barton…sometimes you really _can_ use your brain cells," she said in awe. Clint scowled at her honest surprise. Of all his brilliant plans _this_ was the one that amazed her?

"Ye of little faith Tasha," he grumbled as he turned away to glance at the little girl who was sitting on the ground several feet away from them. He waved her over and she quickly pushed herself off the ground and skipped over to them.

She _skipped_.

When was the last time he talked to a girl that _skipped_?

Damn he felt old.

"So - what's the final verdict agents?" she asked trying to sound serious but failing miserably.

Natasha promptly pointed a hidden gun to her head – just to see what she would do.

"We're kidnaping you and you are going to act bloody scared," she said firmly. Alicia raised a questioning eyebrow – the kid really needed better self-preservation skills. She was seriously too much like Barton. Oh dear _god_ that was a disturbing thought.

"But I'm not scared of you," she said in confusion. Natasha wanted the bang her head against a wall. The kid was so weird!

"I can _make_ you scared," Natasha said darkly as she shoved her gun into the little girl's chest. Alicia snorted – no one has ever snorted in the face of Natasha Romanoff's gun – she can't believe her pride was about to be run over by a _child_. This was insulting!

"Lady, you act tough and can obviously beat people twice your size to a pulp - but inside you are you _soft_," Alicia said severely unimpressed. Natasha sent Clint a desperate look. The girl just called her _soft_! Clint laughed – Natasha was never desperate.

"I can't do this – you are going to talk to her," she muttered rubbing her forehead angrily utterly confused by the girl's reaction. Clint shrugged and glanced down at their little tagalong.

"Hey kid, wanna help us out and do a little acting?" Clint asked causally. Alicia glanced up at the grinning archer and smiled back.

"Sure, why not?" she said with a shrug. Natasha's mouth hit the floor.

"Oh my god it's like _two_ of you now – this is a god damn _nightmare_!" she said in disgust. Clint snorted. She was so dramatic sometimes. Alicia glanced between them and had a question sitting on the tip of her tongue.

"_So_ …when did you guys start going out?" Alicia asked out of nowhere. Natasha and Clint both froze at her abrupt question.

"WHAT?" Natasha shrieked in outrage. Clint and Alicia rubbed their ears in unison. Man she had some insane vocal cords.

"Um – so I'm taking that as a never?" Alicia said sheepishly. Natasha was clenching her fists not knowing what to do with them because she was dealing with a kid and she didn't know how to deal with kids. Especially ones that knew just how to get under her skin.

"Oh you – you – _ugh_!" Natasha said giving up and covering her face with her hands. Alicia suddenly smiled brightly at her. He slowly raised an eyebrow as she redirected her blinding smile at him.

"So…if you don't want him can I have him?" she asked innocently giving him her _own_ version of his suggestive eyebrows. She was totally copying his moves.

_Cricket…cricket…cricket…_

"I think I'm a bit too old for you Alicia…" Clint said patting her on the head and trying to hold back his peals of laughter to save her feelings. Alicia pouted and batted her eyelashes at the mysterious agent who fell into her life.

"I'll be 2 digits like you in 5 months!" she said trying to persuade him with her brilliant math skills. Clint finally couldn't help it and let out a light laugh as he messed up her long black curls.

"Come back when you are at least 18 kid – I don't want to be a pedophile," Clint said highly amused that he was being hit on by a 9 year old. Man if only Tasha was this cute – he froze.

_Oh shit. _

"You are _worse_ than a pedophile Barton," Natasha muttered beside him. He snorted and quickly shoved his previous thoughts into a dark corner of his mind. He promised himself he wouldn't go there. He knew he was temporarily lying to himself.

"Shut up Tasha you're just jealous that the prettiest girl in the station just told me she liked me," he said arrogantly. Natasha gave him a blank look.

They both heard a loud gasp and glanced down at the pink faced girl who was currently _fanning_ herself. Clint really was going to lose it now. This kid was too much.

"You think I'm _pretty_?" Alicia said nearly fainting right then and there. Natasha snorted – oh dear god this was insane.

"Barton – calm your little admirer before she passes out," Natasha said shaking her head. _Children_. Both of them were children. Clint just grinned.

_1 hour later. _

Alicia watched with resigned eyes as chunks of her hair floated to the ground one snip at a time.

"Why do we have to cut my hair?" Alicia said sadly. Clint gave her an apologetic look from the door frame he was leaning against as she sat on the sink in front of Natasha the scissor wielding expert. Alicia sighed as Natasha basically chopped off all her pretty black curls with a pair of ugly _rusty_ scissors they had stolen from the reception counter downstairs in the shitty little motel they were currently occupying.

"Sometimes you need something different," he said trying to make her feel better. However Natasha had no problem saying the brutal truth - she had no kid filter. Or she was pretending not to.

"Or maybe sometimes you need to look drastically different to make sure you don't get recognized by the wrong people and end up _dead_," Natasha muttered darkly. Clint narrowed his eyes and promptly kicked her in the shin. She instantly pulled the scissors away from Alicia's face as she got knocked forward. She shot an annoyed look at her equally annoyed looking partner.

"Hey! I'm using scissors here! Watch where you fling those things Barton!" she said irritably. He gave her a pointed look.

"Be _nice_ Tasha," he said firmly. Natasha sighed and went right back to giving the kid a pretty darn good haircut. It didn't look like a crappy job at all. That makes him wonder how many times she has chopped off and dyed her _own_ hair over the years to avoid detection.

"Can you make my hair look like yours?" Alicia asked suddenly. Natasha blinked – she did not expect that.

"Um...I don't think that is a good idea...we're not supposed to look anything alike..." Natasha said carefully. Alicia gave her such an unimpressed look Clint had to cover his mouth to prevent himself from bursting out laughing.

"I'm _Spanish_ - I don't look anything like a Russian," Alicia said dryly.

Natasha froze in her motions.

"How do you know I'm Russian?" she said suspiciously. Alicia shrugged.

"Your voice changes and has a slight accent when you yell at _him_," she said pointing to the man watching them with amused eyes. Natasha groaned.

"Damn it I'm getting sloppy enough that a _kid_ picked that up," she grumbled as she continued her expert hair styling. It was a girly but very useful skill. Clint rolled his eyes - Alicia was definitely nothing like a normal kid.

"Nah I think you're pretty cool," Alicia said with a shrug. Natasha didn't respond but Clint could tell she felt something towards the little girl's affection because he saw her shoulder relax by just a fraction.

But in Natasha body language she might have just melted right in front of him. Alicia was pretty much slaughtering their deadly assassin reputations - Natasha was going to freak out when she realized this.

"Blonde or brunette?" Natasha muttered as she held up two bottles for Alicia to choose from. Alicia crossed her arms and stared at her options.

"Do you have red?" she asked suddenly. Natasha wanted to shoot herself. Clint laughed out loud and nearly fell flat on his face at the incredulous look on his partner's face.

"_NO!"_ she said firmly. Alicia pouted.

"But I always wanted red hair," Alicia said downheartedly. Natasha paused.

"Really?" she asked furrowing her brow. Alicia grinned at her.

"Yeah - since 2 hours ago," Alicia said happily.

Natasha's eye twitched. It twitched again. Clint knew it was time to intervene. He calmly places his hands on her shoulders and gently pulled her away from girl that was going to cause Natasha to pull her own hair out.

"Go make some calls and create a fake identity for her. Make sure when the police look her up they don't find Alicia Vargaras in the system. This way no one will be able to trace her," Clint said as he pushed her out of the washroom. Natasha narrowed her eyes as she caught the little grin at the edge of his mouth.

"Are you kicking me out because this needs to be done or are you trying to save this evil child my wrath?" Natasha muttered as she stood outside of the doorway leading into the washroom. Alicia and Clint both waved innocently at her before he slammed the door shut in her face. Natasha's eye twitched for the hundredth time today.

_Ugh_ she hated children and overgrown children all the same.

_40 minutes later._

"TA DA!" Alicia shouted as she jumped up in front of Natasha with short dark brunette hair and all. The colour change completely changed her face and made her look even younger then she actually was. She looked absolutely adorable - and freakish even more like Barton.

However Natasha didn't even blink let alone stop talking.

"If you tell _anyone_ about this job or about the girl Jones I will skin you alive," Natasha said dangerously. She continued to threaten her contact without even giving Alicia a second glance.

Alicia pouted.

"She's mean Clint," Alicia complained turning around to pout at him. Clint chuckled and messed up her new hair.

"Yeah I know - doesn't it make you want her to like you even more?" he asked playfully. He tried not to think about how he might not be completely joking.

"Definitely - it's like a challenge!" Alicia said with a devious grin. He laughed.

"My thoughts exactly," he said grinning back at her.

Natasha finally ended the call a minute later and glanced over at the SHIELD agent and daughter of another ex-SHIELD agent sitting side by side on the bed watching her with matching curious expressions. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She didn't want to ask – but she did anyway.

"Why are you two looking at me like that?" she asked reluctantly. They grinned.

"What is my new name?" Alicia asked instantly.

"Who is her guardian after her missing parents?" Clint asked at the same time. Natasha sighed – impatient people.

"Lola Martinez is your cover name and I decided to piss off Coulson and write him up as her next in kin guardian," Natasha said warily. Clint blinked - and then burst out laughing.

"Oh he is not going to like that phone call!" Clint said with a laugh. Natasha smirked.

"Bastard _never_ likes phone calls related us," she said with a snort. Clint stopped laughing and suddenly had a pensive look on his face.

"So…basically we're going to make SHIELD deal with this while we do our mission right?" he said staring at his hands. She nodded and suddenly pulled out a small spray can from her pocket – she had a theory to test before that though.

"I went and got this while you two were busy playing with your hair," Natasha said warily. Clint took a closer look and realized it was a can of alcoholic iodine. _Well shit._

"That stuff is slightly toxic Tasha," Clint said slowly. She shook her head.

"Only if you drink it – however it is a really good staining agent. It's not tattoo ink permanent – but it will take several weeks to remove. We don't have time to really deal with the codes right now," Natasha said seriously. They both heard Alicia inhale a deep breath.

"If you spray that on me you won't be able to read these codes anymore right?" she asked slowly. Natasha nodded slowly and waited. She watched several different emotions cross the girl's face before she saw her make something that looked like a _very_ important decision.

"Okay," she said suddenly. Natasha gave her a cautious look. She knew something was up with her the whole time but now things seemed to have changed.

"What do you mean by okay Alicia?" Natasha asked slowly. Alicia shook her head a smiled at her softly.

"I like you guys – I like you guys a _lot._ So okay," she said holding out her arm. Clint furrowed his brow at her odd choice of words and suddenly he froze. _Oh god no._

"Alicia...?" he asked closing his eyes. She watched him take a deep breath.

"Yeah Clint?" she whispered.

"Have you been lying to us?" he asked quietly. Her eyes fell.

"Maybe a little," she whispered even softer. Natasha and Clint both winced. They were played by a little girl. Damn.

"What is your dad _really_ doing?" he asked as he opened his eyes and watched the little girl stare at her hands like she finally didn't know what she was doing anymore. She was way too calm up until now. He knew it was too good to be true. The one kid they wanted to protect was on the other side – or at least she used to be.

"I don't really know. I'm just the backup plan. I was just supposed to stay alive. Nothing I told you was really a lie. He really told me to just keep running. I didn't plan the train explosion or meeting you guys. That just happened," she said quietly. Natasha sighed and sat down beside the two of them. Clint dragged his hands over his face – he was exhausted by all this espionage crap. When little girls start being made into weapons even _worse_ than assassins he was done fighting. He can't fight something like this. Now they had a lot of things to figure out before they could go through with any plans to take Vargaras out.

"You know how you said you didn't want me to be like you guys Natasha? I sort of already am," Alicia said with a soft laugh. Natasha didn't know if she wanted to be proud of herself for seeing this coming or not. It was just too sad.

"Are we on the same side Alicia?" Natasha asked staring at the spray can that was sitting innocently in her hand. Alicia gave her a sad look.

"How can you be on a side when eventually both sides will want you dead?" she said quietly. Natasha shook her head.

"SHIELD won't kill you because of the codes Alicia – we'll make sure they don't," Natasha promised. Alicia sat on her knees and stared at the redhead dead in the eye. Natasha calmly stared back. She could see a million thoughts flying through Alicia's green eyes that looked just like hers. Kid will probably even be a _better_ spy then her.

Because Alicia Vargaras was a god damn child genius. Natasha knew that from the moment she laid eyes on her.

"I already permanently changed the real codes myself you know that right?" Alicia said when she seemed to finally accept that Natasha was telling the truth. Natasha nodded – they were finally on the same page.

"I know – I noticed the double layer of ink when I was cutting your hair," Natasha said truthfully. Alicia didn't look surprised. She had wanted them to see it.

The only one who was apparently surprised by _anything_ was the man staring at them with his _god damn_ mouth on the floor. _What the heck just happened?_

"Am I the _only_ one who was completely clueless here?" Clint asked falling onto the bed and suffocating himself against a pillow. Why do all the girls he is ever dawn to always end up being on the wrong side? Natasha and Alicia both snorted.

"Don't feel too bad Barton. Apparently you make a lot of girls want to switch sides," Natasha said dryly. Clint suddenly stopped his self-pity wallowing and shot up.

"You serious?" he asked in shock. Alicia and Natasha both gave his excited expression a wary look.

"Did he make you cave with his annoying kindness too?" Alicia asked Natasha as she glanced at her. Natasha looked away.

"Maybe," she grumbled. Alicia smiled softly but then suddenly looked very lost.

"Are…are you guys mad at me?" she asked softly. Clint sighed and shook his head.

"No Alicia, we're not mad – none of this is your fault," he said pulling her towards him and into his arms. She sighed in relief as she hugged him back.

"I wish you guys were my real parents," she said quietly.

Natasha and Clint both froze.

They were in _so_ much shit.

**A/N: Ha ha Natasha was _always_ very sharp. She knew something up and so did some of you! Good job! But Alicia is not bad! She is actually very, very smart with just a very, very, bad environment. She's choosing Clint and Natasha in the end though. I hope you guys still like her! She is still an interesting villain accomplice turned good guy. But they really do need to go stop her dad from blowing up the country now. **

**lalalalala suspense :D  
**

**Review and let me know if you need any clarification of what just happened between the 3 of them. Sorry if it just got a bit complicated. **

**Dare 11: I dare you to let down your guard and love someone more then yourself.  
**


	14. Chapter 14

**I dare you **

**A/N: So I realized I didn't put any ages or dates down for this story. Might be nice to do that now. They are all closer in age then you think. **

**Natasha: 21 **

**Clint: 24**

**Alicia: 9 **

**Timeline: 9 years before the avengers (so around 2003 ish)**

**Chapter 14**

Clint, Natasha and Alicia were literally playing poker with a pack of cards they bought from the drug store down the street when Clint's phone starting ringing beside him. He carelessly picked it up and flipped it open to hold it to his ear – his mistake.

"CLINT BARTON YOU GOD DAMN BASTARD WHY DO I SUDDENLY HAVE A MISSING ADOPTED CHILD NAMED LOLA MARTINEZ UNDER MY NAME LIVING IN SPAIN?" was the first thing Clint heard when he answered the phone. He winced and held the phone away from his ear. Wow –it only took Coulson 30 minutes to figure it out. He was fast.

"Ah – where are you Coulson buddy?" Clint said warily. Coulson was practically breathing fire at the other end of the line.

"WHERE AM I? I AM IN DAMN SPAIN TOO BECAUSE OF THE VARGARAS CRAP! WHY ARE YOU NOT IN _JAIL_?" he growled. Clint blinked.

"Didn't Fury tell you about Vargaras' daughter?" he asked in confusion. Coulson took a deep breath and sounded like he was going to go on another rant but then paused. His face suddenly turned grave.

"Yes he did – along with the nuclear code tattoos. I'm here to monitor our operations but I'll pick her up too if I have to," Coulson said with sigh as he pinching the bridge of his nose. The things he had to do as a handler. Clint coughed into his hand.

"Well…we kind of need you to do it in a roundabout way…" Clint said warily glancing at the two girls in front of him. They stared back at him with raised eyebrows. He scowled at Natasha specifically – he was getting blamed for _her_ prank.

Then again who would believe that the Black Widow had it in her to pull a prank? No wonder Coulson thought this was his doing.

"I really don't want to ask – but is Lola Martinez the same person as Alicia Vargaras?" Coulson said reluctantly. Clint grinned sheepishly.

"Maybe," he said noncommittally. Coulson sighed.

"And since you two are not in jail yet should I assume that you plan to use her as your ticket into the criminal nuthouse?" Coulson said with even more reluctance. Natasha rolled her eyes.

"He is just stalling that bastard," she muttered. Alicia glanced down at her cards as Natasha and Clint were busy and quickly tried to take a peek at their hands. She should have known better than to try and cheat with two master assassins – even when they were on the phone.

Natasha promptly smacked her over the head with her cards for her attempt to cheat. Alicia pouted as she rubbed her head.

"Meanie," she grumbled. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Cheater," she shot back curtly. Alicia huffed.

"Ice queen," Alicia said sticking her nose in the air. Natasha scoffed.

"_Drama_ queen," Natasha said in disgust.

"Fire breathing dragon!" Alicia hissed.

"Subatomic shrimp!" Natasha growled.

"What the hell is going on over there Barton?" Coulson asked in confusion. Clint was laughing too hard until tears came to his eyes to respond right away.

"It's madness Coulson! Come save us!" Clint gasped through his bouts of laughter. Coulson sighed and slammed his head against something that sounded suspiciously like a steering wheel.

"What do you want me to do when I get there?" he asked in defeat. Clint wiped the tears from his eyes and suddenly sobered up. Natasha and Alicia were still glaring daggers at each other but stopped firing angry insults when they saw his serious face.

"We're going to stage a kidnapping – specifically of Alicia Vargaras – this way we get carted off to jail and then before the police whisk her away – you do your shadow thing Coulson," he said calmly.

"What shadow thing?" Coulson asked in confusion.

"Clean up the mess we leave behind with skill and frightening efficiency," Clint said with a shrug.

_cricket…cricket…cricket…_

"I AM NOT YOUR NANNY BARTON!" Coulson shouted. Clint smirked.

"Hey. You scold, you clean, you fix us up, you dish out the punishment, you breathe down our necks until we do our damn paperwork – you're pretty much our nanny," Clint said dryly. He heard Coulson bang his head against a metal surface.

"I'll be there in 10 minutes," he groaned in defeat. Clint laughed.

"See you soon Coulson," he said before he hung up.

"So who _is_ Coulson?" Alicia asked curiously. Clint and Natasha shared a long look. Who is Phil Coulson?

"Ah…he is like…a _babysitter_," Clint ended with nothing better coming to mind. Natasha snorted.

"Wonderfully eloquent words Barton – couldn't have done it better myself," she said sarcastically. Clint stuck his tongue out at her. Alicia rolled her eyes.

"I think he is the real kid here," she said cheekily. For once Natasha was okay with agreeing with a 9 year old.

Alicia suddenly glanced down at her hand and smirked evilly. She smacked 4 aces down on the bed and cheered.

"I win!" she laughed falling onto her back and causing her new brown hair to fly everywhere. Clint and Natasha blinked at her perfect hand. That was impossible. Clint glanced down at the second pack of cards sitting innocently behind the sly 9 year old. Both assassins narrowed their eyes.

"ALICIA VARGARAS YOU CHEATER!" they shouted in unison. Alicia grinned up at them as she placed her hands behind her head.

"You guys are supposed to be the ultimate cheaters – can't blame a kid for wanted to even the playing field," she said with a shrug. Natasha threw her cards into the pile in the center of the bed and angrily rubbed her forehead.

"That's it – game over. We have work to do anyway," Natasha muttered as she got off the bed. Alicia's eyes fell.

"That's true. Coulson will be here soon – we should get the police all hot and bothered before he gets here and is waiting for too long," Clint said with a sigh. Alicia looked absolutely crestfallen. She didn't want them to go. She was finally having some fun after months of running around trying to make sure whatever her dad was doing wouldn't end up killing her or her mom.

She froze.

_Mom_.

Her mom was still missing.

Alicia quickly dragged her arm over her moist eyes. There was dust in her eyes. Stupid dust. Clint froze as he watched her fight back a sudden rush of tears.

"Hey. Hey why are you crying?" he asked softly. Alicia suddenly shot him angry look.

"I'm not _crying_! This is just a very dusty unhygienic hotel room," she said while trying to prevent them from seeing her runny nose. Natasha raised an eyebrow at her pathetic attempts.

They were hopeless of course.

"You've got to lie better than that if you want us to believe you Alicia," Natasha said quietly from beside her.

"I'm not lying!" Alicia shouted before she promptly shoved her head under a pillow and refused to look at them. Clint and Natasha shared a wary look.

"Acting like an ostrich is not going to stop us from asking why you're upset Alicia," Clint said quietly as he gently rubbed her back soothingly. Alicia tried to shove his annoying hand off of her but she couldn't see with her head still stuck under the pillow. Also, it felt too nice and comforting so she wasn't trying that hard anyway.

Natasha slowly took a seat back on the bed beside the quiet girl and simply watched her breath in deep shaky breaths trying to hold back obvious sobs. She was only 9 years old at the end of the day. Sometimes they forget.

"You said your mom was missing earlier right?" Natasha said quietly. Clint felt Alicia freeze under his hand. Natasha was way too sharp. Alicia suddenly collapsed and simply lied on the bed without moving.

"Yeah," she said softly still hidden from view.

"Do you know what happened to her?" Natasha asked carefully. Alicia tensed.

"She went on a business trip to America for her company – and never came back," Alicia said quietly. Clint took a deep breath – he was no stranger to family leaving and never coming back.

"Sometimes they realize their mistakes and come back Alicia. Sometimes you just need to give them some time. But for now let's work on getting out of this mess first," Clint said quietly. Natasha suddenly shot him a wary look. That was a conversation for another day.

"Speaking of which - how are we going to you know - get _caught_?" Natasha said slowly. Clint grinned as he shuffled over beside Alicia and picked up the cheap ass hotel wall phone.

"Easy - I'm going to call 112 as a concerned hotel customer that has been hearing worrying noises from the room next door, throw in a well-timed scream and the police will be racing to come arrest our ass," he said simply. Natasha raised an eyebrow.

"Not bad," she said simply. Not bad at all. She was _mildly_ impressed. Clint smiled brightly.

Alicia slowly pulled her head out from under the pillow she was hiding beneath as she watched the conversation fly back and forth between the two master assassins disguised as her fake kidnappers. She wasn't stupid – she knew they were trying not to crowd her – but she kind of liked that they were trying at all. It didn't hurt that she found their conversations very amusing. Natasha suddenly snorted and lost her impressed face.

"Ah I see you're not as stupid as other Americans who think the emergency number in Europe is 911," she said dryly ruining Clint's brilliant moment. Clint scowled at her.

"Natasha half my missions occur in Europe," he said painstakingly trying not to wince. She really had such a low opinion of him. That or she really likes to press his buttons. It might be both.

"I've met some very _stupid_ American assassins," she said frankly. He raised an eyebrow.

"Did you take them out?" he asked dryly.

"In under a minute," she said with a shrug. He sighed.

"Glad to know my worth as a partner has gone up because apparently I have common sense," Clint muttered as he glanced down at the kid quietly watching him with amusement in her eyes. She must find them hilarious.

"Ready for that acting?" he asked her with a weak smile. She nodded.

"Sure - want to gag me for a better effect?" she proposed without even looking bothered by what she was suggesting. Natasha and Clint froze - that was slightly disturbing - especially when she was right. Damn she was way too good at this lying business. It worried them slightly.

Clint fell onto the bed with a groan as he threw a pillow over _his_ face. Sometimes these crazy missions messed with his head too much.

"Get a towel Romanoff," he mumbled through the pillow. Natasha sighed and walked into the washroom to do just that. Alicia was making this way too easy for them. She should have already ran for the hills - but she was so damn stubborn and for some crazy reason she actually seemed to like them. Natasha has never met a kid who genuinely liked her in her entire life.

She walked back into and took a seat on the bed behind the newly brunette girl. She gently wrapped the towel over Alicia's mouth and held in place firmly but without actually harming her.

"You alright kid?" Natasha asked quietly. Alicia nodded with the cloth still over her mouth.

"Le-et's ge-t th-is par-ty star-ted!" Alicia declared even while half her words were lost through the makeshift gag. Natasha sighed and poked Clint from his little hermit moment.

"We're ready Clint," she said tiredly. Clint took a deep breath and shot up into a sitting position. He dragged his hands over his face and gave the two waiting girls a firm nod.

"Okay - let's do this right," he said steeling his nerves and readying himself for some intense lying his ass off he was about to do. He picked up the receiver and dialed the 3 digit number. They all held their breath as they waited for the ruse to begin.

_Beep. _

"Hello? Oh _god_ is this the police? I think there is something seriously wrong going on in the hotel room beside me!" Clint said in an extremely panicked tone. He listened to the response for 3 seconds before he instantly cut them off.

"No are you stupid? I don't know exactly what's going on but I heard screaming a second ago and earlier today I saw a man and a woman carry an unconscious little girl into their room!" he said in one terrified run on sentence. Natasha and Alicia watched him freak out over the phone with impressed expressions. He was _good_. He suddenly kicked the chair in front of him over so that it made a loud sound as it crashed into the floor.

"_Shit_! I think I can hear something! What the hell is going on?" Clint shouted in horror as he quickly glanced at Alicia and mouthed at her to _start screaming._

Alicia shut her eyes tightly and thought about the big masked men who had strapped her to the bomb on the train a few hours ago and easily screamed with all she was worth. 5 seconds later she was still screaming. Natasha glanced down at the still screaming girl and placed a calming hand in her back to tell her to stop. Alicia finally ran out of breath and collapsed against the stiff Russian. Natasha caught her easily and removed the towel from her mouth to allow her to breathe more easily.

Clint gasped audibly right after the scream ended.

"_Holy_ _crap_! Did you hear that? I knew there was something going on in there! I-I don't what to do! What if they are hurting her? Should I go in there?" Clint said in panic as he brushed his hand through his hair for the full effect. He promptly hit the speaker button so that could all hear the response.

"No! No sir, do not try to diffuse the situation by yourself. This sounds like an extremely dangerous situation for everyone involved including the child. The police will be on this case immediately," the emergency response personnel said calmly but with an edge in his voice. Everyone lost their cool slightly when kids were involved. That was the point of having emotions and being normal. Too bad not a single person in this room was anywhere near normal.

"Please tell me they'll come right away! I don't know how long that girl has been in there!" he said pleadingly. Natasha felt that odd wariness again as he proved once again how good his acting really was. Next time she was going to make him the bait and watch his true skills in action.

"I promise they will be there in less than 5 minutes. Please stay calm and let them do their job - alright sir?" the responder said slowly. Clint sighed in relief.

"Okay! Okay! Are they going to surround the building?" Clint asked slightly sounding out of breath with all the panicking he was doing for the show.

"Exactly - they will force them out of the building. Don't worry the child will be safe once the police get there," the responder said firmly. Clint's eyes hardened all of a sudden.

"Thank you - I _know_ she will be safe," Clint said suspiciously sounding like he wasn't acting anymore. He promptly hung up and glanced at the two girls watching him silently as he breathed in deep calming breaths. They were going to go into action in 10 minutes. He didn't let any of them drown in their dark thoughts though.

"And _that_ ladies is how you stage a fake kidnapping," Clint said dramatically breaking the mounting tension. Alicia and Natasha rolled their eyes. He had too much fun being the only guy around. He suddenly fell to his knees in front of the Alicia and grasped her firmly by her shoulders. There were still a few things she needed to know.

"Don't show anyone the tattoos on your arms and don't tell anyone except a man named Coulson who you really are okay? People are willing to die for the information written on your arm Alicia. They're willing to kill you too," he said softly. Alicia looked away.

"I know," she said quietly. He gave her a reassuring smile.

"But you're going to be safe soon. Coulson will get here any minute now – hopefully before the police. We're going to walk out that door and go to jail while you go with the police okay? Coulson will figure out a way to get you out before anything happens to you. We're going to do this just like we planned okay?" Clint said carefully. Alicia suddenly looked worried.

"But I don't _want_ you to go to jail," she said suddenly crashing into him and nearly knocking them both to the ground. She held onto him with a bone crushing grip. Clint smiled sadly and patted her on the back. Natasha sighed as she watched them have their moment.

"We have a job to do Alicia," he said quietly. She stilled in his arms but didn't pull away. He could feel her thinking against his chest. She had a brilliant mind.

"You have to kill my dad," she said sadly. He froze. He didn't know what to say to that. She was too smart not to have known why they were here.

"It's okay – I know he is bad," she whispered pulling back and staring at his conflicted eyes.

"Promise you'll come back?" she whispered. Clint winced. He couldn't make that type of promise.

"Maybe someday," he said noncommittally. Alicia's eyes fell.

"You're not allowed to are you?" she said quietly. Clint blinked – she really was a sharp girl. He sighed and finally decided just to return her bone crushing hug.

"Trust me Alicia – you won't want to see us after all of this is over," he said quietly into her soft hair.

"You're wrong of course but whatever," she sighed into his shirt. She held him for a bit longer before she finally pulled away. He watched her turn around and intimidatingly stared down his Russian partner with all her 3 feet of spunk. It was still hilarious to watch.

Alicia and Natasha both stared at each other intensely for several minutes.

"Romanoff," Alicia said with a curt nod. Natasha nodded back.

"Vargaras," Natasha said with equal formality. Clint rolled his eyes at their absolutely ridiculous relationship.

"Keep him warm for me while I grow up a bit and come back to sweep him off his feet in a few years okay?" Alicia said very seriously. Clint raised an eyebrow. What was he – a prized poodle or something?

"Sure thing kid," Natasha said with a snort. Alicia smiled smugly and then spread out her arms in an open expression of trust. They wished they could trust as easily as she could.

"Alright – blindfold me," Alicia said closing her eyes and holding her head up in bravery. Clint smiled at the amazing little girl they had been fortunate enough to meet in the last 3 hours. He took a tie off the dressing table and slowly wrapped it around her head and tied it firmly behind her. He stepped back and admired his handy work – damn he was a good kidnapper.

Alicia was about to asked them why they were so quiet when she froze as she felt a very different hand pat her on the head hesitantly.

"You're…a good kid," Natasha's voice floated into her little ears. Alicia grinned and was literally about to explode with happiness. _But_ _damn she was a weird kid too_ Natasha added in her head.

"You're a wicked assassin!" she said back excitedly. Natasha promptly snorted. Oh dear god she had a fan.

They all heard sirens in the distance and suddenly lights were flashing through their window from the outside. It was show time.

"Ready to get arrested Tasha?" Clint said to his deadly partner who wore a blank look on her face - all traces of affection gone.

"My day is never complete without a few Spanish police officers pissing their pants trying to scold me and simultaneously hit on me at the same time," Natasha said in the driest tone he ever heard. Clint rolled his eyes. He expected nothing less.

"Alright let's go," Clint said opening the hotel door and taking a deep breath.

"Um…guys I kind of can't see…" Alicia said knocking into his side and grabbing onto his leg. Clint chuckled nervously and gently led her out the door. This was one of the most bizarre ploys he had ever orchestrated in his _life_.

A minute later they all stood in front of the back door of the shabby hotel waiting for the police to make the first flashy move like they usually do. They weren't disappointed.

"UNKNOWN CRIMINALS! WE HAVE THE COMPLEX SURROUNDED! IF YOU DO NOT COME OUTSIDE AND RELEASE YOUR HOSTAGE IN 1 MINUTE WE WILL SHOOT ON SIGHT! I REPEAT IF YOU DO NOT COME OUTSIDE WE WILL SHOOT YOU ON SIGHT!" an angry voice shouted from the other side of the back door. Game time.

Natasha and Clint stood side by side and glanced down at the guns in their hands. They promptly threw them over their shoulders at the same time and steeled their nerves for what they were about to do.

Alicia felt a familiar warm breath beside her ear and knew who it before he even spoke.

"Bye Alicia," Clint whispered in her ear before he gently shoved her forward and out into the flashing chaotic scene in front of the building. They were blinded by all the bright lights instantly.

"NOBODY MOVE! YOU TWO ARE UNDER ARREST FOR KIDNAPPING, TRESPASSING AND VIOLATING COUNTLESS OTHER STATE LAWS IN OUR COUNTRY!" an angry police officer said through a megaphone from behind 20 police cars scattered around the street. _Okay then…this is a bit more than just a few officers_ Natasha thought silently. She had a feeling the government was looking for a kidnapped little girl – with interesting tattoos on her arms. She quickly scanned the police officers scattered around the street and noticed one of them didn't quite look right with his cap lowered over his eyes. He suddenly looked up and locked eyes with her.

You can say a lot of things about Phil Coulson – but he was good at his job. Coulson was a damn lifesaver.

However before the two cornered agents could even say a word an entire SWAT team had them surrounded within seconds. One of the armed masked soldiers quickly stepped forward and pulled Alicia away from them and pushed her behind their lines. Clint sighed in relief on the inside. She was going to be relatively safe now. Alicia quickly pulled the blindfold off her face and stared back at them worriedly through the gag between the SWAT team's legs but they didn't look at her. Clint and Natasha slowly raise their hands into the air as they suddenly had a more than a hundred guns and tasers aimed at their chests. They heard a helicopter circling the area above them and knew they probably had a motherfucking missile aimed at their heads too. They both glanced at each other through the corner of their eyes and shared a hidden amused look.

_The suckers played right into their hands. _

"You know you guys are really are quite tense – couldn't we all just take a chill pill and rela-" he started to say but his words were instantly cut off by a resounding BANG!

He promptly got shot with a tranquilizing dart and collapsed to the floor as he instantly blacked out. Natasha stared at her fallen partner with a dry look on her face and glanced back up at the unamused SWAT team. They dared her to say something with their blank stares – she couldn't help but put them on edge just a little.

"I always told him he talked too much anyway," Natasha said with a shrug. She heard the resounding _click_ of 20 tranquilizers. She clenched her jaw and steeled herself for the incoming shot.

BANG!

She fell to her knees and gritted her teeth as the sedative started to take effect as it entered her system through her shoulder. She only lost vision in her left eye for the first few seconds. She smiled ruefully at the worried little girl who suddenly had a familiar looking police officer crouch down behind her and whisper something in her ear. She was a tough kid – she'll be alright. Natasha inhaled sharply as she started rapidly losing feeling in her left side. She was better at fighting off drugs then Barton was. She had more experience with them than he did.

"_Go…fuck rabid squirrels,"_ she managed to spit at the damn emotionless SWAT team before she finally blacked out as well.

Ah prison was going to be fun – the inmates wouldn't know what hit them.

Literally. She would beat then with a stick if they tired anything with her while she was unconscious.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Man that was adorable and intense and sort of heartbreaking! How the heck does that work? lol That is my last daily update. I need to write the rest of the story now. So I see a lot of you like Alicia…how much do you guys actually want her to continue to be in the story? Choices, choices. I could do either one. She could be only related to this mission or she could be a reoccurring character. **

**Review and let me know which option you would like! **

**Dare: no dare.  
**


	15. Chapter 15

**I dare you **

**A/N: I actually wrote this chapter today. One word. Angst. **

**Chapter 15 **

After being unceremoniously knocked out cold the next thing Clint knew he was groggily waking up to the annoying sound of a siren and cold metal wrapped around his hands. He squinted as he looked down at his wrists and found them bound together by standard police cuffs. Well this would kind of suck if he didn't actually want to be here. He slowly started to focus in on his surroundings and realized he was sitting in a cop car. Joy.

"Congratulations Barton - you're awake and now a dirty foreign kidnapper getting carted off to jail," Natasha grumbled from beside him. She was also cuffed and sprouting a frown on her face. He blinked as he took in her ruffled condition and realized something.

"Hey – how did you get a black eye?" he asked in confusion. Natasha's face tightened – she did not look like she wanted to share that story.

"You're fucking partner is a _beast_ Barton," the police officer in front of them said angrily. Clint froze – they knew his _name_? His real name? What the heck? Clint quickly glanced at officer's face through the little rear view mirror and nearly fell flat on his face.

"Agent Romero? What the hell are you doing here?" he asked in utter disbelief. The Spanish agent shrugged as he continued driving the cop car.

"Back up," he said simply. Clint felt Natasha tense beside him.

"I told you we don't _need_ backup," Natasha hissed suddenly. Romero gave her a warning look through the mirror. Ah – so _that_ was how she got a black eye. He wondered what she did to him since he couldn't see any visible marks on the agent's face.

"That's not what boss said," he said carefully. Clint felt Natasha growl and shake in rage. She was already riled up for a while apparently. He must have been out longer then he thought.

"Fury can go _fuck_ himself," she said dangerously. Romero narrowed his eyes through the rear view mirror.

"You two took a reckless 4 hour break in your mission to go _frolicking_ across Madrid with the target's daughter while there is an impending nuclear disaster hanging over our heads," he said slowly with the disapproval clear in his eyes. They both tensed next to each other.

"Don't think that Fury tells you everything Romero. There was a _reason_ we couldn't leave the kid," Clint said threateningly. Romero was a seasoned agent and was not intimated in the least. His eyes steeled as they connected with agent Barton's cold blue ones. Oh he knew the reason alright.

"She is dangerous," he said decisively. That had Natasha and Clint instantly on high alert.

"She is a _child_," Natasha growled. Romero didn't even blink let alone react.

"She is a _weapon_," he said guardedly. Natasha clenched her jaw as Clint nearly broke his cuffs in his overwhelming urge to smash his fist into Romero's face.

"_Fucking hell_ do you not see what we are trying to say? She is _not_ going to give the fucking terrorists the codes!" Clint shouted in rage. Romero's face tightened as he stared at the road and all the other cop cars surrounding them.

"She is a liability Agent Barton," Romero said without budging an inch.

"For _who_?" Clint shouted in disbelief.

"For _you_!" he growled firmly gripping the steering wheel in his hands. Natasha and Clint froze.

_Oh shit. _

"We are _not_ compromised," Natasha said darkly. She could still kick his ass while handcuffed to the back on this cop car. Romero didn't look like he was stupid – he knew that too. That was why he hadn't taken his guard down since the moment the volatile Russian had woken up from her sedative induced coma. Romero gave her a firm look.

"Prove it – you are not allowed to see that child ever again," he said decisively. Clint and Natasha's felt their blood run cold at the exact same moment. How _dare_ he?

"You can't tell us what to do Romero," Clint said warningly. Romero raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"No? Watch me give you the facts then. She is going into surgery in 3 days to remove the tattoos from her skin. SHIELD is currently discussing on whether they should wipe her memory – so she may not even remember you two when everything is over. Eventually she is going to be relocated and you will never be able to find her. Her mother was found dead in a hospital in Iowa 2 hours ago. Her father is going to die or rot away in this prison for the rest of his life when you finally get your heads out of your ass and do your god damn _job_!" Romero shouted finally losing his cool exterior. Natasha suddenly laughed darkly and shook her head.

"If you think Alicia Vargaras won't know what SHIELD is planning you have another thing coming. She's managed to avoid detection or draw attention to herself for the entire time her father was scheming his insane plans. The only reason you even have her in custody right now is because we told her to be there. The second you try to corner her she'll disappear," Natasha said giving him a dangerous look. Romero clenched his jaw.

"It's not hard to find a 9 year old roaming the world by herself," he said through gritted teeth. Clint narrowed his eyes and stared at Romero dead in eye.

"It is when she'll have two assassins watching her back who will shoot anyone who tries to follow her," Clint said with deadly promise. Romero sent him a steady look.

"You walk on dangerous ground Barton," he said carefully. Clint clenched his fists in front of him.

"We are dangerous people," Clint said with the threat clear in his tone. Romero suddenly looked away from Clint's intense gaze and up at the prison gates they were rapidly approaching. He had one thing left to say.

"Do you want her to be surrounded by danger for the rest of her life?" he asked quietly.

He finally got dead silence.

_Now_ they were getting somewhere.

"You think you're good for her but you're _not_. You two are the _last_ thing a troubled child needs. In fact – I think you need her more then she needs you," Romero said carefully keeping his eyes on the road. He heard something suddenly _slam_ against the metal door and noticed the indent the impact left behind. _Damn,_ Romanoff really did have a mean swing. But they were no longer speaking. He had finally silenced them.

Because he was right.

"Be careful what you choose to do when you get out of prison. Your actions may not only just ruin your _own_ lives anymore," Romero said as he stopped the car in front of the tall foreboding building. All he heard was tense breathing for several seconds.

"You are a downright _bastard_ Romero," Clint growled and he dropped his head into his hands and angrily pulled at his hair. Romero sighed as he turned the engine off.

"I know – it's my job to be a bastard," he said quietly. The 3 agents sat in silence for a long moment before the doors beside the currently criminalized SHIELD agents ripped open and they got hauled out of the car and dragged into the building. Romero sighed and leaned his forehead again the steering wheel.

He thinks he just broke two agents irreparably – but what was he supposed to do?

Meanwhile Natasha and Clint were roughly being dragged down a hall and memorizing the exact layout as they went. They _knew_ they had a job to do – they knew _exactly_ who they were. But sometimes life likes to throw you curve balls. Sometimes life gives you a taste of everything you can't have and then viciously rips it away from you.

The guard dragging their sorry ass roughly shoved them through a door and down a hall lined with cells. He had no sympathy for criminals – not after so many years working in his job.

"Kill anyone and you'll have your ass in solitary confinement so fast your head will spin - _understood_?" the gruff prison guard said giving both new prisoners a deadly look. Natasha was already seething from the conversation in the car and no longer gave a shit about how much she pissed these idiots off.

She promptly spat in his face.

"You talk big but your dick is small," she growled threateningly at him. Clint snorted from beside her - he couldn't help it. He didn't deal with his shit the same way she did. He usually laughed off shit like this – but sometimes you just don't have it in your to honestly laugh. He would try anyway.

"That is not exactly the right English phrase - but she will makes good on her threats so you better watch what your mother gave you," Clint said dryly giving the guard's pants a pointed look. The guard turned an angry shade of red and sputtered unintelligibly in front of them for several moments. Natasha yawned - she _yawned_. The guard roughly slammed her face into the wall beside them and caused her to inhale sharply. Clint had to force himself to look away – otherwise he was going to honestly _strangle_ the damn bastard and ruin the entire mission.

"You will _not_ disrespect me you damn criminals," the guard growled at her. Natasha took a deep ragged breath with the anger still burning in her eyes as she stared at the wall in front of her. _They need this mission. They need this mission. They need to prove they are not compromised._

"Are we going to stand here all day or are you actually going to open our cell before we all die from old age?" Natasha asked through gritted teeth. The guard finally managed to get his act together and stopped shoving her against the wall. He ripped open the cell door, shoved them both roughly into the tiny room and slammed the door behind them.

Natasha turned around and raised an eyebrow at the flustered and angry guard through the tiny opening. She gave him a flirtatious smile with a dark edge to it - the masks were on but the darkness could not be concealed.

"You think you know everyone who walks down these halls are scum of the earth – but really you know _nothing_ at all," she said ominously as she stared at the guard with hidden fury swirling in her eyes. The guard looked like he wanted to shoot her right then and there.

"I know enough to not give a _shit_. You are deadly and do terrible things with your apparent beauty. Your arrogance tells me you will continue your crimes no matter where you go. I've been a guard for a long time and let me tell you - I can _smell_ the dripping blood on your hands you _disgusting_ _mujer_," he spat through the little window. Natasha didn't even flinch – even if half the things he said were true.

"And so you prove you really _do_ know nothing at all," she said simply before she looked away. She felt Clint shaking behind her in silent barely restrained rage and quickly stepped on his foot before he broke down the door and pounded the ignorant bastard to death. She knew he would do it if she let him. _Idiot_.

"Burn in hell," the guard growled as he gave her one last seething glare before he slammed the opening shut and stalked away. He really hated foreign prisoners and their cryptic way of speech.

They were now finally left alone in silence.

She instantly felt Clint spin her around and pull her into a bone crushing embrace that nearly knocked the air right out of her lungs. She didn't move a muscle as he held onto her while sounding like he couldn't breathe anymore either. Natasha did not have the luxury of showing her emotions like this however – not even in the presence of the only man she even remotely trusted to never miss his shot, let alone watch her back at the same time.

"We have a job to do Barton," she said quietly as he continued to breathe harshly against her ear. He held her tighter.

"I know," he whispered.

"We have less than an hour before Vargaras meets with his contact," she continued to stare at the wall behind him as he clutched her body to his.

"I know," he repeated. Natasha took a deep breath as she felt him bury his face in her neck – he knew what she was going to say next.

"Alicia Vargaras is not ours," she said quietly. He nearly crushed her frame as he tried to get a hold of his breath.

"I know," he whispered brokenly.

They couldn't change who they were no matter how much they wanted to.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: SHIELD is just being a bastard aren't they? But when the world is hanging in the balance and all that could tip it over is a little girl in the wrong hands – that's a pretty big deal. But then again…you got to fight for what you want right? Once they finish their mission there are going to have to deal with SHIELD and is going to be hell of a showdown.  
**

**Next chapter we meet Antonio Vargaras – finally. **

**Dare 12: I dare you to let go when all you want to do is holder on tighter.  
**


	16. Chapter 16

**I dare you **

**A/N: Hey everyone! This is not the last chapter for this mission - the one after it will be. **

**Enjoy! **

**Chapter 16**

After their impromptu moment Natasha and Clint silently decided it was time to shove everything they were feeling at the moment into a dark corner of their minds and work together to get their mission done and then the hell out of here as faster as possible. Because the longer they stay in this prison the faster they felt like they were going to suffocate from its dreary walls.

Clint watched Natasha work her magic onto the locked cell door and blinked when he soon heard the telltale _click_.

"Let's go," she said quietly as she shoved open the door and glanced down the hall – silence. Apparently no one rowdy was doing time tonight – everyone here was dead silent. It was laughably easy how fast Natasha unlocked their cell and managed to weave through temporary holding section of the building without a single camera detecting them. Her unusual skills spoke volumes of her past without her having to say a single word – and she never does. She never says anything. But that didn't matter – Clint was good at reading between the lines.

"How many times have you broken out of jail exactly...?" Clint asked slowly as he followed her down the dark halls filled with silent cells with mysterious silhouettes lurking in the shadows they didn't want to look too closely at. They could feel eyes on them as they made their way down the hall and knew that the only reason they weren't being alerted to the guards was the fact that all criminals can tell whether you're like them or not. For once the fact that they both worked for the wrong side themselves not too long ago actually made their lives easier.

Most of the time its gets them into shit that makes them want to shoot themselves.

"63 times," she muttered as they made their way down another line of pitch black cells. Clint suddenly stopped walking and stared at her. She slowed down in her brisk pace and turned to give him a questioning look.

"What?" she asked cautiously. Clint shook his head in disbelief.

"Woman you are only 21 year old. How the _fuck_ did you get arrested 63 times without being put on every god damn watch list in the world?" he asked incredulously. Natasha scoffed and yanked him by his collar to drag him down the hall.

"Hair dye and pretty smiles," she muttered as they continued their silent trek. Clint shot her a doubtful glance.

"Apparently your pretty smiles don't do you any good if you still got caught that many times," Clint grumbled. Natasha gave him a dry look.

"Barton, pretty smiles got my ass out of jail within 20 minutes several times over the years," she said blankly. He snorted like he didn't believe her for a second.

"What years? How long could you have _possibly_ been active?" he said shaking his head in disbelief. Sometimes he wondered how Natasha seemed to live though more than him when he was in fact the slight older of the two. Natasha didn't respond right away and he was starting to feel like maybe he shouldn't have jumped to conclusions too fast.

"I started getting arrested when I was 9," she finally said quietly as they rounded another dark corner. Clint tensed and suddenly went silent for a few minutes. Natasha didn't attempt to ask why the usually chatty bastard wasn't talking anymore. They both knew what he was instantly thinking about.

"You were right Tasha," he said reluctantly looking away. She glanced at him as a resigned expression took over his face.

"Right about what?" she asked quietly. He gave her a solemn look.

"We're not safe people to follow," he whispered. She didn't visibly react but he saw her clench her fists at her sides. He smiled softly. The fact that she let him see that much was comforting – maybe they would last as partners after all. Natasha slowly opened the door leading out of their level of the prison. They both managed to take only one step into the cool dark hall when the alarms went off.

"_Temporary holding cells have been breached. Unauthorized access code inputted,"_ a robotic voice said over the loud speakers mounted on the wall. The two escaped false criminals tensed. There was no _way_ they tripped that specific alarm this late into their escape.

"_Shit_ he knows we are here," she growled as she spun around and shoved Clint back into their section of the prison. He dug his foot into the ground and grabbed her by the forearms to stop her even as all the red lights flashed over their head and they heard several pairs of feet pounding on the floor above their heads.

"Why don't we just keep going Tasha?" he asked seriously as he stopped her from pushing them back down the hall. She gave him a firm look and shook her head.

"No, we need to time to break into his damn cell without the entire security force breathing down our necks Barton," she said cautiously. He stared at her with eyes that said he was ready to just end this ruse and burned the entire building to the ground – but there weren't only criminals in this building – it wouldn't be right. More importantly she knew SHIELD would burn _them_ on a stake if they did that.

He didn't let go of her arms though – she could tell he was seriously considered the thought. He seemed to have something personal against prisons. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Let go of my arm Barton," she said warningly. She watched a storm of emotions clash together in his eyes before he slowly let her go and let his hand hang at his sides. She expected him to say something stupid and annoying like usual – he didn't. She tensed as she heard the pounding of synchronized footsteps grow closer before she roughly grabbed his tense arm and dragged him back to their cell. He didn't say a word the entire way back.

She's come to realize that when Clint Barton doesn't talk you should be downright terrified. If she was anyone else she might have been too.

_30 seconds later._

The angry guard that had originally put the new foreign criminals' sorry ass in their cell stalked down the temporary holding cell floor with a furious look on his face. He _told_ his superiors they weren't normal kidnappers! He told them that there was something off about these Americans. He could feel it in his bones that they weren't _nearly_ as concerned or scorned that they got caught then they should have been. However nobody listens to him in this hellhole. _A prisoner is a prisoner and who gives a fuck how they got here _is his boss's motto. He angrily took out his keys to unlock their cell and roughly ripped their door open.

He was seriously disappointed with what he saw.

2 ruffled and clearly still handcuffed foreigners glanced up at him with raised eyebrows and matching uninterested looks – but there was something slightly off about them _again_. They were downright freaking him out with their apparent calmness. What kind of criminals who just got caught would be this calm? The redhead still gave him the creeps. The brown haired man just had a really scary aura around him – even if he was grinning at him.

_Freaks_.

"Did you trip the alarm?" he asked narrowing his eyes. They simply blinked at him. What the fuck?

"Why Tiny - how ever could we do that?" Clint said innocently showing him the cuffs around his wrists. The guard growled and slammed the door shut in their face once more. _He would catch them_ he vowed silently as he relocked the damn cell.

Clint and Natasha both collapsed against each other when they heard the guard angrily stomp away. Clint placed his head in his hands and took a deep breath.

"Tasha we're getting too old for this," he mumbled into his hands. She snorted beside him.

"Speak for yourself old man - I still have 9 brilliant years before I hit 30," she said haughtily. Clint scowled at her arrogance. He was only 3 years older than her.

"I'll laugh at you when you get grey hair from all the stress and stick up your ass business you do," he said with a glare. She glared back at him.

"Russians don't get grey hair," she scoffed. Clint snorted as he pulled his head out of his head and gave her an unimpressed look.

"Yeah - after they created _hair dye_," he said dryly.

She shot him a dirty look.

"We both know I have – but have _you_ ever managed to break out of a prison before Barton?" she asked challengingly. _Or were you a goody two shoes agent your whole god damn life_ she left unsaid. She watched Clint suddenly banged his forehead against the cell wall. That didn't look good.

"Yes," he muttered. _Don't ask Tasha. Oh god don't let her ask._

"What did you do to land _your_ ass in jail?" she asked with a smirk – it was too much fun finally turning the tables and forcing Barton to dig his own grave. He mumbled something unintelligible against the wall.

"What was that Barton?" she asked raising an eyebrow.

"Public nudity," he said through gritted teeth.

Natasha blinked.

She blinked again.

"Barton your depravity knows no bounds," Natasha said dryly.

"Stop quoting Watson – and I was absolutely _wasted_," Clint muttered defensively. She shook her head as she leaned against the wall beside him.

"You really don't hold you liquor well _do_ you?" she asked in genuine surprise. He scowled at her.

"Not after the 7th fucking bottle no. I don't have a bottomless pit stomach like _you_. And before you continue down this line of questioning you do know we are on a time limit right?" he asked slowly. She nodded and glanced at the door.

"I know- I was stalling to make sure our guard had stopped listening in on our conversation," she said simply before she took a set of keys out of her pocket. Clint didn't even know why he asked questions like that anymore. Everything Natasha did was for a reason apparently. Except when he went sort of soft on her – he didn't know why she let him hug her when he did. He didn't want to think it was only to calm him down. He wished she actually needed the human contact too. He wished she needed _him_ damn it. Sometimes he thinks more than just his life was in dangerous the longer he spent his time around a girl like Natasha Romanoff. He had the scary feeling she could break more than just his bones.

"When did you get those?" Clint asked cautiously staring at the newly acquired keys. Natasha shrugged.

"When we were passing the exit," she mumbled as she quickly unlocked the cell once more and dragged his ass down the hall. He didn't even have time to blink before he realized she was dragging him in a different direction then before.

"By the way I found a short cut," she said as she quickly led him down a flight of stairs they had missed the first time around. It instantly linked them to all the other levels in the prison – included the underground ones. Clint gaped at her as she swiftly flew down the stairs noiselessly.

"How the _hell_ do you see these things while still talking to me?" he asked in disbelief. She sent him a wary look over her shoulder as she continued down the stairs.

"I got good at only listening to half the bullshit you say and use the rest of my considerable intelligence to actually finish our missions," she said blankly. Clint scowled at her before he suddenly passed in front of her and took the stairs 2 at a time.

"Then I'm not going to talk to you for the next 10 minutes Romanoff," he said with finality. She snorted at his childishness as she watched him bound down the stairs with immature determination.

"See ya Russian _sucker_!" he called over his shoulder as he stopped at the solitary confinement high security level door and promptly yanked it open before he walked right into the hall.

She rolled her eyes as she followed at a saner pace – if he got shot on sight it wasn't going to be her fault.

She opened the door and nearly walked right into him as he stood facing her with a relatively serious look on his face. She was getting used to his bipolar ways though. She tensed.

That was an unsettling thought. She never got used to _anyone_.

"Didn't want to walk down the scary halls by yourself Barton?" she asked raising an eyebrow at his stilled form. He didn't take the bait.

"Something is not right," he said staring at her intensely and then glancing around the silent dimly light hall. The lights were flickering and there was a watery fluid that coated the ground. There wasn't enough light to see what it was exactly. Nobody liked prison - but underground prisons were even _more_ suffocating then ground level. No one saw the light of day down here.

"You've only been here for 5 seconds Barton – calm down," she said as she brushed passed him and entered the dark hall.

"Tell me you don't feel it too," he said turning around and hovering right behind her – almost protectively. She shot him a warning look over her shoulder.

"All I feel right now is you in my personal space Barton – step _back_," she said shoving him away from her with both her hands. He grabbed her by the shoulder and instantly dragged her behind him. She shot him a furious look.

"Listen to me for once in your life and walk behind me," he said quietly but with an edge that told her he actually meant it for once.

"I am _not_ a god damn damsel in distress Barton!" she growled at him. He suddenly held up a gun from out of nowhere. She tensed –where the hell did he get a gun?

"I am not trying to degrade your worth as a partner Tasha. I would never work with you if I didn't think you were the best. You _are_ the best. But I have a weapon and you don't – so stay behind me," he said firmly. She glared daggers at his back as he turned around and started walking down the hall.

_God damn righteous self-scarifying fucking bi polar annoying bastard! _

She was smart enough not to yell that at him right now.

"Where did you get the gun Barton," she asked as she angrily walked in step behind him. She felt him tense.

"I walked right onto it," he said stiffly. Natasha suddenly stopped walking and took a sharp breath. She was ignoring it before but he had just confirmed her theory.

"The liquid on the floor is not water Barton," she said slowly.

"I know," he said darkly. He slowly walked around a corner with his gun raise in his hand. Natasha was right behind him but then suddenly slammed into his back when he abruptly stopped moving. Natasha angrily took a step back and shot him a glare.

"Barton why the hell did you sto-" she instantly lost her voice as they stared at the shocking sight in front of them. 12 terrified guards with various bleeding knife wounds were all hogtied and gagged sitting lined up against the wall in front of the only solitary cell at the end of the hall.

The door was unlocked.

Honestly the truly insane killers weren't them. There were people who were much more insane and brutal then the simple cut clean assassins they were.

The dim lights instantly fused and went out. They were instantly bathed in pitch darkness. They heard the guards whimper in fear.

_Oh shit. _

"Natasha get back," he said warningly pushing back against her. Natasha glared at him.

"Don't tell me what to do-" she started to hiss but he instantly cut her off.

"NATASHA GET DOWN _NOW_!" Clint shouted as he shoved her out of the way – but he wasn't fast enough when he heard the telltale gunfire and felt the bullet graze passed his face and instantly hit something soft. He felt his heart freeze.

"SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!" he heard her growl as she suddenly lost her balanced and collapsed against the wall – she couldn't feel her left arm anymore. _Oh_ _shit_.

The second Natasha was down Clint swiftly spun around and rapidly fired 5 shots into the darkness in every direct he heard the slightest hint of motion. He was going to _kill_ this bastard. He was going to kill him _right now_!

No wonder Alicia wasn't scared _shit_ of Natasha. Natasha didn't reek insanity. Natasha wasn't even _close_ to being as terrifying as this bastard.

Alicia's father was god damn mentally _insane_. How the fuck did she turn out like she did? How the hell did SHIELD not see this coming?

"ANTONIO VARGARAS YOU ARE A DEAD MAN!" Clint shouted down the hall.

_Click_.

Clint froze as he felt a metal object rest against the back of his head.

"Am I?" someone whispered ominously from behind him.

Antonio Vargaras was _definitely_ not sitting in his solitary cell waiting to die.

SHIELD had sent them on a fucking suicide mission.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Well. Whiplash from the cute kid fluff, to the heartbreaking assassin moment, to the damn scariness of insane criminals right? **

**Did you ever wonder why they became such hardened assassins by the time the Avengers came around? I had an idea it was because of messed up missions like these. **

**P.S. Damn Alicia your dad is fucking scary. **

**Dare: no dare. ( I went back and listed the dare at the end of all the chapters. You can go read them if you like)  
**


	17. Chapter 17

**I dare you **

**A/N: Hello! Isn't it fun to know you don't have to wait that long to see the next chapter? haha. **

**Chapter 17 **

Natasha breathed harshly as she leaned against the wall staring at her partner frozen in a standoff with their target. Damn if she ever saw Alicia again she was going to ask that girl how on earth she managed to stay sane living with a man like this. Natasha didn't bother to analyze the fact that she didn't really believe Alicia was sane at all. None of them truly were after all that they've been through.

Vargaras shoved the gun hard against Clint's head and forced him to lean forward at a painful angle.

"I am not an easy man to kill agent Barton," Vargaras said dangerously. Clint's eyes burned a hole into the floor as he seethed silently. He could hear Natasha's harsh breath like a storm ringing in his ears. He was _angry_. He was _beyond_ angry. In 6 months no one has _ever_ been able to land a hit on his partner. He was going to make sure this bastard could never shoot anyone ever again.

"I've had a lot of practice," Clint growled as he clenched his hand around his gun. If he could just shoot faster than Vargaras…

"Drop the gun," Vargaras ordered. Clint tensed – he didn't move an inch. Vargaras didn't seem fazed at all. He was a good agent before he betrayed SHIELD. He knew how to push someone's buttons.

"Drop the gun or I'll shot her again," Vargaras said pulling out a second gun and pointing it in Natasha's direction. She narrowed her eyes and scoffed daring him to try with her furious eyes.

They all heard a metal object clatter to the ground in front of Clint anyway. She clenched her jaw in barely restrained anger. He just threw away his only chance of getting out of this entire situation! That_ bastard_! That _idiot_!

"Turn around Barton – I want to see your face when the light leaves your eyes," Vargaras said darkly. Clint steeled his eyes as he did as he was told.

"You're a sick bastard Vargaras," Clint growled and he slowly turned around to face the dark face of Antonio Vargaras. The reason he was standing in this hellhole right now. The reason he was in Spain. The reason Natasha was bleeding to death beside him. The reason he met a girl name Alicia. He couldn't bring himself to regret anything except the fact that he wasn't fast enough to push Natasha out of the line of fire.

"No, I am a resourceful one. You think that a simple prison is enough to hold me here? After all the years I spent sticking idiots in here? This place is a _joke_," Vargaras said shaking his in disgust. Clint didn't know if he should just gut the bastard and be damned with the consequences. But Natasha would be left to fend for herself if he got shot too so he continued to stall.

"Somewhere between now and 8 months ago you have completely lost your god damn mind Vargaras," Clint said angrily. Vargaras laughed darkly.

"Lost my mind eh? How does a person who has lost their mind get their hands on the codes the give them the power to destroy nations Barton? How does a person who lost their mind find all the necessary people to build a force powerful enough to scare his former organization that prided themselves on being better sneaks then all the other intelligence organizations in the world?" Vargaras asked as Clint tightened his grip around the trigger. He narrowed his eyes.

"Your mission in Cambodia was an honest mistake Vargaras. SHIELD didn't know you were alive. They would have come months sooner to get your out of there if they did," Clint said carefully. He felt Vargaras freeze instantly and something like fear flickered across his face. Then the crazy all-consuming rage in his eyes was back.

"How the _fuck_ do you know about Cambodia?" Vargaras shouted furiously. Clint didn't look away for even a second.

"I read your file. At the moment you've cause a big enough riot that _everyone_ in SHIELD has read about your mission gone wrong," Clint said cautiously. Vargaras shook in rage and suddenly aimed both the guns in his hands at Clint's head. Natasha was no longer a direct target – that was exactly what he wanted.

"You have _no_ idea what it's like to be left to wither away _alone_ on a _battlefield_ for _months_!" Vargaras growled shoving the guns harder against Clint's forehead. Clint took a sharp breath. He was about to break a promise he made to himself a long time ago. He was going to break the seal on a chest full of bloodstained memories he swore he would never look at again. Life just wouldn't let his ghosts _rest_.

"_Wrong_. I do Vargaras. I know _exactly_ what it feels like to be lost in the middle of a bloody battlefield and the madness that creeps up on you when you are the only _living_, breathing body for miles surrounded by the dead. I know what it was like to feel like the only people you had to talk to were your dead comrades and children you couldn't save. I know what it's like to feel like you are the scum of the earth and that _nothing_ and _no_ _one_ is going to save you," Clint said steadily. He was talking to Vargaras as much as he was talking to his silent partner behind him. She had the question burning in her eyes for hours ever since his panic attack during the train bomb incident. She never asked though. He knew she never would either. He was telling her now anyway.

"So we are the same," Vargaras said with a harsh laugh. Clint tensed.

"_No_. I didn't use my anger to fuel a war against the world that screwed me over Vargaras. The day I finally got dragged out of that hellhole I stopped being a soldier. All I had were raw field skills and so I picked up my riffle and became a hired assassin with a personal law to only kill the men who started wars like that. You become a terrorist warped in your insanity. It is _not_ the same," Clint said darkly. Vargaras scoffed.

"Your nobility is revolting Barton. It doesn't suit you," Vargaras said giving him a burning look. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"There _is_ no nobility in taking lives – it doesn't matter whose life you're taking or even why you are taking it. Once you start there is no going back. It becomes either kill or be killed," Clint said with a slightly unfocused expression. Vargaras gave him a calculative look.

"Then today is the day you're philosophy has come to an end. Are _you_ ready to die Barton?" Vargaras said with a terrifying smile on his face. Clint tensed – he was always ready to die. He didn't even used to care which mission he would eventually die on – until he met _her_.

Now he kind of wanted to live again.

Clint was about to take a deep breath and just start throwing punches at the bastard as Vargaras raised his finger to pull the trigger when suddenly a large metal rod came out of nowhere and smashed into the back Vargaras' head causing him to collapse onto the floor. Clint's eyes shot up as he stared at his raggedly breathing partner holding a crow bar with her currently only working left arm. Damn she was _still_ a badass fighter even while being immobilised due to the bleed wound in her right shoulder. Clint finally managed to let out a breath he didn't know he was holding as she lowered her arms still breathing erratically. For a second neither of them knew what to say – until Clint did.

"You're a good partner," he said with a sigh of relief. Natasha snorted. God he was cheesy.

"Drag him into the cell and tie him up. We have less than 5 minutes to get him to talk before we take him out and get overrun by the rest of the guards," she said using the crow bar in her hand to point to the solitary confinement room. Clint blinked as she instantly went into Black Widow mode with her calculative mind taking in all the parameters of their current situation.

He was still stuck on the fact that he didn't want to die anymore.

"Where did you find a crow bar?" Clint asked the first thing that came to his mind. Natasha gave him a long look.

"Shut up and just _move_ the damn bastard Barton," she said falling to her knees to pick up his fallen gun and taking Vargaras' as well. She couldn't use her right arm at the moment – but she was still a better shot with her left arm then a professional shooter is after 7 years of training. Sometimes natural talent is a curse. Clint sighed as he fell to his knees and dragged the dangerous volatile ex-agent down the hall with Natasha hot on his heels. He sighed as she shoved the cell door open. This was going to be a long 3 minutes.

The next thing Antonio knew when he had finally managed to wake himself up was that he was right back to where he started when he landed his ass here less than a week ago. He glanced down at the chair he was chained to and rolled his eyes. He lazily looked up at his capturers and amateurs interrogators. Pathetic.

_Click. _

He suddenly found his _own_ gun pointed at his head with the angry eyes of Clint Barton staring him down from the end of the weapon. Payback was a bitch.

"Are you going to turn the tables and kill me now Clint Barton?" Vargaras said dryly. Clint's face tightened as he glared at the traitor.

"Even after we rescued you from Cambodia. Even after you got your family back. Why did you betray SHIELD?" he growled at the dark haired man. He had to know. He had to know how a man could do the things he did when he had a daughter like Alicia.

"Why does anyone ever betray their organization?" the Spanish convict drawled.

_BANG! _

Both their eyes shot over Clint's shoulder to stare at the tense Russian who had just fired a shot at someone out of sight.

"Hurry up Barton his god damn contacts are almost here," Natasha said while she leaned against door frame, clutching her bleeding arm and watching the hall steadily. She ignored the dull ache – she has suffered from much worse wounds then this.

"I see you are running out of time to interrogate me," Vargaras said with a dark laugh. Clint shoved his gun harder into Vargaras' face and narrowed his eyes.

"Stop messing around Vargaras. You know why we are here. We know why you're here too. You are playing a dangerous game you know. Terrorists don't give a _shit_ about you when they get what they want - you are being stupid," Clint said angrily. All he had to do was pull the trigger and this fucked up mission would be over. That was all he had to do.

"And you believe SHIELD does?" he said with a snort. Clint clenched his hand around his gun.

"I don't believe in a lot of things Vargaras - but I believe in choices. And as long as SHIELD allows me to make the choice between yes or no in my job they can't possibly be as fucked up as the other side," Clint growled. Vargaras raised an eyebrow slowly.

"Ah. You're _that_ type of agent. You run on a philosophy. Well not to crush your dreams or anything but one day even SHIELD will take away your choice too Barton. They always do," Vargaras said vaguely. Clint stared at him in disbelief.

"That's the day I'll _quit_ Vargaras - not the day I'll pick up arms and kill innocently people!" Clint shouted shaking in rage.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Several masked and armed thugs fell to the ground behind him as Natasha continued to watch his back. She glanced down at her gun and clenched her jaw.

"Barton I'm running out of bullets here...," Natasha said warningly. They both froze when the entire prison compound suddenly went on red alert. As in the _entire_ damn building.

_"Prisoners have escaped from temporary containment! High security cell 103 has been breached! Lock down in mode will be initiated in 3 minutes - all guards on red alert!"_ someone ordered over the prison intercom. Natasha tensed as she watched literally a small _army_ of guards race around the corner – oh she definitely didn't have enough bullets anymore. She threw her gun over her shoulder and held her one good fist up in defense as she held the other one close to her chest. The guards laughed at her - but she was used to being underestimated. She only needed one arm to beat their ass. Correction – she really only needed her legs. The next thing they knew one by one they were being smashed into the wall and gutted in the stomach by her deceptively strong kicks.

"Hurry up already Barton!" she shouted over her shoulder.

Clint raised his gun and shoved it into Vargaras' face. The man didn't even flinch.

"Good bye Vargaras," he said dangerously. The convict simply smiled back at his dark expression. Clint tensed when he suddenly noticed Vargaras' eyes flash green.

_Holy shit_ he had green eyes.

Fuck.

"Take the shot Barton! Take the damn shot!" Natasha shouted as she continued to hold off the guards. Clint tried to pull the trigger, he really did - but he couldn't do it.

He couldn't do it.

"I _can't_!" Clint growled staring at the calm ex-agent.

"Why the hell not?" she shouted as she elbowed a rather aggressive guard and broke his wrist before she took his gun and shot the guard that rushed at her from behind.

"Cause he has green eyes!" he shouted back. She froze and nearly got knocked to the ground because of the new guards turning the corner. She quickly dived to the ground to avoid getting hit by their carelessly aimed bullets. She rolled across the dirty floor and winced as she banged her wounded shoulder into the wall. She quickly got to her feet and shot 3 of the guards in the knees while the pain still ripped through her exhausted body. She could only do this for so damn long!

"What the fuck does _that_ mean?" she shouted in disbelief as she promptly tripped one of the guards who lunged at her and pistol whipped him unconscious.

Clint threw his gun to the ground with an echoing clatter. Instead of shooting him he slammed his fist into Vargaras' face. The bastard didn't even react as he found his face crashing into the floor. Clint dragged the bleeding man off the ground and shook him vigorously.

"I met your daughter you know you little bastard? You ruined her life! You were one of the _lucky_ agents! You had a family! Who the fuck is that lucky? You had everything! And then you threw it all _away_!" Clint shouted at him as he dragged his limp body and shoved him into a wall. Vargaras coughed as Clint roughly dandled him off the ground.

"Some things are more important them family," Vargaras said as he spat the blood pooling in his mouth onto the floor. Clint stared at him in disbelief.

"The fuck are you talking about? I am one of the most screwed up people in the world with an even more messed up partner but even _we_ know your family should be the most important thing in your life! She was your daughter! You're fucking daughter!" Clint growled repeatedly smashed the man against the wall.

"Alicia was always a stubborn and wildly undisciplined child. I wanted a man to take the family name and all I got was _her_," Vargaras said darkly finally showing some fucking emotion. Clint suddenly froze and stared at the man in utter shock.

He hated his own daughter. _Holy shit_.

"You pathetic piece of _shit_," Clint said in disgust.

"CLINT WE'RE RUNNING OUT OF _TIME_!" Natasha shouted as she ducked as a rain of bullets flew over her head. She was starting to lose focus in her left eye. Oh shit the blood loss was making her lightheaded. She turned around and angrily took out another 10 guards – this was a _nightmare_! Clint couldn't hear her through his rage though.

"You deserve to _die_! You deserve to burn in hell forever! But I'm not going to be the one to kill you - because otherwise I'll never be able to look a little girl in the eyes again," he growled before he took the memory eraser out of his pocket and injected the entire damn thing into the bastard's neck. Vargaras slumped to the ground as the chemical started to take effect. He tried to talk but his mouth had suddenly gone numb as an instantaneous side effect. When the chemical got through his entire system he wouldn't even remember his own name.

"Have a wonderful fucking time in prison," Clint spat at the unresponsive ex-agent before he spun around and shot 3 clear shots to take out the guards that had managed to momentarily pin Natasha to the wall. The 3 guards collapsed to their knees holding their shoulders in pain. Clint shoved them all away from his partner and stared at her with all rage and anger he was feeling at the moment. She stared back at him with her own intense glare that dared him to yell at her and face her _own_ wrath. He took the hint.

"Let's go – we have a kid to find," he said darkly taking her by her good arm and roughly dragged her behind him as they left the high security cell.

If Natasha didn't know Clint was on the verge of burning the entire building to the ground that held men that made his skin crawl she would have punched him for dragging her like a doll.

But for once she cared more about his sanity then her pride. Because the longer she remained partners with Clint Barton the faster she was starting to realization she didn't know a _god damn_ thing about him.

**A/N: Time to get the hell out and kick SHIELD's ass for taking Alicia. Angry bleeding assassins – scary stuff. Hope you liked the little backstory. There is a bit more to it. **


	18. Chapter 18

**I dare you **

**A/N: Tissue box. You need a tissue box. God I needed a tissue box. **

**Chapter 18**

Within 20 minutes Clint had managed to drag their ass out of the prison while it was still being overrun by Vargaras' men and the prison guards going head on at each other. They were all fighting for no reason at this point.

No one knew yet that Vargaras was basically a potato now.

Clint shot the lock off a car sitting in a parking lot not too far away from the prison and quickly tore open the driver's side door. He quickly got down on his knees to hotwired the ignition wires underneath the steering wheel to jump start the engine. Natasha sat beside him in the passenger seat taking in deep calming breaths as she tried to stop the bleeding in her shoulder by putting pressure on it with a random towel that was sitting in the car. Clint glanced at his partner for a second before he quickly sped up his motions – they needed to get to a motel and take a look at her wound soon.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly he cut a set of wires with one of her many knives and reattached them to another pair. She didn't visible reaction but he was used to that by now. Now he just paid attention to the slight flickers in her eyes and the telling levels of tension in her shoulders. However right now her eyes were blank and her entire body suspiciously calm. He knew Natasha was extremely difficult to read when she really wanted to throw you off. And for some reason right now she had every single god damn wall he ever saw up and in his face. It was a little alarming.

"I'm fine Barton hurry up with the ignition," she said as she stared out into the dark parking lot around them. She even sounded detached at the moment. He paused as he watched her stare holes into the dashboard. She was thinking at a maddening pace. She was thinking up a storm and he didn't have a clue what her thoughts were about at the moment.

"Something is wrong," he said slowly. Her eyes instantly steeled. Oh yeah something was definitely wrong.

"Nothing is wrong Barton – get the car started before we get caught and never leave this damn hellhole," she growled as she squeezed the towel around her shoulder tighter. He shook his head carefully.

"You lie well enough that I can't tell what's wrong – but you're not good enough to stop me from seeing you're not okay," he said carefully. She shot him a dark look.

"Barton we haven't been partner long enough for you to even understand when I am righteously pissed at you and when I really need to you just shut up-" she started to say but she immediately cut herself off as she winced and suddenly banged her head against dashboard. He watched her hold back a scream as she inhaled sharply. That was _definitely_ not voluntary.

"You're in _shit_ load of pain," he said freezing in place. She took in several ragged breaths as she leaned her forehead against the dashboard.

"No shit," she hissed. He knew that. He didn't understand the _why_.

"But you only got shot once Natasha…" he said cautiously. One shot wasn't supposed to be this bad. Natasha growled in frustration.

"Barton…we have left a god damn red bread crumb trail starting from the damn prison all the way out here. I have been shot for at least 20 minutes. I lost enough blood that I should already be knocked out _cold_," she said angrily as she shut her eyes tightly. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair.

"Maybe…maybe we should take you to the hospital…" he said carefully. She froze and instantly stopped moving. That was of the first telling reaction he got in the past 20 minutes. He gave her a carefully look.

"Maybe I'll shoot you and land _you_ in the hospital," she said irritably trying to cover up her slip-up. It was too late though. He suddenly stopped trying to start the car and simply stared at her.

"What do you have against hospitals?" he asked quietly.

"I don't _do_ hospitals," she said without looking at him. He stared at her with searching eyes.

"Why?" he asked slowly. She clenched her jaw.

"I just don't," she said firmly.

"_Why _Tasha?" he asked more forcefully. He saw her tense and her resolve suddenly cracked.

"Because they'll never let me fucking leave okay?" she shouted pulling her head off the dashboard to glare at him fiercely. He stared back at her storming eyes with tense but calm ones of his own. Then something finally clicked in his head.

"What did the Red Room do to you exactly?" he asked slowly. She suddenly went still and promptly looked away from his questioning eyes. She was deflecting again.

"It doesn't matter anymore. Start the car Barton. I'm fine," she said quietly – her dull tone was freaking him out. He stared at her like he didn't believe her for a second.

"You're not okay Tasha…" he said cautiously. She shot him a burning look.

"I said I'm fine Barton!" she growled. She then suddenly tensed and swore in Russian before her body decided it was finally time to shut down. She knew it was coming before she even blacked out. Stupid pathetic body. He caught her easily as she fell on top of him and gently lowered her head into his lap. He sighed as he stared at his unconscious partner lying on him. She was harsh and deadly and cold. And yet he knew she was capable of caring and joking and being someone fun to be around – at least he thought so. He glanced at her dark stained shoulder and slowly pulled the towel off of her.

He froze as he stared at the wound in shock.

Oh she had a _lot_ of things to tell him when she woke up.

_1 hour later. _

Natasha knew where she was before she had even fully regained consciousness. Well okay that wasn't exactly true. She knew she was lying on a bed with her injured arm lying on something soft while it was being poked and probed by someone with careful hands. She really didn't know much at all besides the fact that she could smell _him_ and his stupid gun powder mixed with chestnut smell which told her all she really needed to know at this point. The annoying bastard was still _here_.

Her chest didn't loosen at all. Not at all.

"I know you're awake," he said quietly from above her head. She opened her eyes and stared up at him as he watched her with concern swirling in his eyes. He showed her too much sometimes. She hated it. She hated that she could only see it when he wanted her too. She hated that she was a hypocrite because she rarely ever did the same.

"How?" she asked as she simply continued to stare at him. He shrugged as he pulled a damp cloth off the pile of medical supplies beside him and started wipe the blood off of his hands. It was probably hers.

"It's not hard to tell when you're breathing pattern change for a fraction of a second while you're lying on me Tasha," he said carefully as he continued to watch her while trying to gauge her reaction. She finally realized that she was for all intents and purposes lying in his lap. For a second she considered bolting up and away from him as fast as she possibly could. But she was honestly too exhausted to care about her fiercely self-reliant reputation and simply sighed.

"How long was I out for Barton?" she asked tiredly instead of blowing up at him. He looked slightly surprised that she wasn't going freak out about their awkward positioning. Then again she just lost a shit load of blood so he wouldn't be too keen on moving too faster, too soon either.

"An hour," he said slowly. She tensed against him and firmly shut her eyes.

"Damn," she muttered under her breath. He placed his hands beside her injured shoulder and waited for her to lead the conversation. He wasn't going to do it.

"My shoulder is numb," she said without opening her eyes. He nodded. She could probably feel the motion.

"I removed the bullet and gave you a slight anesthetic to numb the area," he said quietly. He felt her pause and consider what he said.

"Barton…where the _hell_ did you get anesthetics in the middle of nowhere?" she asked opening her eyes to give him a disbelieving look. He smiled slightly.

"Tasha you keep knives in weird places, I keep other useful things as well," he said mysteriously. She snorted.

"You're crazy," she muttered looking away from his amused face and glancing at her tightly bandaged shoulder. He felt her grow tense again and simply waited for her to say something.

"You bandaged my wound," she said quietly. He nodded.

"Yes," he said simply. She was silent for several minutes.

"Are you going to ask?" she finally said slowly. He smiled softly at her.

"No. Not if you don't want me to," he said quietly and he lightly played with her hair. She scowled at his childishness. It just likes to rear its ugly head and annoy the shit out of her whatever he hasn't pissed her off enough. She knows now that he didn't need to ask. He had put two and two together and just needed confirmation from her at some point. She didn't know if she wanted to give it to him.

"You're wound is already healing," he said casually running his hand through her hair once. She froze at the contact – he paused as well to see what she would do. Did he have _no _self-preservation skills or something?

"I heal fast," she said gruffly looking away from his careful gaze and not commenting on his affectionate gesture. She felt him think quietly as he carefully ran his hand through her hair again – no self-preservation skills at all _indeed_.

"It doesn't look like you got shot an hour ago Tasha. It looks like you got shot a week ago," he said carefully. She shut her eyes and took several deep breaths.

"I know," she said quietly. He watched her carefully and continued running his hand through her hair – just because she was still letting him. He didn't know what that meant but he wasn't going to question it.

"What did they do to you Tasha?" he asked starting out the window with a pensive look on his face.

"Specialized ability enhancement serum," she said staring up at the ceiling with a blank look. It wasn't a mask – it was just plain feeling empty. Clint tensed. He was afraid of that.

"Natasha if they pumped you with enhancers doesn't that mean they could also do the opposite-" he started to say but she cut him off without even raising her voice.

"Don't go there Barton," she said quietly. He grimaced at the genuine lack of emotion in her voice. She just refused to feel anything about this.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. There was nothing else he could say. She shook her head.

"Don't be sorry. I never planned to survive this long anyway," she said honestly – without a hint of sorrow in her voice. It was just a fact to her. His hand stilled in her hair as he simply stared at her for several seconds.

"How long were you meant to be around?" he asked dreading the answer. She shrugged.

"Maybe until I was 25? Most girls died before they hit 20," she said quietly. She felt his entire body grow rigid under her head.

"It's not fair. It's not fair that they took your choice away from you," he said clenching his left hand at his side. She sighed and closed her eyes.

"Life is not fair Barton," she said softly. She heard him scoff above her.

"Yeah – but I try damn hard to make sure it agrees with me most of the time," he said arrogantly. She snorted.

"Apparently you do a _shit _job at persuading life to go the way you plan," she said dryly. He had a contemplative look on his face for a moment.

"I don't know. A lot of shit happened in my life Tasha – but there are some good things that happened to me too. At least a few," he said carefully. Natasha raised an eyebrow as she looked up at his faraway face.

"You want to bet I can count those few good things on one hand?" she asked challengingly. He smiled sheepishly.

"Not a chance," he said with a laugh. She felt the vibration rock through her body and froze. It felt weird actually physically feeling his amusement. She didn't know if she particularly liked it. She finally decided she wasn't going to pass out if she moved too much and pulled herself into a sitting position. She felt the blood rush to her head and held onto the bed to steady herself before turning to face him. He was still comfortably leaning against the ancient backboard of the creaking bed they were both sitting on. He watched her glance around with a guarded look – always taking in everything about her surroundings even if they were relatively safe at the moment. She was a bit late though. She raised her hand to her head and scowled. It felt like a damn bird's nest. Bastard.

"You messed up my hair," she said grumpily. He smiled at her.

"Don't regret it," he said simply. She shot him a dirty look. His smiled simply deepened. She huffed and looked away.

"Child," she muttered under her breath. He rolled his eyes.

They stared at each other for several heart beats of silence.

"What do we do now Tasha?" he asked quietly. She finally tore her eyes away from his and stared at her hands.

"What do you after you spare a target's life that shouldn't have been spared?" she asked without looking back up at him. She heard him grew still before he finally sighed and rubbed his hands over his face in exhaustion.

"I didn't do it for him," he said looking away guilty. He knew they should have killed Vargaras. He was too dangerous. But she just nodded. She knew why he couldn't do it.

"I know," she said burning a hole into the white sheets she was kneeling on. He watched a conflicting internal battle run through her mind before he just decided to solve part of the indecision for her.

"You can ask you know," he said quietly. She tensed but didn't look up at him. He thought she was just going to keep ignoring him until she finally spoke.

"Where was your last military assignment Barton?" she asked slowly. He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. So _that's _what was bothering her.

"Bosnia," he whispered painfully. He felt her rapidly grow rigid without even opening his eyes. She shifted away from him instantly.

"Why are you moving away Tasha?" he asked slowly opening his eyes and seeing a sudden guarded look on her face.

"When were you in Bosnia?" she asked tensely. He took a closer look at the tension in her form. She looked like she was about to bolt. That was…_strange_.

"Why are you asking so many questions Tasha? You never ask this many questions..." he said carefully. She glared at him and suddenly grabbed him by the edge of his shirt to drag him forward and stared at him dead in the eyes.

"When exactly were you in Bosnia Barton?" she said with the tension clear in her voice. He stared back at her slightly strained expression and knew Bosnia meant something to her.

"Natasha…what did you do?" he asked cautiously. She shut her eyes and gripped his shirt tighter. He felt her take several shaky breaths before she answered him.

"I was a part of the political assassination plot that started that war," she said through gritted teeth.

He froze and stopped breathing.

He didn't know what to say.

She instantly shoved him away from her and jumped off the bed. He sat on his knees trying to process what she just said. She was in Bosnia when the war started. She was still a part of the other side. He heard her angrily grab her gun off the side table and stalk out of sight. He soon realized she wasn't going to stay anymore.

"It's not your fault Natasha!" he shouted as he scrambled off the bed and ran after her.

"Shut _up _Barton," she growled as she angrily walked away from him. He rounded the corner and quickly caught up to her.

"No! You are warping this into something it is definitely not! Don't you dare try to somehow twist what happened to me into being your fault!" he said firmly from behind her.

"Stop following me Barton," she growled as she ripped the hotel door open and stalked down the hall. He exited the room hot on her heels.

"You're being unreasonable Natasha!" he shouted angrily following behind her.

"Leave me _alone_ Barton," she said heatedly without looking at him. He shook his head in disbelief.

"You're going to start bleeding again!" he said incredulously.

I don't _give _a shit!" she growled. He stared at her like she was crazy. He didn't doubt that she was anymore.

"You can't just leave right now Natasha! We still have to report back on our mission!" he said finally getting fed up with her dramatics. She didn't even _look _at him.

"I _quit_!" she shouted slamming her hand against the door leading down the stairs.

He froze as he felt her words ring in his ears. _What_?

The door slammed in his face and broke him out of his shock.

"What do you _mean _you quit?" he cried in frustration as he threw open the door and ran down the stairs after her.

"We're not partners anymore," she growled and she stiffly flew down the stairs. Clint clenched his fists. He had enough. He ran the few flights of stairs between them and instantly barreled into her back. She tensed at the sudden contact and tried to shove him away from her but he was faster and quickly caught both her arms making sure not to seriously hurt her injured one and slammed her entire body into the wall. She glared at him with intense hatred – but he now knew it wasn't actually aimed at him – it was aimed at herself.

Natasha Romanoff hated herself.

How the _fuck _did he not see that?

"Natasha I was in Bosnia 5 _years_ ago! You were only 16 years old damn it! Whatever they made you do is not your fault!" he shouted holding her in place even as she struggled intensely to get away from him.

"I gave you a good reason now let me _go_ Barton!" she shouted angrily tugging at her trapped wrist. He frantically shook his head staring at her intensely.

"It's not good enough Tasha!" he shouted back heatedly. She stared at him in disbelief.

"What do you _mean_ it's not good enough? What counts as good enough?" she shouted furiously. He pressed her body into the wall to stop her from being able to throw him off of her.

"_Nothing_! Nothing is a good enough reason for why you have to go Tasha! You don't have to leave!" he pleaded trying to get her to see that simple truth. She didn't look convinced at all.

"Yes. I. _Do_!" she screamed in frustration. He stared at her in disbelief.

"Where would you go? Where would you run to Tasha?" he said angrily glaring at her. She glared right back at him fiercely.

"I don't _know_!" she growled. He clenched his jaw in anger.

"You're running away again Tasha! You're being a coward! Where did all your bravery go? Tell me!" he demanded. She tensed.

'I was _never_ brave Barton! Never! I just did my job!" she shouted back. He took a deep breath.

"That's exactly what I'm saying! It's not _your_ decisions Tasha! The people who led the war and initiated it are the ones responsible! Not the people they used to do the fighting with! Not _us_!" he shouted rapidly running out of breath. They were both breathing heavily now slammed up against the stairwell wall. She shook her head furiously unable to accept his words – because they were just words. It didn't change _anything_.

"So many people died Clint! So many people died because I pulled a trigger on a stupid politician who was cheating on his own wife anyway! He was a bastard! And yet the damn country went into turmoil the day after!" she shouted before she lost the fight in her and collapsed to her knees. He fell with her and let go of her hands to pull her into another one of his bone crushing hugs. She didn't hug him back but he held on tighter anyway.

"It's not your fault!" he whispered fervently into her hair. She shook in his arms as she slammed her eyes shut.

"Children like Alicia _died_ Clint," she whispered painfully. He shook his head and held her fiercely.

"You were a child yourself - not your fault," he whispered firmly.

"Cities went up in flames," she said emptily. He tightened his grip around her waist.

"You didn't trigger the bombs - not your fault," he whispered determinedly. She clutched the edge of his shirt and felt her eyes glaze over.

"Thousands of soldiers like you lost their lives," she whispered. He pulled back and stared at her lost expression – she didn't _want_ to hear that it wasn't her fault. Everyone told her it wasn't her fault. She wanted to hear something else. Something no one ever told her once in her _entire_ life.

It wasn't even about Bosnia anymore.

It was about everything she ever did wrong. Everyone she ever did wrong.

"I forgive you," he whispered pouring all his heart retching feelings into those 3 words.

She shut her eyes and finally held him as tightly as he always held her.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: I think I my heart just broke a bit writing that. :( **


	19. Chapter 19

**I dare you **

**A/N: Alicia! Where are you? **

**Chapter 19 **

After Clint and Natasha dealt with their mutual ghosts they silently agreed to pack up and go home. They were done here. They were done with terrorists. They were sick of Spain. They never wanted to step foot in a prison ever again. They were exhausted mentally and emotionally. They were never going to talk about Bosnia ever again.

They were both silent during the ride to the airport when Clint's phone started ringing. He slowly took it out of his pocket and flipped it open to hold it to his ear as he continued to keep driving.

"Hello?" he said cautiously. He heard quiet shuffling at the other end as a door closed shut before the person answered.

"Barton? It's Coulson. I have good news and bad news for you," Coulson said steadily in his forever calm tone. Clint and Natasha both froze.

If they were talking to Coulson that meant they finally had a chance to find out about Alicia. They haven't heard a thing about her in over 5 hours.

"Does the good news or bad news have to do with Alicia Vargaras?" Clint asked slowly. He heard Coulson pause at the other end of the line. They were terrified of the answer.

"Yes," he said with a sigh. They tensed since they were only miles away from the airport. They had minutes before they would reach their destination and get on a plane to take them home.

"Tell us the good news first," Clint said suddenly. Natasha shot him a weird look. Why would he want to get his hopes up only to have them be shot down instantly? Coulson thought that was weird too.

"That is a first…usually most people want the bad news first," Coulson said slowly. Clint shrugged.

"I honestly want to hear something happy right now Coulson. Life really sucks at the moment," Clint said with a sigh. He felt Natasha tense beside him. He placed the phone on speaker and placed it between them. He then proceeded to grab her hand without looking away from the road and giving it a comforting squeeze. Life sucked - but it was never because of her. He smiled to himself when she didn't let go – in fact she even squeezed back lightly. They were finally starting to understand each other and let each other in. They both heard Coulson take a deep breath.

"Okay good news first. Alicia is safe and with me right now. She is going into surgery earlier than expected because of certain complications in the general tense atmosphere. She'll have the tattoos removed in 2 days and be physically free of the codes that made her a weapon," Coulson said slowly. Clint sighed in relief.

"That is some pretty awesome good news - can we talk to her?" Clint asked he felt Natasha shift beside him. Her hand was warm in his but the key thing he was paying attention to was her pulse. And it was beating erratically at the moment – she was uneasy too. He liked to think that part of it might be because of him - but he doubted it. She probably knew he could feel her heart beat and was only letting him feel her uneasiness because she wanted to. After everything they've been through she was _finally_ taking down a few walls.

Clint didn't think for a second she would ever take down _all_ of them.

He hears Coulson cough awkwardly at the other end as he tried to find the right words.

"Ah…no – she's not physically in the same room as me. She's with the doctors doing a preliminary full physical checkup," Coulson said slowly. Clint nodded - SHIELD and all their damn protocols.

"Where are you Coulson? How long is it going to take us to get there?" Clint asked slowly. They head Coulson freeze in place.

"I-I can't tell you," Coulson said stiffly. They both froze.

"What do you mean you can't tell me...?" he asked cautiously. They heard Coulson sigh and run a hand through his perfectly groomed hair. Coulson _never_ messed up his own hair. He was losing it.

"I'm not _allowed_ to tell you," Coulson rephrased with the exhaustion clear in his tone.

"_Why_?" Clint asked carefully. Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Because Antonio Vargaras is dead and she really can't see the person who ended her father's life right now," Coulson said slowly. Clint felt his entire world shatter as Coulson's words ringed in his ear. _Dead_?

"_What_?" Clint asked freezing in place and nearly crashing the entire car into streetlight. Natasha gripped the handle beside her and steeled her eyes as the car gave a harsh jolt.

"Pull over Barton," Natasha ordered quietly. He was breathing rapidly and simply did what she asked. He brought the car to a stop and let go of the steering wheel. He looked down at his hands - they were shaking.

"How do you know if he is dead or not?" Clint asked still in shock.

"Autopsy confirmation came in an hour ago," Coulson said with another heavy sigh. Clint shook his head - that was _impossible_. He didn't take the shot.

"Coulson - Coulson I didn't kill Antonio Vargaras. I wiped his memory. I didn't shoot him," Clint said shakily. He couldn't be dead. If he was dead Alicia was never going to speak to him _again_. They both heard Coulson pause.

"If you didn't kill him - who did?" he asked slowly. Clint and Natasha stared at each other with foreboding eyes.

"There were still guns on the ground Coulson - he could have shot himself…" Natasha said cautiously. She felt Clint freeze beside her once again. They heard Coulson bang his head against a wall and sigh all over again. He was tired of his job.

"You know the only reason I'm inclined to believe you is because I didn't really think you shoot targets in the mouth," Coulson said quietly. Clint shut his eyes and leaned his forehead against the steering wheel. He had only one question left.

"Does _she_ think I killed him?" Clint asked dreading the answer. He heard Coulson stopped breathing for a moment.

"Yes," Coulson said quietly. Natasha tensed as she felt Barton's entire body go slack.

"_Shit_," Clint whispered as he pulled at his hair and just lifelessly collapsed against the steering wheel. He just gave up. He didn't want to fight anymore. Natasha watched her partner slowly start to lose it and quickly picked up the phone.

"Coulson…?" Natasha said cautiously. Coulson sighed solemnly.

"I can't tell her otherwise…because I'm not allowed to see her until the operation is over," he said sombrely shaking his head. She sighed and rubbed her forehead.

"What the hell is the _bad_ news then Coulson?" she asked tiredly. He tensed and stared at the blank wall ahead of him. Right. Bad news.

"You two are staying in Spain for the next 3 weeks for surveillance and round up of all of Vargaras' men. We need to make sure their entire group is dismantled from the top down," he said solemnly. Natasha stared at the phone for several minutes. There was something off about this entire situation.

"Who ordered this mission Coulson?" she asked as she steeled her eyes. He shifted uneasily. She heard the tension as clear as day. She clenched her jaw.

"If it was Fury you know I'm going to _shoot_ him right?" she said warningly. Coulson sighed and shook his head.

"It wasn't Fury," he said quietly. Natasha tensed. Oh now they were playing with the _big_ fish.

"The Council is full of _bastards_ Coulson," she said without remorse. He laughed humourlessly.

"We all work for bastards Romanoff," he said quietly before he hung up.

Natasha stared at the dead beeping line for several minutes before she finally shut the phone.

"They're keeping us in Spain," she told her silent partner who was still staring at the floor with his head resting against the steering wheel. He didn't move a muscle.

"Which means _she's_ not in Spain," he said quietly.

The only thing they ever wanted they couldn't have.

_3 days later. _

Alicia woke up and stared at the white ceiling above her head. She knew she was still at SHIELD because she could hear the familiar shuffle of a busy hall on the other side of the door. She listened to the quiet buzzing of the heart monitor beside her echo around the otherwise silent room.

She was alone.

She shut her eyes and tried to block out all the crazy things that have happened to her over the last few months. After several failed attempts she finally just gave up.

She opened her eyes again and suddenly Phil Coulson was sitting beside her.

She noticed the black rectangular object sitting in his lap instantly.

"Are you here to take my memories away?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," he said simply. There was no reason to lie to her. Alicia stared at her arms – they were finally unmarked and a light olive tan colour. She felt like she hasn't seen her arms in years.

"It would hurt less if I forget them wouldn't it?" she said softly.

"Probably," Coulson said staring at the wall beside her. His expression was deceptively blank but his curt respond made her pause.

"Are you giving me a choice?" she asked slowly. He smiled ruefully at her.

"Yes," he said laying the memory eraser in her lap. Alicia stared at the object for several minutes.

"What is the catch?" she asked slowly. He didn't look surprised – she was a genius after all.

"I'm not doing this with my organization's consent," he said quietly. She froze.

"Why do they want to erase my memory so bad?" she asked carefully. Coulson sighed.

"Don't play dumb Alicia," he said quietly.

"You know I can still remember the codes," she said sadly. He nodded grimly.

"You have a choice Alicia. Life is full of choices. If you want to live your life without any interference from SHIELD or me or any other agent you have to let me erase your memory of the last 8 months. Then no one will ever be after you again Alicia," he said giving her an honest look. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"What if I say no? What if I don't want to forget the last 8 months?" she said softly. Coulson stared at the calm little girl and sighed.

"Why would you want to remember running for your life, nearly being blow up, having people chasing you, having people point guns at your head and nearly dying countless times?" he asked cautiously. He already knew the answer of course.

Alicia was silent.

"It's because of them isn't it?" he asked quietly. She looked away.

"I don't want to forget," she said staring at her hands.

"Agent Barton and agent Romanoff live dangerous lives Alicia. You wouldn't be able to stay here even if I _could_ let you. They are always in danger. They are always running for their lives. You're a smart kid Alicia– you can't grow up in this environment. You need to go to school, you need to make friends, you need to be a _kid_ for the first time in your life. When was the last time you did something fun? Something that wasn't meant to keep you alive for just a bit longer? Something _normal_?" Coulson asked slowly. She winced.

"I played cards a few days ago…?" she tried feebly. Coulson gave her a calculative look and then sighed heavily.

"Do I want to ask with _who_?" he asked rubbing his forehead.

"No," she said quietly.

"Alicia I'm not trying to hurt you," Coulson said pleadingly. She shut her eyes tightly.

"You can't hurt someone who is beyond being broken," she said solemnly. Coulson sighed and stared at the wall beside her bed.

"I have something to tell you," he said vacantly. She didn't look at him.

"I don't think I want to hear it," she said quietly. He shook his head.

"Doesn't matter. You need to know. Agent Barton didn't kill your father," he said staring at her dead in the eye. She stared back at him with an equally intense expression.

"I don't believe you," she said without looking away for a second. Coulson took a deep breath as he continued to stare at her.

"Why not?" he asked carefully. He saw a heavy resignation settle into her eyes.

"Because I don't believe Agent Barton would _ever_ miss his shot," she said simply. Coulson paused – she knew them better then he thought. Up until this point Barton _had_ never missed his target.

"He didn't miss Alicia. He chose not to take it," Coulson said watching the emotions swirl in her eyes.

"I still won't believe you," she said calmly. Too calmly. She really wasn't a normal child. He sighed.

"Why _not_ Alicia? What do you want me to say?" he asked pleadingly. She shook her head.

"Nothing. I don't need you to say anything. Tell him to tell me _himself_," she said heatedly gripping the sheets beside her. Coulson looked away.

"He…he can't right now," Coulson said with a wince. Damn protocols. She tensed.

"Can I see them at all?" she whispered staring at her arms – her tattoo code free arms.

Coulson gave her a sad look. They would all get shot if that happened.

She took his silence for what it was.

_1 week later. _

Clint and Natasha were sitting on a roof with a pair of binoculars sitting in their laps as they watched a group of pathetic men try to grasp at the broken pieces of their brilliant plans. There was nothing they could do without Vargaras. He was the brains. He was the planner.

He was also very _dead_.

"I told you these are the _shit_ missions," she grumbled beside him as they continued to watch their targets. They didn't even have enough brain cells to close their window as they argued about world ending plans.

"Shut up Tasha," he grumbled back. She shook her head in disbelief.

"_This_ is what they consider punishment at your organization? It's pathetic punishment," she said irritably. He sighed beside her as he glanced down at all the moving people walking on the streets below them.

"Does this hurt less than what they did to you in the Red Room?" he asked quietly. She didn't reply. She didn't make a sound.

He got his answer.

"It's still _stupid_ punishment," she muttered finally. He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face.

"Punishment for what Tasha? What did we do wrong?" he asked staring at her with painful eyes. She locked eyes with his and saw all the pain and sorrow his was feeling. He was showing her more than he was supposed to again. She couldn't bring herself to care anymore.

"For loving someone you're not supposed to," she whispered looking away from his painful gaze.

**A/N: Just keep breathing! You'll see what they do in the next chapter. They didn't give up on her. **


	20. Chapter 20

**I dare you **

**A/N: You'll like it…eh at the end. Trust me. **

**Chapter 20 **

_2 weeks later while still on surveillance assignment. _

Clint and Coulson were walking down a hall in the temporary SHIELD base stationed in Spain while they kept watch of the terrorist movement in the area and made sure it died down properly.

However nobody gave a _shit_ about terrorists at the moment.

"20 _minutes_ Coulson – just give us 20 minutes damn it!" Clint shouted at the silent man walking ahead of him.

"Not yet – she can't see you yet," Coulson said without turning around.

"Why the hell not?" Clint growled. Coulson sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"Because you are not healthy for her Barton!" Coulson said finally losing some of his calm exterior.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Clint growled.

"Can you take care of a 9 year old child Barton? Can you really? Do you know what a girl with that much trauma and psychological damage needs? Do you think you can protect her from the number of enemies you have? The number enemies SHIELD has?" Coulson asked furiously.

"We're not going to adopt her or something Coulson! We're not stupid!" Clint shouted. Coulson tensed and narrowed his eyes.

"No you are _very_ stupid. You two want things you are not supposed to want. You chose lives that have restrictions Barton. You have to learn to live with your god damn decisions!" Coulson said angrily. Clint clenched his fists as his sides.

"_Shut up_ Coulson. Don't you dare think for a second either of us chose this. We didn't have a choice. No one gave Natasha a choice when she was forced to be a god damn child soldier! No one gave me a choice to when I had to join a fucking drug trafficking cartel disguised as a circus to stay off the streets! No one chooses _this_," Clint shouted gesturing around him. Coulson sighed and gave him a regretful look.

"But you can't walk away either Clint – it just doesn't work like that," Coulson said looking away from Clint's lost expression.

"We just want to _see_ her," Clint whispered.

"You can see her – she is just not allowed to see you," Coulson said quietly. Clint tensed and suddenly narrowed his eyes.

"You're not calling the shots are you?" Clint asked cautiously. Coulson glanced at him and then up at camera aimed at them from the corner of the hall.

"Go back to your surveillance mission Barton. Drag Romanoff's ass out of the shooting range and go back to your post," Coulson said before he turned around and walked away. There were a lot of agendas at SHIELD. They may be the good guys but they weren't perfect. He was already walking on thin ice trying to hide what he did for her.

_3 weeks later. _

Alicia Vargaras stood alone in the rain staring at a pair of tombstones with a lost look on her face. They had finally found her mother withering away in a hospital in the middle of nowhere after she had drowned herself in alcohol. They wouldn't tell her any of the details because she was considered too young. Nobody would tell her anything about how her father died in his prison cell all those nights ago either.

She knew what Coulson said – but she meant what she said too. She wasn't going to believe him until they told her _themselves_. Speculations were all over the news the days following her father's radical death sprouting things like ex-intelligence agents, hired assassins and terrorist plots all thrown in to blow up the story to extreme proportions. Pictures of the suspected assassinators were never released to the public because hours after they fled the scene all trace of their faces on the system had suspicious disappeared or were destroyed VIA a brutal virus. SHIELD knew how to clean up a post-mission mess with expert efficiency.

Alicia looked around and wondered where Coulson was hiding – he always gave her privacy when she wanted it – but she didn't believe for a second that he wasn't keeping an eye on her. He was always keeping an eye on her ever since he let her keep her memories. She wanted to hate him. She really did. But she couldn't. Because what he did for her was beyond stupid – it was _dangerous_. He let her keep her memories of Natasha and Clint – but that also meant she still knew the nuclear codes. Keeping her memories meant she would be a target for the rest of her life.

But she didn't care.

Alicia took a shaky breath as she continued to stare at the dark stone.

"I should hate you dad," she whispered brokenly. She wrapped her arm around herself and tightly shut her eyes. She couldn't bear to look at the tombstone for much longer. He did this to her. He is the one who gave her the knowledge – knowledge that had the power to kill thousands.

"You were a bad _person_," she said breathing in a painful breath. She would never doubt that. Not after everything he did.

"But…how am I supposed to hate you when you're dead?" she whispered finally letting a tear fall. He didn't deserve her tears. She knew he was in so deep that there was no way he wouldn't end up dead in the end. She just…she just wished she didn't know the faces of her father's murderers. She wished she didn't know who they were. Because it hurt so much more that she knew them. That they saved her life – but took his.

She froze as she felt someone brush past her from behind and keep walking. She was going to just ignore them and continue to stare emptily at her father's grave when she suddenly realized her pocket suddenly felt heavier than usual. She glanced down and saw a small note sticking out of her large red sweater pocket. She pulled it out with careful hands and slowly opened it to read what it said.

She nearly stopped breathing.

'_We didn't kill your father Alicia,' _were the only words written across the small scrap of paper. Her eyes fell. So he _had_ taken his own life.

Alicia's eyes suddenly shot up to stare at the two soaked figures walking silently beside each other with what looked like the entire world resting on their shoulders. Both were stiff and seemed like they were intricately draw to each other but with invisible barriers so strong they always stayed several inches apart. The darkness that surrounded them was tangible and nearly suffocating. There was no redemption for people like them – but if one little girl knew the truth then maybe they could sleep just a bit easier.

They were living, breathing contradictions of everything they stood for and everything they did not.

Alicia didn't know if she should call out to them or just let them walk away. She didn't know if they wanted her around anymore. She glanced down at the little piece of paper. 6 little words. She took a deep breath.

It wasn't enough.

"Wait! Don't leave yet!" she called out as she dashed through the rain after them. The two silent assassins stopped walking as they heard the voice call out from behind them. Clint was the first to turn around and instantly got knocked to the ground by the speeding 9 year old. He hit the wet ground with a light _thump_ and suddenly had a little girl with tears streaming down her face beating her small fists on his chest.

"Why did you guys leave? Why did you never come back? Why did you leave me all alone?" Alicia shouted as she continued to hit him with all her might. Clint just wrapped his arms around her shaking body and held her tightly as she took her anger out on him.

"I'm sorry," Clint whispered into her hair. Alicia trembled in his arms as she continued to hit him.

"Why did I have to wake up all by myself after my surgery? How could you break all your promises?" she shouted as the tears continued to fall on her red cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Clint whispered again.

"My dad shot himself and my mom drowned herself and I was all alone!" she shouted at him.

"I'm sorry," Clint repeated softly as he held her tighter. Alicia finally felt the fight leave her body and couldn't hold herself up anymore.

"Why did both my parents have to die?" she whispered as she collapsed to her knees and sobbed into his chest. Clint didn't have anything left to say. He looked over her shoulder and locked eyes with his solemn looking partner who slowly fell to her knees behind the sobbing child.

"We're so sorry Alicia," Natasha said softly as she slowly ran her hand through the little girl's short hair. Alicia angrily shook her head.

"It's not fair! How could you just ignore me? How could- how could you fall into my life, be so nice to me and just walk away? Don't - Don't you care?" she whispered finally running out of her anger and just falling against Clint's warm chest. He winced as every word she said was like a fatal blow to his heart.

"We care Alicia. We always cared," he whispered tightening his hold on her.

"Why did you avoid me?" she whispered trying to stop the tears that were soaking his already drenched shirt. She _knew_ why - she just wished they tried anyway.

"We…we didn't exactly have a choice Alicia," he said sadly. She took a shaky breath and pulled back to stare at him with the tears still not stopping.

"I'm leaving _tomorrow_," she said brokenly. They both winced. They knew she was being relocated the same day their mission in Spain was over. A note had shown up hidden in between their mission updates this morning with a location and 5 simple words.

_20 minutes – make it count. _

"We know," he said softly. She angrily wiped the tears from her face as she stared as his equally moist eyes. She tore her eyes away from his too blue ones and stared at Natasha kneeling beside them.

"You're not supposed to be here are you?" she whispered. Natasha gave the trembling kid a sad smile.

"No," she said softly. Alicia shut her eyes and tried to hold back another round of tears.

"I don't know even where I am _going_," she said miserably. Natasha reached out and placed a comforting hand on her back. She leaned over her shoulder and brushed her short hair to one side.

"We'll find you," Natasha whispered softly in her ear.

It was their specialty to find people that weren't meant to be found.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Bittersweet I know. They have a job to do and they can't just walk away to take care of a kid. They really can't. But seriously – do you really think they can't find her even if they let her go right now? ;) I promise not to kick Alicia out of the story. But it's going to be realistic. They are going to be one weird assassin family. You guys are going to love the next chapter. **


	21. Chapter 21

**I dare you **

**A/N: You'll love it. Trust me. If you lived through all that angst you will cry in happiness today. Finally. **

**Chapter 21 **

Clint and Natasha were finally back in New York inhabiting in the small apartment SHIELD gave them to use during off time. They _rarely_ used it. There really was no point in each of them having separate empty flats so they just shared one for convenience sake. Clint stopped making lewd comments about how they were once in a while roommates – the last time he tried that she really did nearly castrate him with her sharp knives.

Currently Natasha was lying on her bed staring up at the ceiling with a blank look on her face. She wasn't deflecting – she just didn't have it in her to feel anything right now. Too much happened, too fast with too many people involved.

She heard the quiet creak of the floorboard but didn't move a muscle. He did stuff like that on purpose. Probably to save his own ass so that she wouldn't end up killing him the next time he snuck up on her. He learned the first time around with a sharp scar on his neck as proof and a really good reminder. She knew he was there before he even spoke.

"Hey Tasha," he said quietly leaning against the door frame. She didn't remove her eyes from the ceiling as she continued to think. She heard the question on his tongue before he even uttered a word.

"If you dare ask me how I am doing I will _castrate_ you," she said right off the bat. Clint grimaced and gave her a weary look. She made good on her threats.

"You have a weird obsession with cutting off body parts," he said instead while giving her a long look. She promptly gave him the finger.

"No – it's just you," she said simply. He coughed into his hand – she was so straightforward sometimes it hurt his pride just a _tiny_ bit.

"Lucky me?" he said rolled his eyes. She simply snorted and refused to continue the conversation. He watched her continue her intense staring contest with the ceiling before he walked over and sat down beside her.

"Let's hack the SHIELD database Tasha," he said quietly. She didn't even blink.

"No," she said simply. He sighed – probably a bad idea.

"Let's trace her then," he tried again. She shook her head.

"No," she said calmly. He scowled and ran a hand through his hair.

"Let's _beat_ _up_ Coulson until he tells us then!" he said running out of ideas and falling onto the bed beside her. She finally tore her eyes away from the ceiling and gave him a look of disbelief.

"No!" she exclaimed. Was he insane? Did he have a death wish or something? He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face as they lied next to each other.

"Tasha - Tasha don't you want to know where she _is_?" he asked sadly. He felt her shift uneasily beside him.

"Yes," she said quietly. He paused as he took in her curt responses. Oh she was a beast _indeed_.

"What did he say? What did the calm bastard say?" he asked narrowing his eyes. She sighed – he was so _slow_ sometimes.

"He told us to chill out for 2 weeks and that he'll point us in the right direction," she said quietly. Clint paused as he took that information in.

"Why 2 weeks?" he asked slowly. She glanced at him warily and then went right back to her staring contest.

"So she could settle in wherever she is," she said with a shrug. Clint watched her carefully – trying to see if she was lying to him. But then why would she?

"And you agree with him," he said slowly.

"Yes," she said simply. He stared at her for a minute before he promptly flipped himself over and suffocated himself against her pillow.

"Damn it!" he grumbled like a little kid. She rolled her eyes at his childishness.

"You're impatient Barton," she said with a snort. He lifted his head off the pillow that smelled faintly like her and scowled at the Russian beast.

"_Yes_. Yes I am an impatient man - deal with it!" he said arrogantly. She shot him a burning glare that made him freeze and suddenly plaster a big fat fake smile on his face.

"Ah but I'm cute and adorable too?" he said feebly. She stared at him for several seconds.

_Click_.

He glanced down at the gun aimed at his family jewels. _Well_.

"Get off my bed you insane bastard," she ordered with a straight-face. He tried to gauge how serious she was when she promptly fired a warning shot that barely missed his head. He quickly ducked and scowled at her.

"OI! Those things _kill_ people!" he said irritably. She gave him a dry look.

"Thanks for letting me know - I didn't notice," she said sarcastically. He suddenly got a weird look on his face that made her want to shoot him all over again.

"Tasha. Tasha let's be normal for once…" he said quietly. She gave him a wary look and slowly placed the gun between them.

"We are the _farthest_ thing from normal," she said with a snort. He shook his head as he picked up the gun and literally _threw_ it out of her room. They both heard it hit the wall and fire a shot into the ceiling above their heads. They both froze as pieces of plaster floated to the ground beside them. He knew he was getting _the_ _death_ _stare_.

"You call _this_ normal?" she said shooting him a dirty look. He just stared at the unintended bullet hole in her ceiling in shock. Well _that_ was a bad start.

"Sorry I _will_ fix that," he said sheepishly. She sighed and shook her head. Child.

"What do you want Barton?" she asked quietly. She could feel his eyes on her but didn't take her eyes off the new bullet hole she had to stare at. Maybe it wasn't _that_ bad of an addition to her ceiling.

"Tasha…we're friends right?" he asked hesitantly. She paused but didn't look at him.

"I don't _do_ friends Barton…" she said carefully. He gave her a searching look.

"Don't do friends or don't _have_ friends?" he asked softly. He felt her tense beside him.

"_Can't_ have friends. You can't have friends in this job," she said shaking her head. It was fact she had come to accept like many other things in her screwed up life. His gaze on her never wavered.

"We can be friends," he said quietly. She would have laugh in his face if there wasn't something off in his voice. She would have called him a bunch of names and kicked him out of her room for being an annoying bastard. She would have done one of the several standard things she usually does to him with he gets on her nerves.

But he meant it. And she didn't know exactly what to say.

"Coworkers can't be friend Barton," she said with a sigh. He shook his head.

"We're more than coworkers Tasha. Way more," he said softly. She tensed.

"_Why_ do you want to be my friend Barton?" she asked pinching the bridge of her nose. He always came up with the most _ridiculous_ conversation topics. The worst part was that he always managed to rope her into them.

"Cause I never had one?" he said hesitantly. _Not a real one._ He left unsaid. She paused.

"Really?" she asked giving him a searching look. He stared back at her with honest eyes.

"Yeah," he said softly. She promptly looked away and didn't say anything for several minutes. His eyes fell. She wasn't going to buy it.

"Well…I never had one either so _this_ is going to be a great start," she said with snort. He froze and nearly fell flat on his face.

"Wait! Wait! Wait! So that means we're friends?" he asked excitedly. He was like a god damn _puppy_. She gave his excitement a wary look. He was shaking the _whole _damn bed!

"Barton. _Calm down_ before you piss yourself – _especially_ on my bed," she said warningly as she nearly fell off because of the vibrations.

"You don't even _sleep_ on your bed!" he said with the gigantic smile still on his face. She scowled at him.

"Still my bed!" she grumbled. He continued smiling for several minutes. She sighed and went back to staring at her ceiling. Not like much has happened anyway.

"So we're friends?" he asked again with the same level of excitement. Natasha groaned.

"YES!" she shouted before she shoved a pillow in his face so that she could block out the blinding smile. He fell onto the bed beside her and laughed against the pillow. She didn't understand where all this damn happiness was _coming_ from!

"Are you sure?" he asked his voice still muffled by the pillow. Her eye twitched.

"I will strangle you if you ask one more time Barton," she said threateningly. She could practically _feel_ his grin. It was pissing her off. His damn cheerfulness was pissing her off damn it!

"Tell me! Tell me!" he said throwing the pillow off his face. She stared at him in disbelief.

"Tell you _what_?" she asked incredulously. He propped his head in his right head and stared at her.

"Tell me you're my friend," he said with a shit-eating grin on his face. She was going to _shoot_ herself.

"Will you _shut up_ if I do that?" she asked cautiously. His face suddenly went blank and he took a deep breath.

"Yes," he said finally calming down and just watching her. She blinked. Now she had to guess if the calm face was real or the insane excitement from a second ago.

She had a feeling the damn crazy grins were more real. She humored him anyway.

"I'm…I'm your friend Clint Barton," she said slowly. He smiled softly.

"Thank you," he whispered.

She really didn't know what he was thanking her for. She didn't _do_ anything.

They stared at each other for several minutes before he had to open his mouth and ruin the moment.

"Wanna do something fun, completely stupid and definitely _not_ work related Tasha?" he asked with a devious look on his face. She gave him a dry look.

"_No_," she said promptly shooting him down. He simply continued to grin at her.

"Too damn bad – let's get drunk!" he said with the big shit-eating grin back on his face. Natasha groaned and placed her head in her hands.

"Is _that_ what friends do?" she asked in a pained voice. He flashed her a boyish grin.

"I have _no_ idea! Let's figure it out!" he said with a laugh.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: The fluff…it is Sickeningly SWEET. But I thought after all that angst why not just give it to you guys? Some nice epic fluff. **

**The next chapter is going to be funny as hell. I love humor! **


	22. Chapter 22

**I dare you **

**A/N: I am making up for all that angst guys! Also just to let you know I DO have a life outside of writing it's just I sort of wrote these last 4 chapters at once and just broke them up into manageable chapters. A 10,000 word chapter would be insane. LOL Not that I haven't done it before but…meh. **

**You are really, really, really going to like this if you wanted some humor. **

**Chapter 22**

They argued about where they were going to get drunk and what they were going to get drunk on for nearly 20 minutes. They finally decided Barton would choose the damn bar and she would have the honour of picking the deadly drink.

30 minutes later they were sitting in a relatively noisy bar at the edge of New York where people didn't give two shits who you were and you could blend in without anyone asking too many questions.

For a second Natasha thinks he chose a less flashy bar just for her sake.

She would kill him if she ever found out that was true.

In the meantime she was going to drink him under the table. Natasha promptly slammed a 1 liter bottle of murky dubious liquid in front of him with a very evil look in her eyes. Oh dear god she was going to kill him.

"What is _that_...?" Clint asked suspiciously. He had an idea but he was hoping she would prove him wrong.

"_This _Barton - is the sweet nectar of mother Russia," she said with the smirk still plastered across her face.

"Stop talking like a Russian mafia member," he scowled at her. She rolled her eyes.

"I know what Russian mafia sounds like Barton - it's a lot less understandable," she said dryly. He shook his head in disbelief.

"What _is _it woman?" he groaned. Her smirk deepened. He really didn't like these crazy looks on her face.

"It's _vodka_," she said with a shrug. His eyes widened.

"That don't look like _Vodka_!" he exclaimed in horror. She had this evil glint in her eyes that told him tonight wasn't going to end well for him.

"It's Russian Vodka - 95% strong," she said simply. His mouth hit the floor.

"Are you _crazy_?" he shouted in disbelief. She chuckled darkly.

"What - can't handle your liquor Barton?" she asked with a cocked eyebrow. He narrowed his eyes - sneaky minx.

"Bring it on Red," he said daringly. She glared at him instantly.

"Don't call me _Red_," she growled slamming two empty shot glasses in front of him.

"Mmmhmm _whatever _Tasha," he said as he poured a full shot for both of them. She raised an eyebrow.

"You _really _want to start off with a full shot?" she asked warily. Clint scoffed.

"I can handle a few shots Tasha!" he exclaimed sounding highly insulted. She snorted and picked up her glass and took a seat at their corner of the bar.

"Sit down Barton and preferably lean on the counter," she instructed calmly. His eye twitched - she was _patronizing _him.

"I am not a lightweight little girl!" he growled irritably. She gave him one of her mysterious smiles.

"Good. Be prepared to get beat by one who can drink all your asses under the table," she said simply. He narrowed his eyes and held out his shot. She raised an eyebrow and held hers up as well.

"3,2,1 - bottoms up!" he said as they both threw back the insanely potent drink at the same time. Natasha drowned the baby shot easily and slammed the glass down onto the table. She took one look at Clint's unease face and knew she won before they had even started.

She blinked and then he had disappeared from sight. She heard the crash before she look down to the ground and saw her partner sprawled across the floor. He was out _cold_. He was also going to wake up with a massive bruise on his head. She _told _him to lean on the counter. Natasha poured herself another shot and sipped her toxic chemical in silent glee.

"I win," she said to herself with an evil smirk.

She sat around and drank the rest of the damn bottle as she scanned the room for any suspicious figures and wondered when Barton was going to decide to grace the living with his annoying presence once more.

"_Tasha_..." she heard a pathetic croak from below and snorted into her cup. She glanced at the empty bottle and signaled for the bartender. He came over and raised an eyebrow - she had finished that in 5 minutes flat. She simply shrugged.

"My friend can't handle his liquor - but I'd like another bottle please," Natasha asked the handsome bartender rather nicely - she was still reeling from winning the drinking contest. He gave her an appreciative look followed by flirtatious smile. Once upon a time Natasha used to take men like him home for one night. But now she worked in a job that required a bit more secrecy - especially if she wanted to keep it. Also she shared the only apartment she owned in this city with the man lying on the floor so that was out of the question.

"Taken," she lied easily. He raised an eyebrow and glanced down at the mess of brown hair still lying on the ground beside her. Oh she got it. Well she might as well play up his false misinterpretations.

"Surprising isn't it?" she said with another one of her mysterious smiles. He slowly shook his head.

"Not really. You seem to have known each other for a long time," he said wisely. She chuckled with a slight dark edge that instantly disappeared when he glanced at her curiously. She gave him a disarming smile to throw him off.

"Not even close. We've just been to hell and back together more times than I can count," she said simply. He raised an eyebrow as he pulled out another one of her killer vodka bottles and handed it to her.

"Men who are not afraid to stick around when things go to shit are worth keeping around when life is not so bad," he said with a friendly smile. He was backing off nicely - but his words made her pause as she honestly considered the weight in them.

"Yeah he _is_ worth keeping around," she finally said truthfully. The bartender gave her a quizzing look as a hundred different missions flash across her eyes.

"Are you two soldiers or something?" he asked curiously. She raised an eyebrow as she took another sip of her drink. She didn't feel a buzz. Not a thing. Damn repressor serum. Damn her Red Room handlers. She was going to kill them all one day.

"Something like that," she said vaguely. She heard a groan and smirked slightly. The bartender shook his head - they were one of _those_ couples.

"_Tasha...you beast...it hurts_..." a familiar voice grumbled as a bed of messy brown hair bumped against her leg. She snorted into her cup again and placed it onto the table before glancing up at the bartender.

"Got any painkillers?" she asked tilting her head to the side. He raised an eyebrow and nodded before he walked away to go grab them. She was a weird girl - but apparently she looked after her man very well. Even if she seemed to do it in a roundabout way.

She glanced down at the floor and found blue eyes staring up at her with curiosity swirling in them. He was leaning against her leg and definitely not in as much pain as he was pretending to be in a moment ago. She sent the bartender away for a reason.

"You lied," he said simply. She rolled her eyes and quickly crossed her legs causing his head to crash into the ground.

"UGH! _TASHA_!" he groaned in true pain this time. She really was a beast. He was glad she stuck around anyway.

"It's our job to be liars Barton," she repeated the same words he told her in anger all those months ago in SHIELD medical back when she didn't trust him _one bit_ not to shoot her, let alone use his damn weapons to watch her back.

"We're not working right now," he shot back as he leaned against her leg _again_. He just never learned. And yet she found herself finally, _finally_ feeling like she didn't have to keep running anymore.

Because she didn't trust Clint Barton to not be a bastard or to stop pissing her off or even to make a good damn dinner choice. He made _shit_ personal decisions and she always double checked his reckless in the moment missions related decisions based on her own instincts.

But she trusted him not to leave. She trusted him to pull her ass out of the fire when no one else would.

That was enough.

"He bought it," Clint said quietly when she didn't respond.

"I'm a good liar," she said simply. He remained silent. She could feel him thinking against her leg as she picked up her drink and took another sip. She should be dead drunk by now. She was already almost done the second bottle. She looked exactly the same as always - cold and sober. Clint always wondered what she meant by the honest fact that she could drink them all under the table. So she chose today to show him.

"Repressors?" he whispered softly against her skin. She felt the sadness in his warm breath and stared at the people dancing on the dance floor with a calm uninterested look.

"Not a bad thing sometimes," she said blankly. She wasn't trying to make him feel better. It was just the truth. He shouldn't feel sad when she didn't. The Red Room put her through a lot of shit - but it wasn't all bad. She could still feel him thinking again - he was going to fuse his damn brain cells with all that junk that he worries about in his head. They already had enough shit to worry about that was usually in their face during missions.

"Is this why you said you throw vodka bottles at walls instead of drinking it to get rid of your anger?" he said quietly. She paused as she recalled that conversation from the train.

Oh _that_ was an interesting day.

"You didn't forget," she said simply. He shrugged against her leg as he continued to stare up at her with slightly wary eyes. She always made him a little worried.

"I never forget," he said frankly. _I just pretend to sometimes_. He left unsaid. She caught it anyways.

"I don't either," she said placing her elbows on the table and staring down at him with her serious green eyes. She could see emotions swirling in his that he wasn't showing her. That was okay - she never showed much anyway.

"You're wearing a pretty red dress," he said suddenly. She paused and considered why he said that all of a sudden. She then tensed - _dirty bastard._

"Barton you disgusting ex-military dog if you looked up my skirt I will kick your ass to Spain all over again," she growled quietly glaring at him as he blinked innocently up at her.

She continued to burn a hole into his soul with her fiery glare. He couldn't keep up the innocent look - he mostly just didn't want to.

So he smirked and he knew she was going to kill him tonight once they got out of this bar. So he just sealed the deal with something better than a kiss - an assassin fury inducing cherry on top.

"I think red lingerie is _sexy_," he said suggestively. He was dead before the words even left his mouth.

Natasha scowled at him and promptly kicked him in the head with her killer red heels. He groaned as he banged his head into the bar wall and collapsed into a puddle of a broken man. But he was still grinning with his face plastered to the ground.

He hadn't looked up her dress at all. He had _guessed_.

"Tasha. Tasha. Tasha," he said with the accomplishment in his voice. He had finally gotten one over her!

She didn't let him enjoy it for very long.

"Yeah I know you didn't see nothing Barton because I'm wearing black lingerie," she said with a straight face as she picked up her drink and took a bored sip. Clint died a little inside. It was not _fair_.

"Tasha one day you're going to break my self-esteem," he pouted as he turned to look up at her again. She propped her head in her left hand and glanced down at his sorry ass with the bored look still on her face.

"What self-esteem? I thought I shot that thing the day we met?" she said frankly. He clutched his heart theatrically.

"Oh Tasha! You killed me!" he said dramatically.

"There are worse things than death Barton," she said simply. He ignored the real truth behind her playful words and continued to pout.

"Like what?" he said with a huff. She put down her cup and stared down at him with a serious look - the one she used when she was anything but serious.

"Listening to your annoying voice all day, every day until I can't stand it anymore and want to shoot myself," she said honestly. His mouth hit the floor - literally. He was already touching the floor. It was official. He had died from her cut throat words.

However the longer she continued to stare at him the faster he was starting to notice that weird feelings stir at the pit of his stomach and felt the blood rush to his face before he could stop it - he didn't try to stop it though. He tried not to put up walls when it was just them. Even if she couldn't do the same.

_10 seconds later. _

He wish he had stopped the madness before this started.

"You're blushing Barton," she said simply. He scowled at her and looked away from her intense gaze. Beast was doing it to him _again_! Damn hormones.

"Blame the alcohol," he muttered irritably. She rolled her eyes.

"You're not _that_ drunk," she said with a snort.

"Maybe I am," he whispered. She gave him a quizzing look.

"No you're not," she said confidently. He was about to defend his honor when he felt her freeze in place as she stared across the bar.

She silently tapped his head with her foot telling him to go back to being a pain in the ass whining bastard who couldn't handle his liquor to save him god damn life.

"_Tasha..._" the whine was back. The _exact_ one that got on her nerves. Natasha sighed irritably as the bartender came back right on cue.

"Painkillers?" he said sympathetically handing her a couple of red pills. She smiled at him.

"Thank you. They're for me, not for him. His whining is giving _me_ a headache," she said taking the pills from his hand. He raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. That didn't mean Clint wouldn't.

"_Boyfriend cruelty..."_ Clint muttered from the ground. Natasha simply smirked.

"Not many people _survive_ being my boyfriend," she said with the damn mysterious smile back on her face.

Both bartender and the Clint froze for different reasons.

The bartender simply thought she was psychotic - he was probably right.

Clint thought she was just going to _murder_ him the second they were alone. He was probably right too.

"I _think_ I'm going to go use the washroom now," Clint squeaked as he jumped to his feet and made a hasty exit out of the situation. Natasha actually laughed as she watched him run away. She hasn't laughed honesty in _years._

"Honey...your boyfriend is deadly afraid of you," the bartender said in shock. Natasha nodded with a smirk.

"You have _no_ idea," she said picking up her drink once more.

10 minutes later the coward was still hiding in the washroom. That or he had passed out. Natasha rolled her eyes and was about to get up and check with she felt a rather uninvited presence behind her.

"Hey beautiful - wanna dance?" she heard someone slur in her ear. She sighed - this was partly why she didn't frequent bars outside of assignments. She didn't have to deal with the _trash_.

"Not even in your dreams tough guy," she said turning around to face a large ugly mammoth of a man. He blinked in surprise.

She just continued to stare at him expectantly.

"Aw come on you know you want a big strong man to sweep you off your feet hot stuff," he leered at her.

She snorted and held up a finger in his confused face.

"First of all strength has nothing to do with size. Second of all I don't need a man to sweep me off my feet I'd more likely want to wipe the floor with his stupid ass. And thirdly - don't you _dare_ call me hot stuff," she said calmly but with a dangerous undertone.

However before she could easily beat the shit out of the large beast his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he collapsed to the floor. She stared at the unconscious man for a few seconds before glancing up at her calm partner who had a lazy look on his face and his hands suspiciously in his pockets.

He didn't fool shit.

"Did you just taser him?" Natasha asked slowly. He shook his head lightly.

"Nope - learned Tai Chi pressure points during a long term assignment in northern China. Worst 6 months of my life - learn some really cool hand to hand combat moves though," he said with only a slight slur in his words. When the heck did he get that drunk? Now she wondered what he did for 10 minutes.

She couldn't leave him alone for a _second_!

"You never cease to amaze me Barton," she said shaking her head in disbelief and turning around to walk back to her corner of the bar.

She suddenly felt someone leaned over her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her slim waist before he dragged her body flush against his until she could feel every single part of him burning her through her dress.

If he was anyone else she would have cut his throat. _10 seconds ago_. Dead. He was extremely lucky to be who he was.

"Really?" he breathed against her ear. She didn't react at all and simply continued her little rant.

"Yeah - by the sheer stupidity that you can manage to bottle up in your lightweight body you _idiot_," she said with a snort. His playful seduction skills were hopelessly ignored. He pouted as he buried his face into her neck.

"You're mean Tasha," he mumbled against her skin.

"You're an emotional drunk," she said with a sigh as she started walking back towards her spot at the bar with a pouting Clint Barton trailing behind her.

They both knew he was not really _that _drunk.

**A/N: Not a bad time to finally start a friendship eh? **

_**Dare: I dare you to drink me under the table – but you never will because I can't get drunk. Fail. **_

**PS. SOB* I won't update tomorrow sorry guys! That darn physics Exam I told someone of you about? Yeah it's Tuesday. See you all probably Wednesday earliest. I'll miss you guys! Ha ha so 4 chapters in a day makes up for a few days off right? **

**Bye for now! Leave me a review letting me know what you liked most about the story so far and what you would like to see more of NEXT! **

**Humor? Action? ****Friendship? ****Angst? Suspense? Missions? Alicia? Dares? Clintasha fights? Sparing? Ninja assassin kick butt? Flirting? Anything I missed? **


	23. Chapter 23

**I dare you **

**A/N: One of the reasons they can never quit their field job at SHIELD…they would go stir crazy sitting around doing nothing for too long. Literally drive each other up a wall. **

**Chapter 23 **

It was now 1 week after they came back from Spain and another week before Coulson would even _consider_ telling them where Alicia was. The bastard was annoyingly firm in his resolve.

In the meantime Clint Barton was literally losing his mind.

"Tasha I can't take it anymore! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !" Clint shouted viciously throwing his pen down on the desk in front of him in utter _frustration_. The damn paperwork never ends! It just never stops growing! It was driving him insane!

_BANG_!

He froze as he suddenly found a knife emended in his desk a second later. _Right_ between his fingers. He gulped.

"_Some_ people want to get out of here before they get grey hair and die of old age Barton," someone said dangerously from behind him. He laughed uneasily and leaned forward to remove the knife stuck in his desk.

"I thought Russians don't get grey hair Tasha," he said nervously as he slowly spun around in his rolly chair. He immediately got a face full of deadly Russian assassin who was edgy from being coped up in the SHIELD base for too damn long. _Damn_ she was scary when she was cranky. She was also _way_ too close. He shifted hesitantly in front of her.

"Tasha…can you move back a bit?" he said awkwardly rubbing the back of his head. She narrowed her eyes inches from his face. He feared for the life of his nose.

"Blow my eardrums like that again and I will skin you _alive_," she growled before she finally stepped out of his personal space and stalked back to her own desk. He sighed in relief as he collapsed against his chair.

Damn the only times the woman voluntarily comes into his personal space are the times when he wants to run away from her. The times he doesn't mind her being there she stalks away. It was unbelievable!

"But Tasha I'm going crazy while staring at these words all day long!" he complained as he banged his head against his desk. He heard her scoff from beside him.

"And you think _I'm_ not?" she said irritably collapsing into her seat a few feet away from him and angrily picking up her own forgotten pen. He turned his head to lay his cheek against the desk while facing her and watched her furiously scribble away beside him. He was _sick_ of paperwork. He would rather poke the beast with an imaginary stick to see what amusing reaction he could get out of it. For his own sick enjoyment of course. He pushed himself away from his desk and promptly walked over to hers. He leaned over her chair and gently rested his chin against her shoulder. She instantly tensed but didn't stop writing. She was truly a single-minded person. He could change that. He made an art out of annoying Natasha Romanoff.

"Whatcha doing partner?" he asked innocently. He felt her twitch. He could tell she was close to breaking his face. Oh this was going to be fun.

"I will _stab_ you with this pen if you do not remove yourself from my person _right now_ Barton," she said threateningly as he breathed warm air against her cheek. He felt her instantly go rigidly beneath him. He just _loved_ messing with her. Even more now than before because she was no longer on edge as if she thought he going to kill her in her sleep or something. Those kinds of thoughts sort of put a damper on their initial relationship.

_Now_ she knew he just annoyed the shit out of her simply because he could. Bastard.

"_Boo_ - you're so scary," he whispered in her ear. Natasha's eyes steeled – she had cracked. The next thing he knew he was being slammed into the ground on his back and the air completely knocked out of him. He gasped as he tried to regain his lost breath and stared up at an equally out of breath Russian looming over him with dangerous eyes. She had two fist fulls of his shirt and was glaring at him - daring him to say something _utterly _stupid and piss her off even more.

They stared at each other for several tense seconds completely forgetting where they were for a moment until they were kindly reminded.

"Um…you guys know this is an office room right?" one of senior agents said walking into the paperwork area and staring at the battle between partners happening in the corner while a herd of junior agents peeked over their walls to watch. They kept their distance for a reason – smart newbies.

Natasha tensed as she heard the agent speak from behind her as she continued to glare at her absolutely infuriating partner. He simply stared up at her with a very sudden suspiciously calm expression. She clenched her fists - he was doing it _again_.

"A bit tense aren't you Tasha?" he said calmly while staring up at her storming eyes as he rested his hands on her killer thighs. He wasn't trying to rile her up. Not really. He was just trying to show her she was stressing herself out for no reason to the point she was going to lash out at people. He pressed the right buttons and proved his theory right. However most people aren't stupid enough to try the things he does. He knew she got the message when she clenched her jaw and gripped his shirt tighter.

"Don't try to analyze me like a damn puzzle Barton. I don't work like that," she said stiffly. He shrugged underneath her deadly grip. He could have disabled her if he wanted to – but only if he wanted a few painful bruises for his efforts as well.

"I'm right though," he said simply. She growled and instantly let him go before she shot to her feet and stalked out of the room. He quickly rolled over and pushed himself off the ground before he followed after her. 1 step forward and 2 steps back was how their relationship seemed to work.

"You aren't handling being grounded on base for a few days very well Tasha," he said quietly as he trailed behind her while she stomped down the hall. He already knew where she was going.

"Stop following me Barton," she muttered as she rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight for a second before he turned the corner as well. He glanced up and she was already 20 paces ahead of him.

_Damn_ she was fast. Well there were only a handful of things he knew that would stop her – short of shooting at her only one of them he could use right now.

"I know you spar by yourself in the training rooms at 3 am!" he called after her retreating form. She froze and completely stopped moving. She spun around to stare in him accusingly.

"How the _fuck_ do you know that?" she shouted angrily. He gave her a knowing look as he easily caught up to her.

"I can hear you while I'm practicing my aim in the shooting range down the hall around the same time," he said quietly as he stopped in front her fuming form. She was restless. She had been for the past few days. He could feel it from a mile away.

"I'm not _that_ loud," she muttered irritably. He smiled ruefully at her.

"No – but I was paying attention for the right cues that told me all I needed to know," he said with a shrug. She gave him a calculative look.

"Barton you spend unhealthy amounts of time following me around," she grumbled irritably. He rolled his eyes.

"Tasha we spend unhealthy amounts of time together in general," he said with a snort. She scowled at him.

"Don't you have better things to do then unnecessarily worry over me?" she growled giving him an annoyed look. He shrugged as he leaned his shoulder against the wall beside her.

"Not really – and it's not unfounded based on how you are acting," he said simply. She tensed beside him.

"Barton…" she said warningly. He ignored the warning entirely.

"Want to go a few rounds?" he asked suddenly. He watched her glare lose some of its ferocity as it was replaced with a slightly wary look.

"I don't know if that is such a good idea," she said carefully as she shifted away from him. He raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"Why not? Afraid you're going to hurt me Tasha?" he asked with a light laugh. She shot him a dirty look.

"No I would _love _to kick your ass and put you in your place you asshole. It's just..." she trailed off frustrated that she couldn't explain why this might not exactly be a good idea. She was never good with words. Not when it was real. Not when she couldn't craft some fancy lie to cover her mistakes. All he wanted was the truth. And she never had to talk about the truth this much in her entire life. He understood her hesitation instantly because he had the same problem with most people too - but not with her. They were too much alike for it to be a problem. He took a step forward and easily tugged her tense body into a warm hug. He wrapped his warm body around her relatively cool frame and just held her.

"I'm not afraid of your darkness Tasha," he whispered in her ear. She froze in his arms like she usually does and he just smiled softly against her cheek. She didn't know what to say or how to react for several minutes. He simply continued to hold her as he waited for her to decide what to do.

"You _should _be," she breathed out quietly. He shook his head with a weak smile.

"Can't. Don't have self-preservation skills remember?" he said playfully. He grinned when he felt her snort.

"Damn right you don't - that was the first thing I learned the second I laid eyes on your sorry ass," she muttered against his shirt. He laughed out loud and she nearly jumped out of her skin as she felt the vibrations tear through her body. It was a horrible feeling! How on earth does he laugh like that? Especially after all the things he has been through. Especially after everything he had seen that proved that the world wasn't pretty and full of sunshine and daisies and damn _rainbows_. It was full of disappointment, agony and lies. Life was just plain cruel. It was-

"Tasha your pessimistic thoughts are depressing me," Clint mumbled into her hair right on cue. She snorted. Child.

"Can you let go of me now?" she asked slowly as she shifted uneasily in his arms. He shook his head.

"Nope - never," he whispered. She sighed - he always turned her words into something they were not. She promptly stomped on his foot and pinched him in the shoulder forcing him to let her go.

"_Owe_! Tasha that hurt!" he complained with a genuine painful look on his face. She shot him a dry look.

"One day Barton your incessant need to hug every wounded or lonely looking living thing in sight is going to be the death of you," she said shaking her head in disbelief and walking away with her hands still twitching from the tense in her body that never really ever went away. She headed towards the training rooms. She needed to hit something right now. She felt him fall into step beside her and remain silent for several minutes.

Silence with Clint Barton meant a lot of things. Usually it meant he was going to say something that always makes her wary of him. However _sometimes_ they meant he was shaking with rage and on the verge of destroying everything in sight. She had a feeling it was the former at the moment. She felt him take a deep breath and waited to hear what he would say.

"Honestly Tasha? I have only hugged two people in the last 5 years," he finally said quietly as he walked alongside her. She froze for a fraction of a second but didn't stop walking.

It wasn't hard to guess who those two people were.

"You really _want _me to beat the crap out of you?" she asked slowly. He shrugged.

"You can _try_," he said calmly. She gave him a careful look.

"I'm pretty sure I have slightly better hand to hand combat skills then you," she said slowly. He raised an eyebrow in response to her slightly more than arrogant reply.

"Only slightly oh great Widow of the North?" he asked dryly. She shot him a deadly look.

"You got riffles and arrows Hawkboy. I got killer fists and shotguns," she said like it was the truth that kept the world going round. He wagged his eyebrows at her suddenly and she knew she was going to kick his ass for his next comment.

"Don't forget killer legs. You've got _stunning_ legs woman," he said eying her smooth and unscarred limbs appreciatively. Her eye twitched.

"You really _do_ have no self-preservation skills don't you?" she said in a strained voice. He laughed as he shot her another one of his boyish grins as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Of course not Tasha! However would I survive your _wonderful_ personality if I had annoying signals in my head telling me to run away all the time?" he said with a laugh.

They both froze when they realized what he said wasn't exactly a joke. They both knew Natasha wasn't particularly someone easy to get along with. In fact up until now she never did mix well with - well _anyone_.

Basically you need to be slightly crazy to like her.

Natasha promptly turned away as she slammed a blank wall down on her face and stalked down the hall. Clint sighed and ran after her once again.

"I didn't mean it like that Tasha! You know I was just joking!" he called after her. She didn't react as usual.

"Most of your jokes aren't funny Barton," she said curtly. He quickly walked in front of her to block her angry stomp to the training rooms and spread his arms out to stop her from passing him.

"Oh yeah? Then why do you always have this amused glint in your eyes when you think I'm not looking?" he said accusingly. She narrowed her eyes.

"You're seeing things Barton," she said warningly. Clint shook his head and promptly grasped her by the shoulders and stared at her with serious eyes. She was starting to believe she hates his serious expressions more than the insane grins. Serious Barton made things too real.

"Yes I know. I see _you_ Tasha. And let me tell you, you are a right pain in my ass - literally. Sometimes you really beat the shit out of me. You are stubborn as hell and never let me live things down. You drive me crazy on a good day and sometimes make me want to tear my hair out on our bad days too. But I'm _so_ glad to have you as my partner Tasha," he said earnestly. She stared at him in genuine confusion. Didn't he just _brutally_ insult her? He shook his head at her confusion and smiled softly.

"I _like_ those things about you Tasha. You don't let me push you around, you can actually save my ass when things go to shit and you're _real_. You have no idea how many people have lied to in my life Tasha. _No_ idea. So who gives a shit if the world doesn't like you? _I_ like you. I think you're _awesome_. I think you're someone worth sticking around for," he said with the honesty pouring out of his words. She stared at the truth shining in his eyes and literally stood there froze in shock. She couldn't even accuse him of lying because it was just so real. So she deflected - as usual.

"Is this a proposal speech or something?" she asked warily. He shot her one of his megawatt smiles.

Maybe she shouldn't have said that.

"Only if it's a proposal to stay partners together forever and ever?" he said with a cheekily grin. Natasha sighed.

"It really _is_ a proposal speech," she muttered as she rubbed her forehead. He grinned.

"Hey at least you're getting a proposal from a cute mysterious secret agent right?" he said wagging his eyebrows at her. Her response?

Blank stare - the one where he knew she was not impressed. Not one bit. Darn she was hard to please.

"You're not cute Barton. That is just _wrong_," she said dryly. He pouted.

"Not even a little?" he asked giving her his signature puppy dog eyes. Now she just looked annoyed. She should kick his puppy ass.

"Do you _want_ to be compared to someone like Alicia?" she asked warily. He paused and considered this.

"Eh...Good point - she wins hands down," he said with a grimace. Natasha sighed.

"See you later Barton - I'm going home," she said shaking her head and turning away from her insane partner. Forget training - he was annoying her too much.

Clint watched her walk away for a second and debated on whether she was bored enough that she wouldn't kill him for what he was about to do next. He was pretty much the only distraction in her rather dull outside of missions life. The odds were still not quite in his favor - but when were they ever?

Eh what the heck.

He shot forward to wrap his arms around her waist, easily picked her up off the ground and dragged her towards the training room that wasn't too far away. Natasha blinked before the explosion occurred.

"BARTON WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU _DOING_?" she shouted as she literally got _carried_ around the corner.

_Oh score _he thought. He has never made Natasha shout before.

"We're going to spar and you're going to _like_ it!" he said with finality as he half carried, half dragged her down the hall. She was so confused.

"Stop _dragging_ me at least!" she shrieked. He scoffed.

"Not a _chance _you coward. You'll just run away," he said with a snort. Natasha put her head in her hands and groaned.

"Why? Why me? Why does this always happen to me?" she said in a strained voice. He rolled his eyes. She was _pathetic_.

"Oh _shut up_ Tasha - you're letting me drag your sorry ass because you have absolutely nothing to do at home you raging workaholic," he said with a snort as he kicked open the training room door and shoved her into room. She easily fell to her feet with perfect balance and gracefully spun around to give him a warning look mixed with something sinister. That was never good.

"Fine. You want to spar? Let's spar," she said and the next thing he knew he had a black handled knife embedded in the wall an inch from his left ear. He paled.

"KNIVES DON'T COUNT AS SPARING!" he exclaimed as he dived for the floor as another 2 sharp projectiles flew through the air barely missing him by a hair's breath each time. He heard her chuckle darkly.

"I'm Russian. We're going to play by _my_ rules," she said with a smirk while spinning another one of her blades in her hand. Clint gaped at her insanity – part of his shock was awe.

The woman would be the death of him.

**A/N: Sparing and flirting seemed to have won. Psh you guys thought their fight last time was sexy? I wasn't even trying – that was legitimate anger management. Let's have a **_**real**_** sexy fight and then off we'll go on another mission. It will be something neither of them are prepared for – but hilarious. I know Spain was just plain agnsty - but necessary. If they didn't go on that disaster mission Natasha would have taken **_**months**_** more to trust him even the little bit she does right now – which is not much. You can't have both realism **_**and**_** steamy Clintasha guys – at least not yet. Patience oh little Padawans! You'll like where they're going next. **

_**Dare: I dare you to fight me – but I don't play fair. I play dirty and I'll kick your ass. **_

**P.S. Sign into your ff account if you want me to reply to your reviews guys. I love guest reviews – but I can't respond to you if you do that. I usually respond to all the signed ones. Thank you for the amazing response for this story! **

**See you later fellow hopeless Clintasha addicts. Rehab would not be able to handle us.**


	24. Chapter 24

**I dare you **

**A/N: Hey guys – well. I really have nothing to say other then don't read this with your parents around. LOL. It's very different then their angry fight. **

**Chapter 24**

In a training room not too far into the SHIELD base in New York Natasha Romanoff was having dare she say it – _fun_. What did she consider fun? Making her so called partner Clint Barton run for his life. She smirked as she threw another one of her killer knives over her shoulder and heard him inhale sharply as it barely missed his ear by the width of toothpick. She was so damn _bold. _If he was anyone else he would have been dead within minutes. But he wasn't. He was Clint Barton – possibly the best agent at SHIELD and one of the best assassins in the world. She didn't give a rat's _ass_ about his reputation though – it was his raw skills that always proved his worth.

That was probably why she wasn't really holding anything back. The fact that she didn't treat him like glass like most people did to traumatized soldiers was one of the only reasons he didn't care if his life was really on the line. He felt like his life was _always_ on the line when Natasha Romanoff was around. Just the sight of her makes the adrenaline start pumping through his veins and puts him in an unhealthy high alert state of mind. No other girl has ever made him feel like that.

"Why aren't you fighting back Barton?" she asked mischievously as she spun around and watched him dive to the other side of the room. He was out of breath and she was barely even breaking a sweat. It wasn't a fair fight by any means - but Natasha never played fair. Not once in her life. That was why she was still alive when so many other assassins were _dead_.

"I'm not fighting back until you put your god damn knives away!" he called out irritably. Natasha smirked as Clint quickly hid behind a boxing bag to avoid her never ending knife collection. He groaned as he felt a blade sink into the bag and cause sand to start pouring out onto the floor.

"Tasha you are making a _mess_!" Clint shouted as he peaked over his shoulder to see where she was – he froze when his eyes scanned the empty room. She was gone. He narrowed his eyes – no she definitely was _not_ gone. He took a careful step back and instantly regretted it as he walked right into a warm body and felt the terrifyingly warm breath on his ear. He was so lost in her touch that he didn't even notice the sharp knife being held dangerously close to his yet to be cut throat- did all her targets feel like this? Was it just him? Or was she really just _that_ good?

"Checkmate," she whispered in his ear like he does so often – except when _she_ did it, it was so much more effective. He felt like his entire body was on fire again like the time in the warehouse after she shot him. Maybe sparing with her _was_ a bad idea. There were things he promised himself he wouldn't look at after his stint in SHIELD medical all alone for a week after the Hoffa mission. There were emotions towards Natasha Romanoff he wasn't allowed to feel. Never allowed to feel.

But she wasn't the only one who could shove her bothersome emotions to the side and concentrate on a fight. He wasn't halfway to crazy in pain either. He took a deep breath and she felt his body calm against hers from the top down as she held the knife dangerously close to his skin. She wondered what he would do as she had him cornered and at her mercy.

"There is no such thing as checkmate until your opponent is truly dead," he said quietly before he firmly grabbed her arm that was held around his neck, twisted it over his head, aimed a disarming blow at her stomach with his elbow and caused her to drop the knife before she jumped away from him with a well-disguised grimace.

"Not bad," she said with a sharp smile as she quickly regained her balance and took a few deep breaths. He spun around and flashed her one of his signature boyish grins as he swiftly picked up her knife and threw it across the room. They both knew it hit a bull's eye target board right in the center without even glancing over to check. She stood her ground as he took a bold step forward and leaned into her personal space.

"No knives," he whispered inches from her face breathing in the light puffs of air she was exhaling steadily. She cocked an eyebrow not intimidated by her partner's intense stare in the least. In fact – it was thrilling to have someone who could _finally_ stand his ground and fight her toe to toe. Most men were putty in her hands when she flashed a seductive smile and brushed them the wrong way. She was tired of winning fights based solely on her distracting appeal to the opposite sex. Clint didn't deny she was attractive – but he wasn't a weak man either. Natasha would _never_ stay as his partner if he was brought to his knees simply because of her alluring charms. Natasha stared back at his sharp blue eyes and felt a slight smirk pull at the edge of her lips.

Natasha Romanoff had met her match and she _liked_ it.

"My you are demanding Barton," she said tilting her head to the side as another knife appeared out of nowhere and she spun it in her hand once more. She easily kept it in place even with a dangerous man like Clint Barton looming over her. He could be truly terrifying if he wanted to be. There were dark and deadly things he was capable of but which were not quite part of his personality.

"And you never _listen_ Romanoff," he growled quietly. She gave him a dark smile that hid dangerous promises.

"Persuade me," she whispered challengingly. She felt him grow rigid without even touching him.

"I don't feel like talking anymore," he whispered with a slight rumble in his voice before he promptly knocked the knife out of her and threw a speedy fist at her face. She smirked and then she was gone before he even had time to pull back.

"You've got to be faster than that Barton!" she chuckled from behind him. He spun around and blocked one of her solid kicks with his forearm and ducked as she swung her own fist his way. He swiftly shifted to the side to avoid her incoming elbow and instead he used her speed and momentum to redirect her blow downward so that she momentarily lost her balance and crashed into him. He caught her easily and slammed her into a wall knocking the breath right out of her lungs.

"Do I make you feel breathless Tasha?" he laughed huskily in her ear. She scoffed at his arrogant tone.

"In your _dreams_ Barton," she growled before she promptly kicked him in the shin and knocked him off his feet with a strong shove. He fell to the floor and instantly rolled to his left as he felt another one of her killer blows speedily rush passed his face, barely missing him by a second.

She laughed as she hit thin air and quickly pulled back to block one of his own strong punches aimed towards her stomach. He glanced down as her rather scratched up knuckles and up at the blindingly _real_ smile on her face as she breathed heavily and quickly avoided another one of his fists he intended for her shoulder – the one she didn't injure. He was more than a little caught off guard but didn't let it show.

He has never seen a real smile on her face his entire life. It was a little unnerving.

"Are you a masochist or something Tasha?" he asked warily as he jumped back when she tried to trip him again with a sweep of her foot. He heard her chuckle as he ducked to avoid a swift kick to his head.

"Maybe – are you?" she asked with a mysterious smile. He raised an eyebrow as he shot forward and tried to catch her off balance and threw several rapid punches her way. She shifted from left to right and avoided them all easily as she walked backwards.

"No I don't think so," he said as he concentrated on trying to land even a single blow on her quick body – she was right. She was faster than him - mostly because she was lighter on her feet. But fights weren't always about speed – you needed to be patient and wait for the right strategic opening to actually win.

And Clint Barton was nothing if not patient.

She suddenly stopped moving backwards and instead of blocking his next blow she shifted to the right and let his arm shoot out over her shoulder before she gracefully leaned forward. He tensed as her lips brushed against his ear.

"I think you're lying," she whispered in his ear. He clenched his jaw and quickly used their momentary close contact to shove her body into the wall behind her. She raised an eyebrow as she hit the wall and smirked when he grabbed her wrists and firmly held them against the cool concrete.

"I think you get _off_ on adrenaline woman," he grumbled as he held her in place. She gave him a dry look.

"And you're trying to say you _don't_?" she snorted not even trying to get out of his grasp. He furrowed his brow when she stopped moving.

"What are you doing?" he asked suspiciously. She gave him a mysterious smile before she promptly kneed him in the gut and cause him to drop to the floor. She laughed as she skirted away from his gasping form.

"Aw that was not fair Tasha," he groaned as he rolled over and pushed himself off the ground. She shrugged as she watched him regain his balance.

"I already told you I don't play fair Barton," she said simply. He gave her a quizzing look before he started throwing rapid punches all over again. She was ready for him though and blocked them all easily. She had deceptively strong arms. _Damn_. He could feel the strength in them with every blow he aimed and she redirected.

"Where did you learn how to fight Tasha?" he asked as he quickly tried to land a hit on her stomach but she jumped away too fast as all he got was air. She chuckled darkly.

"In Russia of course - where else?" she asked rolling her eyes as she spun around and aimed a kick aimed at his shin again – he avoided it easily. He didn't fall for the same trick twice. She smiled when she realized this.

"Who taught you?" he asked instead. She shrugged as she watched him circle her.

"Life," she said simply. He furrowed his brow as he blocked another one of her fists aimed at his cheek.

"Sounds like a harsh teacher," he said softly as he caught the next fist she threw his way instead of blocking it with his arm. She stared at his hand wrapped loosely around her relaxed fist for several seconds.

"I lived," she said simply before she ripped her hand away form his and jumped back. He nodded slowly.

"I can see that," he said as he held his fists up and gestured for her to come at him. She raised an eyebrow and promptly aimed a blow at his head, pulled back at the last second and speedily aimed her other fist at his stomach – he blocked the second blow easily without even looking away from her intense gaze. He was _good_. She always knew it. It was different to actually see it firsthand though. She decided she didn't really like where this conversation was going and chose to change the topic.

"You guessed right you know?" she said suddenly must calmer then when she started out today. She was _finally _relaxing even slightly after months of being on guard all the damn time. The woman had been on the road to killing herself.

He didn't doubt that she has thought about it. He used to think about it too. But now he met her and a little girl he kind of wants to see again and just like in the prison he was still slightly shocked he doesn't want to die anymore. There was finally something in his life worth living for.

He didn't think he was quite the same thing in her life though.

"Guessed what right?" he asked as he blocked another one of her killer blows. She might be more relaxed but he thinks her punches just got _better_. And here he thought anger could turn you into a beast. Apparently a relaxed Black Widow was equally as deadly if not more so than a tense one. He expected nothing less. He would be disappointed if she wasn't this good.

"I lied. I _was_ wearing red lingerie the other day," she said unexpectedly with sneaky smirk on her face.

He froze and promptly got socked in the face as a heavy punch actually made contact with his jaw. He instantly got thrown onto the floor and landed on his face with a loud _thump_. He groaned - that was going to leave a mark.

Natasha blinked as she watched him groan on the ground and glance down at her fist. _What_?

"You were distracted..." she said genuinely surprised she had landed a direct hit. He rolled onto his back and tenderly felt his nearly broken jaw.

"I wasn't really paying attention to our fight from the start Tasha..." he muttered as he pushed himself into a sitting position. He winced as he rubbed his bruised head that hit the ground a bit too hard.

He suddenly found an ice pack in his face. He blinked.

"Here," she said quietly holding out the bag of ice for him. He slowly took it from her hand and held the cool bag to his cheek in relief. She gave him a quizzing look.

"I didn't punch you _that_ hard," she muttered. He raised an eyebrow and promptly picked up a towel and spat out a mouth full of blood that had accumulated from the cut he got from accidentally biting his cheek on impact. She stared at it for a couple of seconds.

"You were saying?" he said dryly. She scoffed and turned away.

"Baby," she muttered. He raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not crying over it - don't get _too_ proud of yourself," he said frankly as he pushed himself off the ground. He threw the towel into the trash and turned around to watch her give him a calculative look.

"Barton, if you cried every time a girl punched you I would have shot you a long time ago," she finally said with brutal honesty. She wasn't even joking. He laughed and shook his head.

"Why am I not surprised?" he asked himself as he stared up at the ceiling.

He didn't really expect to _actually_ get a replay from said ceiling.

_BEEP_.

"_Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff get your asses in my office right now! You two are leaving my base today you cranky restless bastards. Causing riots and distracting fellow agents in these halls. Unbelievable_!" Fury growled over the intercom before he buzzed out. Clint and Natasha blinked.

"What is he talking about?" Clint asked in confusion. They heard a squeak from behind them and slowly turned around to stare at no less than 30 junior agents with their faces pressed up against the windows lining the right side of the room. They all had matching awe expressions on their faces that instantly turned to horror when they realized they were caught. A couple of the female junior agents froze mid-fanning themselves. They _definitely_ just watched the whole fight. Clint raised an eyebrow and Natasha narrowed her eyes.

The new agents all promptly fled the scene like the fires of hell were licking at their heels in every single directions - nearly crashing into each other in their hast to run away. Natasha watched their cowardness with a dark look.

"Can we shoot at them before we go see Fury?" she asked slowly. He glanced at her rather serious expression and rolled his eyes.

"No," he said dryly.

"Damn. I wanted to practice my aim," she muttered.

"I fear for their pathetic lives," he said calmly.

"No - I have ways of inducing fear in their souls without resorting to taking their lives. They will never be able to walk down the same hall as me ever again," she said dangerously with a crazy glint in her eyes. He stared at her for a second before he shook his head.

"I see why you lasted so long on the other side Tasha - you got one hell of an evil streak in you," he said with a snort. She scowled at him.

"At least I wasn't a teenaged small town crook who stole from fat old men for his dinner," she said with a huff before she stalked out the door and towards their boss' office. Clint gaped at her in shock - not for the reason you many think.

"I wasn't a small town crook! I was a damn _professional_ world class thief!" he shouted as he ran after her.

"Your proudness gives it all away Barton!" she said over her shoulder as she rounded the corner. He scowled at her retreating form. Oh he was going to get her back for that one – after he got his heart rate under control that was. Natasha Romanoff was going to give him a heart attack one day. That or cause all the blood in his veins to evaporate because she had just started a fire that was never going to go out.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Was that sexy enough for you? LOL even though it was simply a really good fight. Clintasha just makes it look like something it is **_**not**_**. Haha. Off to a mission now. Danger is no stranger to these two fighters. They're still only friends by the way. Don't mistake this for romance. It's not. This was intense flirting. I have plans for what **_**romance**_** would look like. You might like my odd style of romance. It's not fluffy – its passionate and painful. **

**Bye now! **

**Review if you liked it! **


	25. Chapter 25

**I dare you **

**A/N: You will laugh. At the end. lol. MISSION #4 TIME! :D **

**Chapters 25 **

5 minutes after leaving the training rooms Natasha and Clint stood in front of their rather informal boss while he proceeded to give them _the eye_.

"Why is it that _every_ time you two are occupying the air space on my base you go at each other's throat's like wild beasts? Was prison not enough?" Fury asked angrily. They both gave him a long look.

Nobody really wanted to talk about Spain. Fury took the hint.

"Fine - silence is golden. So you have a choice agents. You can either continue your momentary break from missions and finish up that paperwork or you can go on a mission that is not quite in your area. If you don't want it that is fine-" Fury started to say but instantly stopped talking as he stared at agent Barton with a way look. What was up with his face?

Clint suddenly lost his cool as a look of extreme horror crossed his face. Natasha furrowed her brow – what the hell?

"Oh _god_ no! Give us the mission Fury! I'm begging you!" Clint said falling to his knees with pleading eyes. _That_ was a first.

Natasha and Fury shared a long look. _Who was the one who was being restless now?_ She thought silently.

"Do you not feed him or something Romanoff?" Fury asked blankly. She snorted.

"He eats like a pig sir. I don't think it's his stomach this is being deprived," she said dryly. He raised an eyebrow as he glanced between Barton's wide oversized saucer-like blue eyes and Romanoff's standard blank expression. He really didn't understand how their partnership worked. Not at all.

"So he just wants attention yes?" he said with a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Natasha shrugged.

"Probably," she said dryly. Fury gave her a grim look. Clint gaped at his partner and boss teaming up against him.

"I AM STILL _HERE_ PEOPLE!" Clint exclaimed waving his arms around trying to make himself known. They purposely ignored him of course. Fury rolled eyes his eyes and pulled open his drawer.

"Fine - you want a mission Barton? You got it," Fury said tossing him a green folder. Clint caught it easily and gave him his a megawatt smile. Fury stared at him with a very clear unamused expression. Really Agent Barton was too much sometimes. He was _supposed_ to be one of the best agents at SHIELD. Honestly if they didn't have proof of his work in the field they would have kicked his ass out of here a long time ago.

"Pack up your stuff you two are going to Colombia. By the way you're also going to need different uniform for that terrain," Fury said eying their standard SHIELD uniform in distaste. Those were going to be terribly useless in this mission. Clint's cheerfulness instantly wiped off his face – time for business. Natasha found a lot of things about Clint Barton annoying and downright aggravating. But she appreciated his ability to switch between his many moods easily – more easily than she ever could.

Even if that did make him seem slightly bi polar.

"Why?" they asked in unison with matching wary expressions. Fury paused – damn that was some scary synchronization. Apparently under all the ice and cheerfulness they both ran on the same mental wavelength. It was spooky. Fury gave them a wary look.

"Because you two are going to take a hike through the amazon and get dirty as hell. You're going to trek through a sanctioned patch of grass no one has been allowed on for over 60 years," he said gravely. They said they wanted _a_ mission – not that it was going to be ideally in their specialty.

They both blinked as they glanced down at the mission files sitting in Clint's hands.

"It's a god damn nature reserve Fury. Why the _hell_ are we flying out into the middle of nowhere with only gigantic beasts roaming around for miles?" Clint asked cautiously. Fury leaned back against his chair and gave him a long look. They all knew there was something else – there always was.

"Because a Colombian arms dealer named Rafael Castro is building motherfucking missiles underneath the sanctioned reserve. He plans to sell them on the black market and then those stupid ass pieces of metal will become a pain in my ass in less than 6 months. So to save myself a headache – you're going to go shut them down," Fury said with a dead serious look on his face. They didn't question his judgment on how dangerous this potentially was for the world at large – however they _did_ question his sanity on whether this was actually a job for just 2 agents. It sounded like a full SHIELD team crackdown.

"How big is the underground compound?" Clint asked cautiously. He didn't like the look on his boss' face.

"2 square miles," Fury said steadily.

_Dead silence. _

"How the _hell_ do we stop an artillery factory that size Fury? We're good - but we can't and we _won't_ kill the number of people it's required to run a project that big," Clint said firmly. He had a place where even he would draw the line and this was it. Fury gave him a long look.

"I'm not asking you to blow up hundreds of people Barton. I'm not asking you to kill anyone today. I just need you to unleash the beasts," he said with an evil glint in his eyes. Natasha and Clint stared at their boss with matching wary looks. He was doing it again.

"What?" they asked blankly.

"_Nanobots_," Fury said with an evil smirk on his face. They both froze.

"What do you mean nanobots?" Clint asked slowly.

"Metal eating nanobots," Fury said whipping a clear plastic bag at the wary looking sniper. He caught the bag full of dubious micro weapon technology and shared a wary look with his partner.

"Nothing ends well when it depends on technology," Natasha said blankly. Fury raised an eyebrow.

"Technology is what makes the world go round agents," he said plainly. The two world-wary agents still didn't look any more convinced.

"Do these nanobots eat…people?" Clint asked with a wince. Oh dear god this mission was already starting to sound crazy. Fury snorted.

"_No_ you idiots it's a _machine_ not a man-eating beast," Fury said giving them a severely unimpressed look. Clint scoffed.

"I wouldn't put it passed you," Clint muttered under his breath. Fury gave him the _eye_.

"What was that Barton?" Fury asked dangerously. Clint quickly flashed his director a blinding smile.

"Nothing Sir," he said showing some pretty white teeth. Fury's eyes twitch. He could only stand their presence for so long. Natasha quickly intervened in the staring match that might just turn into a shooting match in 5 seconds.

"How are we getting in there exactly?" she asked slowly. Fury suddenly smirked - he simply smirked. She tensed – she _really_ didn't like those kinds of smirks. It made her want to kill people she _probably_ shouldn't. When her partner started smirking too when he realized what his boss was thinking she knew she might end up killing them all anyway.

_9 hours of boring flight time later. _

"I HATE FALLING!" she screamed as they fell through the sky at increasing speeds – for once they were falling with _real_ parachutes though. Clint grinned as he heard her scream.

"I totally knew that from the second we become partners!" he laughed as he fell beside her enjoying the wind rushing past his face as they fell 2000 feet above the ground. It was _amazing_!

"SHUT UP BARTON! I HOPE YOU DIE AS A PANCAKE WHEN WE HIT THE GROUND!" she shouted at him over the loud air rushing passed them. Clint simply beamed at her as he leaned forward and flicked her nose. She blinked – what was _that_?

"You're funny," he said simply. She promptly scowled at him and shoved him away from her.

"Go die by yourself!" she muttered heatedly. His laughter rang in her ears as they approached the earth's surface at increasing speeds. It was almost time to pull their chutes. He wished he had a camera to capture the utter horror on her face when she came to realize this too.

"Tasha you get high off almost _all_ dangerous situations and yet you can't stand heights?" he asked in amusement. She scowled as him as her hair flew into her face.

"I _don't_ mind heights! It's the damn feeling of weightlessness I hate! I like my feet on the _ground_!" she growled. He laughed softly at her extreme frustration and gave her a warm look.

"I _like_ being in the air – for a second you can pretend nothing on earth can hold you down and all the shit that you carry around is lifted off your shoulders for a moment," he said quietly. She lost the scowl on her face and blinked when she realized he was being serious again. She looked away and stared at the clouds they were falling through.

"But then that moment ends Barton," she said quietly. He smiled weakly as he watched her fall beside him.

"And that's when you close your eyes and start pretending it didn't end – not yet," he whispered with a faraway look on his face. She wondered how much of what he was telling her was really what went on in his messed up head. You can't live through the horrors he had been through and come out completely sane. She _knew_ he wasn't completely sane – but then she probably wasn't either.

"Time to pull the chute Barton," she said quietly as she stared at his warm eyes. Maybe it was okay if he wasn't quite sane. She didn't think he could stand her if he was. They locked eyes and pulled their parachute straps at the same time.

Only Clint's parachute opened. Natasha tensed as she tugged at her strap frantically as she continued to fall faster. She gritted her teeth.

"I _KNEW_ IT! I KNEW I WAS GOING TO DIE AS A PANCAKE ASSASSIN!" she shouted as she covered her face with her hands. She heard his booming laughter and clenched her jaw.

"Stop _laughing_!" she shouted as she slammed her eyes shut. She _knew_ she was going to end up dying in a stupid way – her life was too screwed up like that. And the best part was that he was going to be here to watch the whole damn thing. She was about to resign herself to her doomed fate when she felt strong arms wrap around her waist and easily pull her out of free-fall. She felt her entire body start to lose speed and felt the uneasiness rack through her body as she started to slow down. She clenched her fists as he leaned his chin on her shoulder.

"You're not going to die Tasha – I won't let you. You promised we'd be partners forever remember?" he whispered in her ear. She growled at his stupid double meanings – he was messing with her when she was about to _die_? She wanted to _punch_ him and push him away but then she noticed the rapidly approaching ground and quickly spun around in his arms.

"Barton if you drop me I will come back from the dead and kick your ass – I _swear_ I will," she muttered as she quickly threw her arms around his neck and held onto him tightly. She was _not_ going to die if she could help it! He suddenly inhaled sharply as he felt her warp herself around his body with her legs around his waist. Natasha _never_ hugs him. She _never_ returns his embraces. It was shocking his system that she was voluntary holding onto him – and even though he knew it was only to save her own neck…it felt nice to be held. She stared at the weird look on his face in suspicion.

"Why the _hell_ do you look like you're about to die happy Barton?" she growled inches from his face. He laughed and just shook his head.

"No reason," he said with a sudden mischievous grin on his face. She narrowed her eyes at the dirty bastard.

"If you dare think any gutter worthy thoughts about this position I will _shoot_ you when we reach the damn juggle ground!" she hissed at him. He simply continued to grin deviously at her and raised an eyebrow. She then froze as she realized where exactly his hands were resting as he kept her balanced against him.

They were on her ass.

"BARTON!" she shrieked at the top of her lungs. He laughed as she shook with rage in his arms and quickly glanced down at the treetops they were about to hit. _Oh shit._

"Get ready for a rough landing!" he shouted before their feet touched the trees and then they were suddenly falling past the thick rainforest treetop layer and hitting hundreds of branches as they fell between the thick trunks.

"This was a _stupid_ place to fall!" she growled as she held onto him as they hit branch after branch. He winced as he dragged her closer to his body and tried to take most of the hit.

"I can't exactly _steer_ this thing while holding on to you at the same time!" he said irritably as he tried to grab onto one of the hundreds of thick tree branches around them and slow their fall. She growled as she held him tighter.

"We're not stopping Barton!" she shouted as she felt another branch scrap her cheek and leave and angry red trail of blood on her face. He gritted his teeth and glanced up at the parachute dragging them down.

"Don't let go!" he shouted before he quickly let go of _her_ and reached up to unhook himself from the parachute. She wasn't prepared to be the only thing holding her to him and when she felt them fall faster than before she was too startled to keep her grip on him and felt him slip right out of her arms. She flailed her arms around in panic for a second before she promptly landed on a large branch with a painful _thump_. Clint gaped at her in shock.

"I told you not to let _go_!" he shouted as he fell the rest of the way to the forest floor. Natasha gasped still out of breath from the impact as she held onto the thick branch and winced when she heard him hit something hard with a loud _smack_.

She was about to take a deep breath and ask him if he was still alive when she heard a loud telltale _squeal_. She glanced down at the forest floor and squinted her eyes. Was that _him_?

"Barton?" she asked in confusion. The next thing she knew her partner was tumbling out of the under bush with a panicked look on his face. He quickly scrambled to his feet and literally _ran_ for his life.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Clint screamed as he ran across the forest floor. She furrowed her brow in confusion – why was he acting like a manic? She glanced at the movement in the bush behind him and froze. Suddenly she caught sight of an angry capybara hot on his tail. Natasha shook her head in amazement as she watched her partner run past her.

"He started the day with blowing my ear drums and he ends the day with blowing my ear drums. Seriously. What am I going to do with you Barton?" she muttered as she sat in the tree and watched him run for his pathetic life with the gigantic rodent chasing him through the forest.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH HELP ME DAMN IT TASHA!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. She rolled her eyes.

"Run up a tree idiot!" she cupped her hands over her mouth and shouted at him. He shot her a dirty look.

"It's kind of hard to do with a fucking _beast_ on your tail!" he screamed back at her. She rolled her eyes.

"At least this is better than paperwork right?" she asked with a smirk. He scowled viciously at her.

"I was going crazy _there_ from boredom and I'll go _crazy_ here from the sheer madness of the wild. _Nowhere_ is safe for my sanity Tasha!" he shouted as he quickly sped up. That angry capybara _really_ didn't like Barton falling on him and waking him up from his deep slumber.

"You were never sane you crazy bastard," she said rolling her eyes. She suddenly heard Clint shriek in distress.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH! STOP TRYING TO _BITE_ ME!" Clint shouted as he continued to run in circles with the gigantic rodent snapping at him angrily. She chuckled darkly.

This was definitely going to be a mission she would never forget.

Oh and Capybaras were her new best friend.

"Go Capy Go!" she called out with a smirk. Clint gaped up at her as he continued to run for his life.

"WHO'S SIDE ARE YOU ON WOMAN?" he shouted in disbelief.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Ahahahaha! I have nothing to say other than the fact that this is supposed to be one funny mission – until everything goes to shit of course ;) **

**Ready to start another mission adventure? Anything you want to happen to them in the wild? I have some…interesting ideas. Before they figure out where this underground base is of course. **


	26. Chapter 26

**I dare you **

**A/N: Okay mixed reviews. I can take it. Yes I know you are all wondering about Alicia. And she is not here right now. Coulson relocated her and they have another week before they can find her. She's safe and all but Natasha and Clint's lives go on. This is not a fluffy story – I made that very clear from chapter one. They are not going to quit being agents and take care of a cute little kid. They are not even together. They don't even trust each other completely. Alicia is a nice side character but you will **_**not**_** see her every chapter I'm sorry. She isn't their kid and they aren't going to adopt her. This story is still about how Clint and Natasha became such good partners leading up to the Avengers – Alicia is simply one of the people that bring them together. You'll see her after this mission. Promise. I like her too. **

**Chapter 26**

Natasha watched in amusement as Clint continued to run for his life with the damn rodent still hot on his tail. She could see the exhaustion pulling at his face and knew it was time to intervene and save his energy for when he'll really need. After 8 months of missions with this man she knew the type of shit that came their way – even on the simplest mission things always seemed to screw them over in some way. So she pulled out her gun and carefully waited for Clint to run passed her again.

"You might want to duck Barton!" she called out to him as she aimed her gun. His eyes shot up to her location in the tree and he visibly paled.

"DON'T SHOOT WHILE I'M STILL HERE DAMN IT!" he shouted in panic. She smirked and waited for the second Barton sped up like his life depended on it and fired her shot.

SEQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAL!

Dead.

Yeah she killed her so called capy _friend_. Not like she hasn't done that before.

No one accused Natasha Romanoff of being sane.

Natasha mentally patted herself on the back as she watched her partner collapse to the forest floor in exhaustion. The damn beast was finally dead and not chasing him anymore. Natasha chuckled at his relieved expression as he lay unmoving on the ground. She easily swung herself down from the branch she was resting on and gracefully landed onto the mossy floor beside him with her boots making a soft thump as they hit the earth.

"You make everything look so damn _easy_," he muttered childishly into the dirty forest floor. She chuckled as she took off the useless parachute from her shoulders and flung it in some random direction. Her eyes darkened – she still hated falling.

"Nothing in life is easy Barton. I'm just good and making it appear like so," she said as she crouched down beside him and took her small mission backpack off to search for something. He glanced at her from the ground still slightly winded from the chase and watched her take out a tracker device and start programing in. Her controlled and focused expression never changed even as she conversed with him.

She really was utterly brilliant.

"How far away are we supposed to be from the underground compound?" he asked glancing down at the screen in her hands. He watched her face change as she suddenly frowned.

"8 miles," she muttered irritably. He froze.

"What?" he asked in shock. She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a calming breath.

"It was the failed parachuting. We landed several miles off mark," she said trying not to blow up at him because she honestly would have died if he hadn't grabbed her to prevent her from falling to her death.

Then again he would have died too if she didn't shoot that damn capybara.

They nearly died on these insane missions so many times they have already lost count months ago. Now they just break even and promise to just go ahead and save the other's ass when it needed saving. Clint gave her an anxious look.

"Natasha its 2 pm in the afternoon. We only have 6 hours until sundown," he said cautiously. She snorted next to him and easily swung her backpack back onto her shoulders and stood up.

"Then get up Barton. We have a lot of hiking to do," she said giving his shock a pointed look.

"We're going to _walk_ there?" he muttered as he finally pushed himself off the ground and stood up in front of her. She raised an eyebrow.

"Something wrong with your legs Barton?" she asked warily. He scoffed.

"You _wish_ Romanoff," he said with a scowl. She chuckled as she glanced around the calm forest and listened to the wild life buzzing all around them. It was peaceful – rather unlike the dirty places some of their missions take place in. Her least favorite at the moment was prison. She really wasn't looking forward to another mission like that.

She was still kind of surprised she was still here, still partners with the idiot standing in front of her. There were a lot of things she was learning about her partner as the weeks grow into months and they still haven't killed each other yet. He was the first partner she ever genuinely _liked_ being around – but she was never going to tell him that. The cocky bastard would let it get to his head and piss her off with his arrogance all over again. He was a _good_ partner. He was good at what he did. She couldn't read him nearly as well as she could most people – but the things she _did _know about him were…sort of fascinating. Huh. So maybe she kind of found Clint Barton interesting. That was a first.

She slowly brought her eyes back to his curious ones and he wondered not for the first time what she was thinking about. He always wondered what a girl like her thought about when she looked at him like that. Like she was trying to figure him out piece by piece.

He wasn't trying to hide from her though.

"Ever had a race while in a rainforest?" she asked suddenly glancing down at the tracker in her hand that showed her the general terrain of the forest around them. He paused as he considered what she was saying. Ever since they got back from Spain she was a lot more playful in a weird _I can still kill you_ _but I don't feel like it anymore_ type of way. At first he was a bit wary of her sudden change because he thought she was messing with his head. And really above everything else he hated being treated like a target. Well maybe that wasn't quite true. He hated that she still thought she owed him that damn debt for not taking his shot and sparing her life more than that. But she never really made any serious advances on him – she never tried anything physical to repay him. It was all really just…playful.

Maybe it was because they were _finally_ friends. Maybe she finally wanted to have some fun with him.

"I'll enjoy the victory when I beat your ass by several minutes," she added with a devious smile tugging at her lips and a wicked glint dancing in her eyes. His thoughts instantly came to a screeching halt.

Maybe she was just a vindictive _beast_ who only kept him around because she liked to kick his ass.

"You want to put your money where your mouth is Tasha?" he asked racking his eyes over her rather fit form in a way to show her he didn't think she could do it. She noticed his rather obvious judging look but didn't take the bait.

"We make shit money working this job Barton," she said dryly. He rolled his eyes – she was such a kill joy. He still liked her though.

"Where are we racing to Tasha – because I sure as hell am not racing for 8 miles straight – I don't want to pass out before these nanobots really take over that darn compound," he said with a rather wary look. He really hated technology sometimes. It always managed to screw you over. He didn't doubt something was bound to go wrong – he just went with it anyway. Like most of the important decisions in his life – he just follows his gut and doesn't give a rat's ass about what anyone else thinks. It couldn't be that bad anyway.

It landed him a partner like her right?

"There is a cliff we are going to have to figure out how to cross when we reach it 2 miles ahead of us. It's north of where we are standing right now. It looks like mostly clear cut trees for most of the way. Except I don't trust this shit and I'm sure there are tons of fallen trees and possibly gaps in the floor that might give if you stepped on it the wrong way," she said carefully – as if she has done this before. He gave her a cautious look. How many things has Natasha Romanoff done in her relatively short life?

"How old are you exactly Tasha?" he asked warily. She gave him a dry look. He wasn't being funny.

"21 and going strong Barton," she said in a bored tone humoring his obvious question. He made a weird face.

"Why do I always feel like you're 10 years older than me then?" he muttered under his breath – she heard him anyway. She snorted.

"Easy Barton. Because you act like an 11 year old all the damn time," she said flashing him a devious smirk. He scowled at her. Damn he totally set himself up for that one.

"Get ready to eat your words Tasha," he said as he turned around and tried to spot the cliff so he had somewhere definite to mark as his destination. He felt her lean over beside him and brush her lips against his ear. He tensed as he felt her warm breath do weird things to his stomach again. Damn. He wished he really was as immune to her charms as she thought he was.

"All bark and no bite Barton. Ready? Go!" she laughed at his bewildered expression as she shot forward and dashed through the trees ahead of him. His mouth fell open in shock. She played him. She really did.

THE SNEAKY MINX!

"NATASHA ROMANOFF YOU ARE SUCH A CHEATER!" he shouted as he kicked his legs into action and ran after her. Her genuine musical laughter echoed around the forest and it was so damn distracting because she _never_ laughs like that. There were a lot of things he didn't think she did but she seemed to be proving him wrong a lot nowadays.

"You knew that from the start Barton!" she called over her shoulder as she hid her internal smile. She ran past several large trees trunks full of life and bugs and probably things that would make her gag in disgust if they ever landed on her – but then she thought about how much it would freak Barton out if he woke up to something like a gigantic tarantula on his face. She burst out laughing all over again.

Maybe she was just a _bit_ too sadistic today.

"Do I even _want_ to know what makes a deadly assassin laugh like that?" he shouted only 5 paces behind her. She shot another one of her mysterious smiles over her shoulder and locked eye with her partner for a second. Blue met green and the mirth in hers were obvious while annoyance in his wasn't quite real.

"Probably not," she said as she easily jumped over a log like she had predicted there would be and kept running. He shook his head as he picked up the pace and was practically running on her heels.

"Well Tasha if you have no qualms with cheating then neither will I," he said deviously and before she even had time to consider what on earth he was talking about she suddenly felt a warm mass of muscles crash into her slightly smaller body and knocked them both to the ground. She scowled as she roughly hit the ground and he laughed as he fell on top of her.

Too bad he didn't see the hill right in front of them. The idiot.

"We're not even _racing_ anymore Barton!" she shouted at him as they rolled down the bumpy hill. He laughed again as he tightened his hold around her waist and they both tumbled down the steep hill with their legs tangled together in a mess of limbs. They landed at the bottom of the peak with a soft thump and he lay on top of her as they breathlessly breathed in each other's air.

They stared at each other for several tense seconds and paused when they heard rushing water in the distance.

They both glanced at the cliff 20 meters in front of them and dragged their eyes right back to each other.

Natasha narrowed her gaze and promptly nailed him in the gut before she ran for her life. Clint gasped in pain and was so pissed at himself for not seeing that coming before he shoved himself off the ground and dashed after her. He was about to yell something along the lines of _dirty Russian cheater_ when he crashed right into her back when she came to a screeched halt 5 seconds later.

Her entire demeanor had changed and he could feel the tension racking up and down her body. She quickly spun around and shoved him back the way they came. He saw the steeled look in her eyes and knew she had spotted something or someone they didn't want to see them. He silently let her swiftly drag him back through the trees and watched her clench her jaw as she whipped out the tracker and glanced around. She yanked him behind one of the larger tree trunks and shoved him up against it. Before he could ask what she had seen she placed a hand over his mouth and he watched her tilt her head to the side with a serious concentrated look on her face.

Then he heard what she was hearing all along.

"Castro is not going to be happy when he finds out there were some jets flying a bit too close to the reserve for comfort you know," a gruff voice said not too far away from them. They both shared a wary look.

Busted before they even started. _Damn_.

"Nothing unusual happened though so he shouldn't get his panties in a twist," another more feminine voice said with a snort sounding a bit closer than before. Clint felt the tension spike in Natasha's body and her entire figure went rigid. He cautiously placed his hands on her back asking her what was wrong with his eyes. She refused to look at him and continued to listen to the conversation occurring behind them.

"Are we going back to the compound soon?" the man asked in exhaustion. They heard the woman scoff in annoyance.

"_No. _Are you stupid? We have to scout the entire area before Castro will even let us step _foot_ back in his grand domain of gunpowder, metal and sweaty Colombian laborers," she muttered darkly – definitely not sounding pleased. Clint was starting to really get alarmed by the way Natasha was gripping his shirt – he didn't quite think it was voluntary because he could start to feel the blood stop circulating down his arm. He couldn't even say anything because she still had her hand pressed firmly against his mouth.

"Elizaveta you really need to tone down the hate before you get yourself killed," the man said warily. They heard a loud _smack_ in response to his statement.

"Owe! Really you Russians are so fucking _violent_," the man muttered irritably. Clint felt the colour drain from his face.

She was _Russian_.

"Shut up Dmitri! The only reason I'm even here is because I fucked up an assignment and need to pretend I'm dead before my handlers figure out what happened," she said angrily. They heard the man sigh. Clint froze - Natasha wasn't the only tense one anymore. _Handlers_?

"So you came all the way out here to get away from them eh?" he said quietly. There was silence for a few moments.

"Nowhere is far enough. At least they think I'm dead. There is an _idiot_ out there named Natasha Romanoff who is flaunting her side switch in their faces. She's working for SHIELD completely out in the open and is going to get herself _shot_ _down_ soon," Elizaveta said darkly. He watched Natasha slam her eyes shut and clench her jaw. He felt like shooting himself for not realizing what danger Natasha was really in for turning her back on the Red Room and actually succeeding in getting away with her life.

Fucking bastards.

"Why haven't they come after her yet?" Dmitri asked cautiously. Clint suddenly tensed and stared at Natasha dead in the eye. She silently stared back at him with a warning look.

That was a good question.

A _very_ good question.

"They have. She already killed like 6 of her tails in the last 8 months. Whenever she's alone they try to take a shot at her. She's always faster though. She's good at her job – that's the only thing keeping her alive right now," Elisaveta said with begrudging respect. Clint instantly tightened his grip around Natasha's waist and she tensed against him. She could feel dangerous anger coming off of her partner in waves - the murderous kind.

Clint felt like he wanted to shoot her _himself_.

"Makes you wonder what the handlers are going to do to little Natasha once they get their hands on her though. Eventually they are going to stop sending her the shrimps and come after her _themselves_. No one ever leaves their little project – at least not alive. They'll come for her eventually. Probably stick it to her really good before they leave her broken body to die in some dark alley in the middle of nowhere," Elizaveta said heartlessly. Natasha felt Clint's body instantly jerk forward as the anger flared up inside of him and she promptly stomped down on his foot telling him to calm the fuck down and _listen_. He was already pulsing with rage and he didn't even know the whole story. Over reactive _bastard_.

He whipped his eyes to hers and glared piercing angry daggers at her. _Oh shit._

He was _pissed_.

For once it was Natasha who was going to burn under his rage.

**A/N: And so Natasha ends up getting the heat from Clint's anger. Epic argument coming. Along with some other unforeseen complications. And possibly something you've all been waiting 70,000 words for ;) WOW this is a long story. LOL but all my stories are usual long. **

_**Dare: I dare you to outrun me – but I don't really want to. I'd rather run with you. **_

**See you tomorrow! **

**Review and let me know if you like their changing relationship :) I know it's not moving fast but be patient. They are stubborn hard core assassins for crying out loud. Not star crossed lovers...(eh…yet?).**


	27. Chapter 27

**I dare you **

**A/N: EPIC BATTLE! AND YOU GOT TO WAIT FOR THE OTHER STUFF SORRY!  
**

**Chapter 27 **

Natasha and Clint silently glared at each other for what seemed like hours. She was going to kill him for nearly giving them a way and he was going to kill her for _lying_ to him for all these months.

And she had the _audacity_ to accuse him of being a liar in their partnership.

She nearly fucking _stabbed_ him while he was already dying from her nearly fatal shot that broke his damn ribs.

And now she ends up being the damn liar _herself_?

_Fucking coldblooded Russian monster!_

He wanted to freaking _strangle_ her.

"Let's circle the area once and then go back down okay?" Dmitri muttered in irritation completely unaware about the mounting tension between two world class assassins 10 feet away from him who were seconds away from _murdering_ each other. Elizaveta sigh exasperatedly - equally unaware.

"Whatever. You're so _cranky_ Dmitri," she said as they heard their footsteps fade into the distance. They heard Dmitri scoff.

"Right back at you - you Russian pain in my ass," he shot back. They both held their breath for several minutes pressed up against each other waiting to make sure they were well and truly alone. The tension was so high between the two assassins it was going to snap any second now. Both of them continued to stare at each other with all the mistrust and hatred flaring up between them. Their hands were itching to grab their guns strapped to their waist and just shoot the other _dead_. Point blank. No regrets.

Because she was a fucking liar and he was a damn liability.

There was dead silence for several loud heart beats.

_Thump. _

_Thump. _

_Thump. _

_Thump._

_Thump. _

_Thump. _

_Thump.  
_

_Thump.  
_

_Shit. _

And then she _ripped_ herself off of him and sprinted off like her life depended on it before he got a chance to shoot her at close range – too bad he was even _better_ at far range. She heard him _growl_ in furious rage and knew she was going to get it now.

She felt a rock whip passed her face and quickly doubled her speed. Oh he was _really_ angry. When Barton exploded he really made a show of it. It was like a damn nuclear bomb.

"Fucking get _back_ here Romanoff!" he hissed as he ran after her with eyes literally blazing in fury. She whipped her head around and stared at him in disbelief – was he _insane_?

"Why the _hell_ would I do that if you are trying to kill me?" she hissed back at him as she ducked under a tree that had fallen against a large one just as another rock came flying at her and smashed into the tree seconds after she had ducked and crumbled into a million pieces.

She didn't stop running for a _second_.

"If I really wanted you dead you would _be_ dead Romanoff!" he roared as he suddenly shot the tree in front of her with his gun and forced her to start running to her left and cut through another bush that scratched up her arms but she really didn't give a shit because she had a seriously _pissed_ sniper bent on shooting her ass.

"I'd like to see you really try! I _really_ would!" she growled over her shoulder. His eyes darkened as he simply _whipped_ his gun at her and forced her to drop to the ground and feel the gun brushed past the top of her head before it smashed into another tree in front of her. She swiftly rolled to the side and jumped to her feet ready to keep running but he was in her face within seconds and all she could think was – _well shit! _

"You! Are! An! _ASSHOLE_!" he growled before he suddenly threw a punch that she barely managed to avoid by an inch and watched his fist completely splinter the wood of the tree trunk behind her solely from the force of the impact. She tensed. _Now_ she knew why he survived all these years and never missed a target until she came along.

Clint Barton was absolutely _insane_ when he was furious.

She was well and truly fucked.

"I didn't _lie_ to you Barton!" she growled as she quickly tried to dive under his arms but he was faster as he pulled back his bruised fist, grabbed her around her waist and slammed her into the tree he just punched the living daylights out of. She ignored the black spots that danced across her vision as she glared at the furious face of her partner inches from her own.

"What the _fuck_ was that then?" he roared holding her in place. Natasha glowered at her angry partner and knew she could just shoot him right now and be done with it. Her gun was in reach and he really didn't look like he gave a shit that she was still armed. In fact he just looked like he wanted to beat the _shit_ out of her.

But she wasn't going to kill him until he damn well knew she didn't lie.

"I didn't lie Barton! I just didn't _tell_ you!" she shouted at him. His eyes darkened.

"That is the _same_ god damn thing!" he shouted back. She struggled against his iron grasp and glared at him.

"No it's _not_! My enemies are far from few Barton! You have _no_ right to get this pissed at me for not telling you about a few pathetic attempts at shooting at me from amateur assassins!" she growled in frustration because she had _no_ idea why he was this mad. His eyes turned to steel and nearly burned a hole through her head faster than a bullet could.

She really shouldn't have said that.

"No right? No _right_? Are you _shitting_ me? I deserved to know Tasha! I deserve to know when my partner has a death threat hanging over her head and is fighting to stay alive god damn it!" he bellowed angrily slamming her wrists against the tree and probably leaving angry red bruises where his hands were painfully gripping hers. She shot him a burning look.

"I'm _always_ fighting to stay alive!" she shouted angrily. She can't _believe_ this bastard! Clint narrowed his eyes.

"This is different! This is serious _shit_!" he snarled. She suddenly cracked. She wanted to _hit_ him!

"Why do you care Barton? There are hundreds of people who want us dead out there! The Red Room is just one of many from my past and there will be hundreds more in my future! Why the _fuck_ are you freaking out so damn much?" she demanded. She needed to know what the _hell_ his problem was. He gripped her wrists tighter as something dangerous flashed across his eyes.

"That's the whole point Natasha! I _do_ care!" he shouted heatedly. Natasha felt his words echo in her ears and screw with something in her chest for a moment before the anger came rushing back. She froze but then narrowed her eyes.

"Don't think just because we are something like friends anything has changed Barton. Nothing has changed!" she hissed dangerously. He shook his head in disbelief.

"Liar! You are such a fucking _liar_ Tasha! When we stopped being enemies and put down our guns things changed Natasha! When we stopped being strangers and started being two people who are the only ones who can keep each other alive things changed Tasha! When we became more than just partners and real friends things changed again! That's what relationships are about! They _change_ Tasha!" he growled forcing her to keep looking at him and his burning gaze. She clenched her jaw and forcedly tugged at her trapped wrists but his grip was like steel.

"I don't _DO_ relationships Barton!" she screamed at him. Anger flashed across his eyes again and he growled.

"Then what are we Tasha? Tell me! Who am I Tasha? Who am I to you?" he demanded angrily. She clenched her jaw and refused to answer. He narrowed his eyes. He wasn't going to take her silence today. He wasn't going to let silence be her answer - _ever_.

"Am I just someone you're using to stay alive? Am I your coworker? Am I really your partner? Am I even really your friend?" he asked shaking her forcefully. She continued to glare at him with her stony silence. He wasn't going to stop.

"Don't you trust me Tasha?" he asked in a strained voice needing her to say something. She felt her resolve crack.

"Trust has _nothing_ to do with this," she growled. He clenched his jaw.

"It has _everything_ to do with this!" he growled back. She stared at him in utter disbelief.

"_WHY?"_ she demanded.

"Because _nothing_ works without trust Tasha! None of this is going to work!" he shouted heatedly. He saw something flash across her eyes and felt her start to shake against the tree he had her shoved up against.

"We were never _meant_ to work!" she shouted as she slammed her eyes shut. He shook his head in disbelief.

"But we _did_ Tasha! We still do Tasha! You just have to stop pushing me away damn it!" he pleaded and suddenly all his anger was gone and that was scaring the _shit_ out of her even more than his blinding rage.

"I-I don't know what you want from me Barton," she whispered in a faraway voice. Clint sighed and felt all the negative emotion drain out of his body. He was exhausted from being angry at her.

"Just stop hiding things from me Tasha. Stop fighting the world all by _yourself_. You're not alone anymore Tasha. You're never going to be alone again because we are going to be the best damn partners the world has ever seen and I am going to do my damn hardest to make sure nothing get in the way of our partnership Tasha – including _us_!" he said firmly with so many promises in his voice. She could see the true in his eyes but that didn't mean he could keep those fleeting promises.

Promises were meant to be broken.

"But what happens if you're wrong Barton? What happens if we fall apart?" she asked unsteadily.

He grasped her by the shoulders and was going to tell that they had to try, that it didn't matter what they were up against, that their partnership was something worth fighting for - but he couldn't tell her any of those things because the next thing he knew his vision was rapidly going in and out of focus and he felt like someone was bashing his brain with a baseball bat and filling his lungs with water. He suddenly couldn't hold his own weight up anymore and instantly crashed to the floor with a groan and covered his ears.

"…_Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,_

_And this be our motto, "In God is our Trust,_

_And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave,_

_O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave..."_

Who was singing the damn national anthem in his ear?

Natasha blinked as she stood there plaster to a tree. _What just happened?_

"Barton…what are you doing on the ground?" she asked slowly. He blinked rapidly on the ground and sluggishly glanced up at her with unfocused eyes.

"You're pretty," he said suddenly in a rather innocent voice. She blinked again.

"_WHAT_?" she shouted in utter confusion. They were _just_ having a life threatening argument!

"Why is your hair suddenly black?" he asked grabbing his head as the world spun around him and funny colours danced across his vision. She stared at him in disbelief. What the hell?

"Barton stop _messing_ with me damn it!" she growled at the frantically breathing archer who was rapidly starting to turn red and shake in place. She froze when she realized he wasn't acting – you can't fake a fever like this. She knows – she's tried before.

She finally noticed the angry red rash growing on his arm and tensed as she identified the symptoms immediately from past experience. Her eyes shot up to his glazed over ones and she clenched her jaw in anger.

"Of all the plants you had to get scratched with you chose to get scratched with the one that was filled with damn NERUOTOXINS THAT CAUSE HALLUCINATIONS?" she shouted before she promptly slapped him across the face and watched him black out.

THE _IDIOT_.

She officially _hated_ the amazon and its deadly toxic vegetation and annoying beasts.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**A/N: Well that was a bigger argument then I was expecting to come out of them. The end of it was just too much. Damn they fight so damn much and so damn hard.**

**FYI: Clint Barton can be scary if he wants to be. Damn. **

**They are seriously crazy. Seriously there is something wrong with the way their relationship works. ha ha. **

**Anyway wonder what a drugged Clint Barton will do and say? ;) **

**Possibilities. Possibilities. So many possibilities. **


	28. Chapter 28

**I dare you **

**A/N: It's not exactly how you would picture it happening – but it's going to happen. And you're going to like it ;) until you won't. Then you'll want to kill me. And I'll laugh at you all because I am evil like that. This message will make sense at the end. **

**Chapter 28 **

The second Clint was out Natasha knew they were going to be cooling their heels for at _least_ the next few hours. There was no way they could enter the compound with him like _this_. She didn't even know what to call this.

Frankly she didn't even know what she was doing anymore. And that was a scary thought because she _always_ knew what she was going to do next. She never regretted her decisions and locked away all the self-hatred she has bottled up inside due to some of the more messy, more horrifying, more drenched in red assignments she had to do in the past. There isn't a lot of things she hasn't done. There were few horrors about life she has never seen.

Sometimes, before all this shit with switching sides happened - she used think her life and the robotic motions she used to go through was a horror show. She used to think she was starring in some shit thriller where the main character is bound to end up dead in the end. She used to be so much more careful about what she let through and what she kept under lock and key - but she had gotten _unbelievably_ sloppy over the last few months. Because she had let Barton see _way_ too much – but somehow she wasn't dead yet.

Because now no one cared if her mask was perfect or not. No one watched her every move or analyzed every decision she made while on the job. Whether the target was decapitated or not never mattered before - it was always; were you seen, were you caught, were you suspected at all?

Now there were no more questions that had looming consequences that made you wish you were dead instead. If her boss wasn't happy oh hell she would _know_ it. His punishments were just as effective and left her itching to punch his only working eye - but she never did because Fury was nothing if not fair. Even though she didn't deserve to be treated with fairness. Not after everything she has done.

And yet for some unfathomable reason in this job she was allowed to feel anger, and annoyance, and actually _like_ her insane partner that had one hell of a temper when truly and utterly pissed off. She had a feeling Clint Barton rarely got that mad. Under all the bravado and sarcasm he was tightly under control all the damn time. He was playful but he knew where he was and what he was doing at all times.

Except apparently when he found out she was maybe kind of lying to him. Apparently that was enough to cause the usually controlled bastard to flip his shit.

The second she was able to calm down from her insane adrenaline high she crouched down to wrap a strong arm around her unconscious partner's waist and drag him towards a small cave-like cavern she had noticed on the tracker. It took her a good 10 minutes of awkward and exhausting dragging but when she finally caught sight of the damn rock enclosure she was so damn relieved.

Because Barton weighted a _shitload_ of pounds!

The second she managed to drag his sorry ass into the cave she unceremoniously dropped him onto the cold stone and collapsed against the wall beside him. She took several deep breaths – well that was _exhausting_. What does the man eat for him to weight that much? Frankly she knew he probably ate as much as she did while on missions – next to nothing. She had a feeling most of his weight came from all the muscle he gained while on the job and all the military training he probably never stopped building on top of.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the cool stone wall. They were always in so much _shit_ she wasn't even surprised anymore. She gave up wondering why all their missions seemed to go to hell and how on earth they always managed to finish them with barely their wits still about them every single time. They've never had a mission go as planned – but they also never completely failed one either. They still had a perfect track record. Vargaras still ended up dead even though it wasn't from their own bullet. Perfect record indeed.

"_Tasha_…" she heard something annoying whine in her ear and didn't even bother to open her eyes. The idiot was finally awake.

"Just shut up and sleep off the drugs Barton," she ordered tiredly. She really had no energy left to bicker with him. She heard him shift on the ground before he suddenly rolled over and his face knocked into her thigh.

"But I'm _hot_," he whined into her hip with his nose brushing the edge of her shirt. She couldn't stop herself from snorting. Cocky bastard even while intoxicated by annoying tropical plants.

"You have a drug induced fever Barton. I think you'll be burning for a while," she said flippantly - not babying him at all. He did this to himself the careless bastard. She heard him whimper against her leg and froze. Damn.

"What do you _want_ Barton?" she asked rubbed her forehead in irritation.

"_You_," he breathed against her skin. She stopped breathing. Oh _shit_. She promptly got a hold of herself and shook her head.

"You don't know what you're saying Barton. Go to sleep," she muttered as she slammed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose. This was not happening right now. This was _so_ not happening now. Her eyes flew open when she felt his hot fevered face leave her side and suddenly got a face full of sweaty, breathless, drugged induced glaze eyed Clint Barton. _Well shit._

"I want you Tasha," he whispered intensely with his blue eyes darkened with undisguised desire. She froze – oh she knew exactly what he was about to do. She promptly covered his mouth as he lunged forward and kept his away from hers while giving him a warning look.

"Too bad Barton you _can't_," she said firmly. His eyes grew so sad she really wanted to knock him out again so that he would stop looking at her like that. She gritted her teeth – he was such a big pain in her ass.

"But Tasha I _need_ you," he begged against her hand. If Natasha was anyone, _anyone_ else she would definitely be feeling her face start to heat up involuntarily. The man was just too _much_. But she was the Black Widow and this was _pathetic_. She would _never_ admit in a million years that it was working though.

This wasn't even seduction. This was just _desperation_.

"Barton you need _calm down_," she said forcefully trying to keep her _own_ damn body under control. Utter _betrayal_ was happening right now as she started to feel something warm pool in her stomach. Oh fuck. He didn't even back down for a second and suddenly she felt burning hands gripping her hip tightly. Oh my _god_.

"Tell me you want me too Tasha," he pleaded against her hand with such intense yearning in his eyes she was starting to doubt it was only the drug in his system that was talking. Shit.

"Oh god no. We're not doing this Barton. No way in hell we are doing this," she said growled as she frantically shook her head as she felt her breath start to come out uneven. This was _bad_. Distraction time.

"Are you thirsty?" she asked quickly before he could start trying to kiss her again. He pouted as she held his face away from hers but nodded. She gave him a pointed look while he just stared back at her with intense dark eyes that held dark promises she had a feeling he would _definitely_ follow through with if she let him. Her hand started shaking.

Shit. Shit. _Shit_.

"_Stay_," she said warningly. He suddenly gave her a lopsided grin and she felt her chest clench – aw crap this was worse than she thought.

"Woof," he whispered as he watched her with heated eyes as she pulled away from the wall and shoved him away from her so that she could crouch down on her knees and find one of the water bottles she had packed in her backpack. She turned away from him because she really couldn't look him in the eye right now without exploding and starting something she was going to regret. She paused as she listened to his next comment.

"It is weird that there is a river flowing on the ceiling…?" he asked suddenly sounding very confused.

Natasha sighed heavily as she realized the true extent of her partner's hallucinations. This was going to be one _long_ waiting game. All she could do was sit and wait for the fire of the natural drug to fade from his system. Then they could finally finish their mission and get the _hell_ out of here. And forget _any_ of this happened. She _definitely_ wanted to forget any of this happened.

"_Tasha_…" he whispered breathlessly from behind her and she tensed – because she knew what it meant when his voice sounded like that. Oh god not again. She quickly spun around to try keep him from doing something stupid but she was too late and the next thing she knew she was being dragged forward smashing against his burning body and his mouth slammed down on hers with drug induced passion. When the _hell_ did he get that fast?

She froze as he buried one of his hands in her hair and passionately kissed her with all the heat he had rushing through his veins. She felt his other arm snake around her waist before he suddenly spun them around and roughly slammed them both against the cave wall. She felt him firmly brace his forearms against the rock as he pinned her in place and she suddenly felt herself unwillingly melt into the kiss because it was a _damn_ long time since she has been kissed or even remotely felt the heat of any man in 8 _months_.

She stopped trying to struggle against his iron hold and instead let her hands travel up his lean and rough body to grip his hair tightly – nearly to the point of discomfort. She smirked against his lips as he groaned in something that sounded like pain intricately mixed with pleasure. Not a masochist _my ass_. She suddenly lost her breath when she felt his hands sharply slide down her hips and slip under her shirt. She nearly collapsed to her knees as he grazed her warm skin beneath her uniform and doubled the ferocity behind his hungry kiss.

"_Tasha_," he growled against her lips. She felt the low rumble travel through her entire body before he stole her breath away again.

Natasha has kissed a lot of men in her life but no one ever kissed her like this. No one every kissed her like she was actually Natasha Romanoff and that they actually _cared_ who they were kissing. For a second she was lost in his touch as his rough hands burned their way across the planes of her stomach and skimmed dangerously close to somewhere south. Dangerously toeing the lines they had started drawing early on in this partnership.

She felt him easily lift her off the ground and firmly pressed her harder into the stone behind her as he worked his hot demanding mouth against hers. She could feel every part of his burning body pressed up against her and it was driving her senses crazy. His chest fused to her chest while her legs involuntarily wrapped tightly around his waist and he just pushed closer. She didn't even care if she was going to get nasty colorful bruises all over her back from the way he had her pressed up against the sharp rock of the cave wall behind her. For a second Natasha Romanoff just didn't _care_ that she was enjoying herself.

And then a split second later the entire reality of the situation came crashing down on here like a bucket of ice cold water. She froze against his scorching lips and tensed as she felt his hands inch dangerously higher up under her shirt and boldly brush against the underside of her breasts. She felt a flash of heat strike through her body. She forced down an intense shudder and tried to keep the hazy lust from clouding her mind. She didn't deny that she liked the attention – she would be stupid not to.

But he wasn't in his right mind at the moment. This wasn't _real_. He wasn't really the one kissing her. He wasn't doing any of this while in control of his facilities. At this rate she was basically taking advantage of his impaired state of mind. She reluctantly reached her arm up to his neck even as he fervently kissed the breath out of her and pinched his nerve instantly knocking him out.

His overheated body went slack against hers and she let her legs fall from around his waist and easily caught him before he could crash to the ground. She gasped in a much needed breath of air as she slowly lowered him to the floor. She then slide down the wall and took a seat beside his unconscious body. She took several deep ragged breaths as she leaned her head against the stone wall behind her and stared at her ruffled clothes in genuine disbelief.

_Holy shit what just happened?_

She _no_ fucking clue.

There was a lot of things Natasha wasn't sure about in her life. Most of them revolved around where the damn nightmare she called her life was going. But she knew a few things like the back of her hand. She knew she had a red ledger that she was going to carry with her and had to atone for – likely for the rest of her _life_. She knew she was _never_ going to go back to the Red Room – not even if she had to shoot herself. And finally she _knew_ she didn't have any stupid pathetic romantic feelings for her partner Clint Barton.

She held no illusions of happily ever after and all the shit weak and pathetic little girls liked to dream about while studying in school being god damn _normal_. She was not normal and neither was whatever this was between them. She chuckled darkly. Love? That was too juvenile and fairytale-like for her. That was laughable and naive. Natasha Romanoff didn't believe in _love_ – she never did. She didn't believe in this stupid emotion that drove men and women to insanity. She wanted no part in it. It was useless and would only end up getting her killed – or worse.

But that didn't mean she didn't know about her growing attraction to the expert archer. It was _always_ there. She _always_ knew it was there lurking at the back of her mind taunting her control whenever he got too close. She knew her body extremely well and no one ever made her burn the same way he did. There was a very real and very _dark_ attraction between them that only seemed to get stronger as time passed. It was dangerous to their partnership and she _knew_ it. She was cruel and distant with him for a reason. She kept him at arm's length for a reason.

Back when she didn't trust him _one_ bit it was easier to ignore. It had been easier to just pretend he was another useless male high off testosterone. It was easier to lie to herself and convince herself she didn't want a man like him. But as time passed it got _hell_ of a lot harder. She had started to grudgingly begin to trust the intense blue-eyed SHIELD agent who fell into her life and after many months of persistence made her hostility towards him start to fade _unwillingly_.

Natasha Romanoff _never_ wanted men the same way they always seemed to want her. She didn't even _like_ men. She thought they were disgusting pieces of shit that didn't know what to do with themselves and used their preconceived superiority to push woman around. She never felt the fire that races through your blood when you locked eyes with someone else. Never. Not until she met Clint Barton – and it was a heady feeling _finally_ wanting someone for the first time in her life.

These last few days were the worst. Because she knew if she tried she could have seduced Clint Barton a long time ago. She nearly did a couple times over the last few days. He may be good – but she was _better_.

She glanced down at her unconscious partner while still out of breath from their actions from a minute ago before she firmly and defiantly shook her head.

But there was no _fucking_ way it was going anywhere. No god damn way. Because he might not know it but the fact that she didn't consciously _want_ to have a physical relationship with him no matter _what_ shit her body was saying means a lot more than if she _did_. She has slept with so many faceless men in her short life it was disgusting how little sex meant to her. It was nowhere _near_ what they had right now. His companionship meant a lot more. His damn _childish_ friendship meant a lot more. Their _entire_ partnership meant a lot more.

Which meant she was _never_ going to tell him about this kiss because she was damn sure he wasn't going to remember anything when he woke up from his hallucinations. She would take this moment to the grave.

Clint Barton was not one of her targets. He never was. He had his own distinct category separate from all the other men in her life. The only man she ever labeled as off limits in her entire life.

He was going to damn well stay that way. Attraction be damned.

.

.

.

.

**INTENSE**!

**A/N: Well. We all know she's not going to keep that denial induced bed full of lies up forever. But she's going to try damn well hard and she is extremely stubborn. But at least we now know she always did have the hots for Clint right? Even though she is really good at ignoring it. Better than him. **

**Oh and DRUGGED CLINT WAS CUTE! **

**lalalaalala – not their **_**real**_** all parties are in their right mind first kiss but it's not the right mission for that so this is a nice consolation prize right? **

**By the way – in my mind everything is T rated other than you know…**_**that**_** one moment. This is going to stay a T rated fic because it is a mission oriented story and I don't want to ruin it with my **_**horrible**_** smut writing skills. I hope you guys aren't too disappointed. There are a lot of other sexy things they can do as they beat the shit out of bad guys and learn to trust each other more and run away from their feelings blah, blah, blah. **

**Thank you for reading! Review and let me know what you think! **

**WAS THIS WORTH 75,000 WORD WAIT? XD **

**I promise it will get better when they actually start developing feelings. Feelings always make things more risky and more dangerous. **


	29. Chapter 29

**I dare you **

**A/N: Eh…angst. Also slightly painful. Scratch that - really painful. Really this story has a lot of mental anguish in it. **

**Chapter 29 **

Natasha sat beside her unconscious partner for the next 4 hours with her head buried in her arms and her forehead leaning against her knees. She hasn't moved an inch since she sat down and took up that position. It's been hours since he has either. The sun was an hour away from setting and they were running out of time.

But she didn't do anything except keep staring at her wrists resting against her knees with the familiar hand prints displayed there on her skin. She knew she had some nasty painful bruises on her back as well - but she didn't try and patch herself up. She was too busy thinking about what the hell she was going to do if Barton actually wakes up with his memories intacted. She clenched her fists.

If he remembered he was going to freak out and possibly cause himself a heart attack. She was sure he was going to be dramatic and do something stupid – he does stuff like that. But if he _didn't_ remember she was going to be a liar again for keeping it from him. She clenched her jaw – because she was _never_ going to be the one to tell him that was for certain.

On top of all that she was _angry_ – the silent simmering kind. She wasn't angry at Barton – he was drugged. He had no say or control over his actions. She was furious at _herself_ for letting things get that far. She needed to get a handle on the shit that was storming inside of her because otherwise she was going to blow up at him when he _did_ wake up and screw their entire partnership over with a few well-placed words. What happened shouldn't have happened – and she was _this_ close to bolting out of this cave and running as far away from this man as possible.

Because Natasha Romanoff wasn't scared of anything. She wasn't scared of anyone. She wasn't even scared of death. But she _might_ just be scared of the storm that was raging inside of her at the moment. She might be on the edge between being unease and downright terrified of the reason behind the conflict she was feeling.

Shit she was scared she was feeling something at _all_.

She heard something shift in the still air around her and tensed. Waiting time was over. It was time to face her reality, the truth and lies she chose to believe. Life was one gigantic lie anyway - why wasn't she allowed to believe in some of her own?

She heard a familiar groan - but it sounded more real by the second.

"Natasha - what the hell _happened_?" she heard a rough voice croak from the ground. She didn't dare look up at him from her spot curled up into a ball beside him.

"Do you see a river on the ceiling Barton?" she asked carefully still staring at her wrists. Clint rubbed his aching head in pain and gave her a confused look and glanced up to stare at the dark unmarked ceiling. Nothing.

"Why would there be a river on a cave ceiling Tasha? Actually…why are we a cave at all?" he asked furrowing his brow in confusion as he slowly took in the unfamiliar environment. Weren't they arguing in the middle of the forest before he blacked out for some reason?

She suddenly tensed as slammed her eyes shut.

He didn't remember.

It was a good thing - but for some reason it hurt like _hell_. He noticed her unexpected reaction and was instantly alarmed.

"Natasha! Natasha are you okay?" he asked slowly reaching out his arm to place it on her shoulder but she _really_ didn't think she could handle him touching her right now and acted purely on instinct.

"Don't _touch_ me!" she hissed immediately jerking away from him. He instantly froze in place as he watched her rapidly shut down. She tensed. Shit. She knew she just gave him the wrong impression. Shit. Shit. Shit.

He was about to asked her why she was acting so funny when he noticed how much darker it suddenly was. His eyes shot out of the cave and he noticed the position of the sun in the sky. He was out for _hours_. He glanced down at the anger red but fading rash on his right arm and tensed as he started rapidly connecting the dots. He finally glanced back up at his guarded partner and his eyes darkened.

"What did I do Natasha? What did I do?" he asked dangerously. He would never be able to forgive himself if he hurt her while he wasn't in control of himself. She gritted her teeth and shook her head.

"Nothing – you didn't do anything," she said tensely. He glared at her – she was _lying_.

"Natasha you're lying again. You have to tell me what I di-" he started to demand but froze when he noticed the angry bruises around her wrists. "Natasha…Natasha why do you have bruises on your wrists that look like my hand…" he asked carefully. She tensed. Well this wasn't going as she had planned.

"Don't worry about it. You accidentally did that before you even passed out," she muttered looking away. He felt a sudden dread start to fill his body. Utter terrifying dread. The silence that followed her curt statement only led to his inevitable question. Clint didn't think he would survive her answer.

"What did I do after I passed out and before I woke up now Tasha…? What did I do?" he whispered in honest to god fear in his voice. There was _nothing_ that scared him more then not being in control of himself. Nothing. She shook her head and quickly tried to stop wherever he was going with this.

"You did _nothing_ Barton. You were your standard annoying self. Except you were talking about crazy shit like rivers on ceilings and thinking I had black hair and just passed out after a while," she said steadily. She was proud of herself for not allowing her voice to shake at all. But he wasn't paying attention to her voice – he was staring at her hands. She glanced down and froze – _oh shit_.

"Then why are your hands shaking Tasha…?" he whispered with panic rising in his tone. Her eyes whipped to his face and she read _exactly_ what he was thinking.

Oh _fuck_.

"Barton it's not what-" she started to immediately shoot down his dark thoughts but she was too late because he was already talking over her.

"Natasha…oh my _god_ Natasha. Natasha tell me I didn't…tell me I didn't-" he whispered frantically as the terror starting to drown his mind in horrifying images of what he could have done while he was drugged. How he could have hurt her. How he could have broken her. How he could have forced her to do things she would never want to do. He suddenly started breathing rapidly as a horrifying buzzing started ringing in his ears and he nearly passed out again. He couldn't take it if he did something like that. He would never be able to live with himself. He would honestly lose his mind right now. He would shot himself before he ever even _looked_ at her again. He would – he would -

Natasha stared at him in alarm as he literally started going into another panic attack just like on the train in Spain. _Oh shit._ There goes her resolve not to tell him exactly what happened because obviously what _he_ was thinking was _so_ much worse.

"Barton! Barton calm _down_ damn it! It was just a kiss Barton! We didn't _do_ anything!" she shouted angrily. He froze. He finally took her in- her rumpled uniform, her messy redhead, her still shaking hands and he _knew_it wasn't just a kiss. Whatever he did was more than just kissing. He starting shaking himself as he stared at the bruises all over her body and then he completely broke down and fell to his knees in front of her.

"God I am so sorry Tasha! I'm so _sorry_!" he said nearly bringing himself to ashamed tears. Natasha leaned back against the wall and watched one of the strongest men she has ever met about to kill himself over what he didn't even do. He was losing himself for a girl that doesn't even deserve this kind of honourable shame. Natasha shook her head slowly.

"Barton you're overreacting..." she said cautiously. He didn't seem like he heard her. He was lost in his apologies.

"Shit! I-I didn't mean to force myself onto you Tasha! You don't need that! God you don't need another useless man lusting after you in your life. I'm so _sorry_!" he said running a panicky hand through his hair. He was still going at it and she just wanted him to stop talking before he really _did_ shoot himself. Because his intense shame was killing her. Because no one has ever reacted to hurting her like this – accidentally or not. It was _scaring_her.

"Barton!" she growled in frustration trying to get his attention but his eyes were glazing over not with the remnants of a drug but his own intense emotions. He was shaking his head and staring at her with wide terrified eyes.

"I don't want it – I didn't want this Tasha. I didn't mean to force you into anything Tasha. Oh my god I'm such a bastard. I deserve to get shot. You should shoot me Tasha. Right now. Please shoot me Tasha. Please shoot me," he begged in complete honesty. He wanted to die. He couldn't live knowing that he hurt her. Natasha backed away from him in utter horror.

"_Holy shit_ shut up Barton!" she shouted at her insane partner. He shook his head and suddenly shoved a gun into her hand. She stared at it in utter terror. She has never been scared of holding a gun in her entire _life_ – until today.

"Shoot me Tasha! Please!" he pleaded. She dropped the gun like it was on _fire_.

"NO!" she shouted angrily as she kicked the gun away from them so he couldn't shoot himself either. He continued to stare at her with terrified eyes. The source of his terror was himself and what he couldn't remember he did or did not do.

"I'm so _sorry_. I'm just so sorry. Please forgive me," he begged staring at his hands and not knowing what to do with them. Natasha has never been more scared in her entire life then right _now_.

"Clint! Clint _stop_ it!" she growled as she grabbed him by his shirt and shook him. He didn't stop apologizing – not for a second.

"I'm sorry Tasha. I'm sorry," he whispered brokenly. Natasha finally realized she was losing him because there was nothing she could do to prove to him that he wasn't a monster or that he hadn't hurt her when he couldn't remember. So she did the last sane thing left to do. She tightened her grip on his shirt and dragged his unresponsive body practically on top her before she smashed their lips together.

He froze as she kissed him harshly and with as much force as he did while drugged several hours ago. She poured all her anger and all her passion as well into the kiss. He frantically tried to pull back but she brutally locked his head in place with her iron grip on his hair and forced him to keep kissing her. She could feel the tension and the trembling in his body and tasted the fear on his lips. He was scared. He was so very, _very_ scared. She let go of his hair with one of her hands and dragged his limp hands to rest on her hips and forced him to come closer. After 10 terrifying seconds he finally stopped fighting to get away from her and hesitantly kissed her back. She sighed in relief against his lips and loosened her death grip on his hair. She was sure she must have pulled some of it out.

She quickly toned down the anger behind the kiss and slowed it down until it was softer and sweeter and something she imagined was more his style. And she thinks she was right because he seemed to appreciate the change and finally relaxed against her as she leaned against the wall with him practically lying on her. He gently cupped her face in his rough hands and _finally_ actively kissed her back without any of his original shyness.

This kiss was _definitely_ different than the one they had several hours ago. It was calmer and more painful because of what just happened before she initiated it. He was gentler with his touch as he leaned into her and buried a hand in her hair and carefully drew her closer. It wasn't as mind-blowing as the first but she definitely liked it better. Simply because she could feel him in the kiss and knew it was real. That it was really Clint Barton who was kissing her and he wasn't pulling away even though she had completely let him go now and would allow him to stop the kiss if he wanted to. But he didn't.

He kept kissing her and even though she could still feel him quivering still slightly shaken from his panic attack he was a hundred times calmer than 3 minutes ago when he was close to seriously committing suicide. She dragged her hands up and down his arms trying to calm him and get the message across that he didn't do anything wrong and that nothing that happened 4 hours ago was his fault. She brought her hand up to his face and softly brushed her fingertips across his cheek. He sighed in pleasure and she smiled softly against his lips. Everything that has happened to him should have destroyed all the child-like parts of him but yet he still had pieces left that he held closely and she knew that this was one of those pieces.

After what felt like a lifetime she finally pulled away to breath in a large breath of air but held him close so that he wouldn't run away and freak out all over again. He was breathing heavily pressed up against her and watched her with hesitant eyes. He didn't know what he was doing. He didn't know what she wanted. He didn't want anything _she_ didn't and so he waited for her to be the first one to break the silence. He left it to her to decide the direction they were going to take after this game changer moment. After several minutes of deep breathing Natasha finally broke the uneasy silence.

"It was never that I didn't want it or that I didn't like it Clint. It's the fact that it's not allowed to happen okay?" she said quietly leaning her forehead against his. He stared back at her calm green eyes with pained blue ones of his own.

"I'm still so-" he started to say but she gently covered his mouth with her hand and muffled his never ending apology – she doubted he was ever going to stop.

"These last 5 hours didn't happen. You were unconscious the entire time there was a wild drug running through your veins. When you woke up nothing happened. We are still partners, maybe friends and nothing more. You're Clint Barton and I'm Natasha Romanoff and we have a job to do," she whispered calmly but firmly. He froze as her lies washed over him. She was erasing everything that just happened between them. He didn't know if he wanted to believe her lies. He thinks he preferred the truth no matter how much it killed him to know what he did to her. She didn't like his silence.

"Understood Barton?" she asked staring at him dead in the eyes. He nodded hesitantly. He wasn't allowed to disagree with her - not after taking advantage of her. Not after being the cause of some of the larger bruises that marked her pale skin. She watched the agonizing thoughts race through his mind and tightened her grip on his shirt.

"Don't act compromised Barton. Let's go," she said pulling away from him and forcing him to let go of her waist. He immediately felt the loss of her heat pressed up against him and something painfully tugged in his chest and he didn't think it was just lust anymore. He didn't think this was _ever_ just lust.

Natasha steeled her resolve and tried extremely hard to act in control like she normally does because Barton was still _very_ unstable. They were almost out of time for their mission too. God she hated that they still had a job to do - but damn it _they still had a job to_ _do_. And she couldn't do it without him either. She just hoped infiltrating this base will be a good enough distraction from all this shit that just exploded between them. She took a deep breath and locked away every single annoying emotion she was feeling to deal with later. She _knew_ he could do the same – he had to.

"It's 40 minutes till sunset. We need to get underground in 20 and make sure we have enough time to signal our extraction. If we don't we're stuck here all night Barton. I really don't want to know what nature has in store for us in the dark so _please_ – I need Agent Barton right now," she said slowly holding out her hand for him to take. He stared at her hand for a long, long moment. They didn't have time for it but she waited anyway. Finally after what felt like ages he took her hand and she promptly dragged him to his feet. She watched an artificial calm and clarity take over his body and a forced look of focus enter his eyes– it was fake, it was _all_ fake but that was okay because she sure as hell wasn't calm and in complete control right now either.

"Ready to go Barton?" she asked carefully. He nodded even though she knew he was anything but ready to do what they had to do. But they didn't have a choice.

"Good let's destroy some missiles," she said darkly as she tugged him out of the cave down through the forest with the sun racing to set behind them.

They can lie all they want but like Clint said relationships are supposed to change and there really is only one direction theirs is going in. If there was ever a prime example of a pair of wrenched souls who were going to be dragged kicking and screaming into love it was going to be these two.

**A/N: So the infiltration beings and damn that was crazy and I don't even know how they are going to be stable enough to get in and out alive and with their sanity intact but they're going to try. **

**They are seriously under a lot of mental stress right now. **

**Btw - THAT was a real clintasha kiss.  
**

**anyway - PRESSURE! **

**Review and let me know what you thought! **


	30. Chapter 30

**I dare you **

**A/N: ACTION! ACTION! ACTION! (Obsession sorry) CLINTASHA! WOO!**

**Interesting song I listened to while writing this: '**_**Tonight I'm getting over you'**_** – by Carly Rae Jepsen **

"_I wanna smash your fears  
And get drunken off your tears  
Don't you share your smile with anyone else but me  
I wanna touch your heart  
I wanna crash it in my hands  
Make you plead and cry as you give up all the lies  
We're not lovers  
But more than friends…"_

_- __epic Clintasha song - at least for my style_

**Chapter 30 **

Natasha and Clint could feel the perspiration start to pour down their faces as they ran noiselessly through the rainforest with the red glimmer of the darkening sky overhead. She had no concrete idea where the sewage entrance was for the gigantic underground complex – however everything on her tracker was pointing them to a damn waterfall. They both came to a screeching halt as they stared at the rushing icy water barrier between them and possibly wherever the sewer empties out into the natural water exit system.

"30 minutes Barton," she said firmly while still out of breath from sprinting the 4 miles they had left to get here. They were in range of their target entrance but it was still invisible to them and they were running low on minutes. Well it was _definitely_ not on this side of the river. She glanced down at the water and he knew exactly what was flashing across her mind. He immediately shook his head.

"Can't swim faster than a 60 miles per hour current this close to the edge of the cliff Tasha. Trust me – I've tried. And failed," he said with a grimace. She didn't flinch as usual – but he could tell it unnerved her all the same that he knew this fact from experience. He was proven right by her follow up question.

"How are you still alive?" she asked slowly as she scanned the area thinking at rapid speeds but still managing to keep conversing with him – it was a commendable skill.

Then again she had 8 months to perfect it.

He shrugged and tried to figure out how they were going to cross the water here too. _Think Barton think_. He really couldn't think at 100% right now because 30% of his mind was still busy curling up in a corner and dying of shame. 20 % was going hypersensitive over every single thing his partner was doing from her calculative gaze, her stiff posture, the thin layer of sweat that coat her skin and right down to the firm grip she had around her gun. Only 50 % was left to finish this damn horror mission that had originally been disguised as a pretty scenic walk through a forest.

_Utter bullshit_.

As Natasha likes to say – this was a _shit_ mission. He finally decided to just answer her question because he couldn't come up with anything useful at the moment.

"Coulson attached a bungee cord to my belt without me knowing it before I tried. Saved my ass from being swept over the edge and literally falling and drowning to my death," he muttered – not his most shining moment. Coulson never let him live it down – but he never asked to be repaid either.

As usual Coulson was a lifesaver. Natasha scoffed as she listened to his failed mission story.

"How many people do you owe a lifesaving debt to Barton?" she asked shaking her head in disbelief. She was only joking but Barton always chooses to answer the oddest rhetorical questions.

"3 people," he said carefully. She paused and stared at the rushing water. She knew they were down to 27 minutes. She had to ask anyway.

"Who is the 3rd person?" she asked quietly. He was silent for several heart beats. She knew he was debating whether or not to tell her. He finally answered after 15 beats.

"Bruce Banner," he said carefully. Natasha instantly froze.

_Silence_.

"Genius nuclear physicist who turned into a large mutated rage initiated science experiment after a gamma radioactive accident 6 months before we met," she said expressionlessly recounting from the file she recently read at SHIELD. Clint nodded carefully without looking at her. He didn't hear any judgment in her voice – just the hard cold facts.

"Saved my ass in Rio de Jenerio a year ago - as a trained trauma surgeon in the wrong place at the wrong time but lucky for me because otherwise I would be dead or dying in the middle of nowhere," he said stiffly. Natasha gripped the gun in her hand tighter and gave her partner a calculative look. He stared back at her with a calm expression – it was still fake because she could see the cracks where he was still shaking ever so slightly. However he wasn't lying.

"No one knows where he is," she said cautiously. Clint smiled slowly. She didn't comment. Bruce Banner was suddenly added to the extremely short list of people she would make an effort not to kill – not that she wouldn't do it if she had to though. However she had the annoying feeling bullets would not work on the infamous nuclear physicist. She decided swiftly that this didn't actually matter at the moment. It would matter later however.

"Whatever. Focus Barton. 25 minutes," she said feeling frustrated that they were stuck when they were so close and running out of time. Clint suddenly froze as a thought occurred to him.

No way.

"Natasha…how classic villain do you think Rafael Castro is?" he asked slowly as his eyes traveled over to the middle of the waterfall where there was a distinct darker shade of blue comparatively to all of the other water falling over the slope. She followed his gaze and got an idea of what he was talking about.

"Well there is only one way to find out. Guess what repeat disaster you are going to do today?" she said steadily as she swiftly took out a long length of rope from her backpack. Clint stared at it warily. Oh dear god not again.

"Are you trying to get rid of me Tasha?" he asked dryly. She snorted without giving him an answer. Instead she promptly stepped into his personal space and started wrapping the end of the rope around his waist and clipped it onto his belt. Clint inhaled sharply as her hair brushed his face and he got a whiff of her unique scent of gunpowder, vodka and something distinctly her – something like the smoke of a fiery flame. He didn't breathe for several seconds as all his senses where assaulted by her close proximity and recent fresh memories of her with him flashed across his mind. Her hands. Her lips. Her skin. Her- he froze as he brought those thoughts to a screeching halt and suddenly shifted back a bit too sharply. She continued to expertly knot the rope - completely oblivious to his jerky motions or completely ignoring them. Unfortunately he would have to bet his best bow on the latter. But he could hope right?

When she was done her eyes shot up to his and he tensed at the piercing look in her gaze. Oh she _definitely_ knew what he was thinking about.

"_Focus _Barton. Don't die. Deal with shit later. Now jump off this waterfall and see if there is anything worth shit in middle behind it," she said firmly before she grabbed the other end of the rope to clip to her own belt. She then wrapped it around her hand and gripped it tightly. He gave the rope a wary look.

"Is it going to be able to hold my weight?" he asked suspiciously. She shrugged. They had no time to run a trial.

"I have no idea," she said frankly. He scowled at her nonchalance – she showed _so_ much care for his safety.

"You really are trying to kill me," he muttered under his breath. Natasha gave him a dry look.

"23 minutes," she reminded him simply. He tensed.

"Fuck," he muttered before he spun around and faced the edge.

"If I die see you on the other side Tasha," he said without turning to look at her. She rolled her eyes.

"Shut up and jump Mr. I love falling," she said blankly. He scoffed.

"Hey at least I don't have an unhealthy obsession with ris-TASHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" he screamed in disbelief as he was promptly shoved off the edge and flailing his arms as he fell passed the water rushing to the bottom of the cliff beneath him. He didn't even know if the rope was going to _hold_! He slammed his eyes shut as he waited for the doomed rip – but it never came. Instead he felt the rope tug back up and he got yanked upward before it finally slowed his descent. He inhaled rapid breaths. He was going to live – but he was still _pissed_.

"I HATE YOU ROMANOOOOOOFF!" he shouted in anger as he swung perilously close to the rushing water. She chuckled as she heard his angry curse loud and clear. Clint ignored everything around him for several minutes and finally decided he needed to calm the hell down if he wanted to get out of this alive.

"Well here goes nothing," he muttered before he gave himself a few good swings to gain momentum and flung himself into the rushing water to see if there was anything back there. He was drenched within seconds.

Meanwhile Natasha was still snickering darkly as she continued to hold his weight from the top of the waterfall. When the weight suddenly lightened she had a small smirk plat at her lips. Castro was an idiot for putting a sewage exit behind a damn waterfall. She didn't have much time to think about that though because the next thing she knew she was harshly being tugged by the rope attached to her belt and nearly tripped over her own feet. She gritted her teeth. _Oh shit._ She lost her balance when a second harsh tug pulled her over the edge and then she was falling _again_! She hated it!

Oh he was bastard _indeed_.

"BARTON!" she screamed as she fell through the sky and into the water. She couldn't breathe because of the water gushing around her for several seconds before she finally pass over to the other side 10 feet below a large circular opening that smelled like…well shit. What else was it supposed to smell like?

She braced herself before she hit the cliff wall with a loud _thump_ and got her breath knocked out of her again. She hung there for several tense seconds breathing in tense breaths before she looked up at the amused blue eyes of her forever confusing partner who she didn't even know how to deal with anymore. She really only knew one thing right now.

He was going to be okay.

"Why are you hanging around a place like this Tasha?" he asked cheekily. Natasha groaned.

"That was a _horrible_ joke Barton," she said banging her head again against the rock. Clint rolled his eyes – he knew it was. That was rather the point brilliant partner of mine.

"Alright. Alright. Don't kill anymore brain cells Tasha," he grumbled as he easily pulled her up. She walked up the side of the cliff as he supported most of her weight and took his offered hand to climb onto the ledge he was standing on. He didn't let go however and suddenly she was dragged in a bone crushing hug and could suddenly feel every part of him burn through their extremely dampened uniforms – thank god they were semi-waterproof and dried fast. But at the moment she didn't dare breathe as she was suddenly pressed up against a suddenly vulnerable feeling Clint Barton. Shit he was bringing down his walls for a second. Shit. Shit. Shit. She was about to yell at him for his stupidity but he just tightened his grip around her waist and brushed his lips against her ear.

And that was the second she knew she was thoroughly _screwed_ before the day was even over.

Well fuck.

He breathed heavily against her skin and took a deep breath.

"Whatever happens now, later today or even tomorrow promise me we'll always be partners," he whispered in her ear with a slight strain in his deep voice. She shook her head in disbelief. They didn't have time for this!

"Barton-" she started to protest and tell him that they needed to move but he pulled back and stared at her dead in the eyes with all the intensity behind his words clear in his gaze.

"I don't need anything from you except that promise Tasha. Nothing. Just partners," he whispered firmly. She felt herself catch her breath for a second as he continued to stare at her. She was not expecting this. She was expecting an angry and nasty fight about this that she was planning on winning even if she had to beat his body into the ground if necessary. She was planning on him wanting something completely different. She was planning for _anything_ but this.

What the _heck_ happened to her judgment call? How was she so _off_?

"Just partners…?" she repeated slowly as if she wasn't sure his mouth was saying what his eyes were contradicting. He was deflecting something. She could feel it. He nodded without looking away from her steeled eyes for a second.

"Just partners," he whispered in an assured tone. She was so caught off guard she didn't even know what to say.

"Okay…?" she said in a confused tone. Huh? He smiled at her softly with an odd look in his eyes that told her he knew she was going to react like this.

"Thank you. Let's go," he said softly. She froze as his lips ghosts over her cheek before he pulled away and that was when she knew he wasn't doing what he wanted – he was doing what _she_ wanted.

Well fuck him for making her thoroughly feel like shit. Damn. Damn. Damn.

**A/N: Ah Clint you're confusing tactics are so sneaky. But she is going to kill you anyway when she finds out what you're doing. LOL time to run down some sewers and burn down a villainous lair of weapons. **

**I actually wrote the next chapter already. I'll post it tonight. See you later! **


	31. Chapter 31

**I dare you **

**Chapter 31 **

Natasha glared daggers at her partner's back as their boots smacked against the wet floor and the sound echoed around the hollow walls as they walked deeper into the dark sewer. It was disgusting – plain and simple.

"You don't play fair Barton," she muttered darkly as she followed after him and scowled at the dirty slim that stuck to her boots and caused her to nearly loose her shoe. He laughed lightly.

"I'm partners with a girl who lives by the rule that she will never follow the rules," he said cheekily. She scoffed as she sped up and passed him as they continued their way into the tunnel.

"I highly doubt you follow all the rules either," she grumbled as she glanced around to make sure they were well and truly alone for the time being. Once they were in the open she had a feeling it was going to get messy.

"Only the ones I want to," he said with an odd hitch in his voice. _Only the ones made by people that matter_ he left unsaid. She didn't stop walking but glanced over her shoulder to give him a quizzing look. He raised an eyebrow in response. There was a brief moment of silence before she rolled her eyes and turned back to look in front of her.

"You're weird Barton," she said frankly. He chuckled with a slight dark edge.

"Yeah I kind of figured I wasn't quite normal Tasha," he said as he followed a step behind her. She searched for a ladder or something that would lead them down towards to rest of the compound as she listened to his strange tone.

"No one is normal Barton," she said quietly. He gave her a wary look.

"No I think we're a _bit_ more different than the average abnormal," he said with a tight smile. She didn't reply after that. Instead she stopped in front of a door in the tunnel wall and turned to give him a focused and rather colder than usual look – Black Widow just _loved_ to flash in and out of their conversations he thought offhandedly. She was deflecting again.

"We have 15 minutes to find the main artillery bunker, set the stupid tech and get the hell out. And I have _no_ idea what the layout is like or who's waiting for us in there," she said blankly. He snorted.

So optimistic.

"Gasp. Natasha Romanoff doesn't know something about her target location?" he asked in dramatic shock. Her cold look turned to steel.

"I will beat your ass Barton," she said with a deadly look. He leaned forward into her personal space and gave her a suggestive smirk.

"My ass is too sexy to beat Tasha," he whispered inches from her face. Her steel look never wavered for a second – but he saw something flash in her eyes. He was disappointed to realized it was genuine annoyance and that she was about to really kick his ass. He winced – oh shit.

She swiftly kneed him in the balls and caused him to fall flat on his face. He gasped in pain as he collapsed to the floor.

"I…hate…_you_…" he croaked as his eyes watered in pain. When he glanced up Natasha was already unlocking the door and throwing it open in front of her.

"Let's go before I _really_ shoot your ugly ass Barton," she said without glancing back at him and walked _right_ into enemy territory.

She was just way too damn bold.

He shot to his feet and quickly caught up to her – she was _never_ going to leave him behind. He stayed close behind her as they walked down the dark hall that led into a room that looked like a garbage disposal control station. However apparently it was between shifts or something because no was around at the moment. She searched through the papers on the control desk and pulled out a recent looking map of the base. It was elaborate and simply _huge_. It was insane the amount of detail and planning that went into making this place.

Villains must really pay well for their guns.

She tensed as he leaned over her shoulder to see what she was reading.

"Seems like we're going to level 2 weapons storage. That should be where the bulk of the missiles are. Not bad because it's the floor right above us. However it's _really_ going to suck when we are trying to get back out though. Since pretty much everyone will be running for their lives as the places crashed down around them. I think we could do this in 10 minutes flat - oh and by the way if my ass was so ugly why do you stare at it when you think I'm not looking?" he said calmly like they were still discussing their mission tactics. Natasha nearly _ripped_ the paper in her hands as he breathed steadily beside her ear.

"_Ugh_!" she growled in frustration before she shoved passed his laughing form and out of the control room. He followed after her with a slight smirk on his face.

She didn't deny it.

She gritted her teeth and glanced around trying to figure out how they were actually going to get _in_ to that room. He watched the rapid thoughts fire through her mind and smiled softly. It was fun to watch her work – he already had an idea of what they would do but he wanted to see if she would come to the same conclusion.

"I don't think we can just waltz down the halls and into their largest weapon containment room to light the place on fire Barton…we would have to use a less obvious route…" she said steadily as she kept an ear open for any movement that would alert them that they weren't alone. She glanced around the empty hall and brought her eyes back to her partner and he raise an eyebrow.

"Vents?" they asked at the same time. She scowled while he nearly burst out laughing. They both glanced up at the innocent vent sticking out of the wall 5 feet above them.

Well that was a bummer.

"How are we going to get up there and remove the covering?" he asked offhandedly. She gave him a bored look.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

The screen over the vent crashed to the floor in front of them as a gun smoked in Natasha's hand – he glanced over and noticed her expression hadn't change from the bored look she was wearing a second ago.

Damn she made him need to lose layers.

Natasha cupped her hands in front of her and gave him a pointed look.

"Go up first," she said firmly. He stared at her.

"What? No _you_ go up first," he said immediately in protest. She growled in annoyance.

"Barton you are _much_ harder to lift up at that angle so shut up and use the damn lift," she hissed at him. He blinked and then red specs appeared on his cheeks – she blinked. That was a first.

"Sorry," he muttered as he used her boost and quickly climbed into the vent. He awkwardly maneuvered himself so that he could stick his head out of the opening and hold his hand out for her. She promptly handed him the vent cover. He rolled his eyes and stuffed the damn thing behind him before he turned around to pull her up. She firmly grasped his arm and he dragged her into the tightly enclosed space with him. He promptly fell onto his back because the lack of space and she reach over his head to grab the cover and stared at it with a calculative look on her face.

"Do you have super glue or something?" she asked as she basically sat on him. He tried not to think about that too hard. He raised an eyebrow.

"Why would I have that?" he asked slowly. She scoffed.

"Cause in Spain you said you carry useful things with you," she muttered. He promptly snorted. Anesthetics were a hell of a lot different than super glue.

"I'll be sure to carry some glue next time," he said dryly. She rolled her eyes and simply propped the cover upright against the opening. It was the best they could do.

"If they look too closely it's obvious. Let's blow this place fast Barton," she grumbled as she glanced back at him with a long-suffering look. She was _sick_ of Colombia and rainforests. She can't believe she missed the sterilized tin can. It was a horrifying thought.

"Start crawling then Tasha," he said giving their awkward position a pointed look. She scowled at him.

"No _way_ am I going first and letting you stare at my ass the entire way," she hissed. He cocked an eyebrow.

"You're the one sitting on me," he said dryly. She growled in frustration because really she couldn't say _anything_ to that.

"I will stab your eyes out one day Barton," she threatened as she gave him one last glare before she started crawling over him. His eyes suddenly softened as he followed after her.

"Apparently you have a hard time shooting me, let alone doing some stabbing," he said with a distant look on his face. She suddenly stopped moving for a second and leaned her head against the cool metal.

"Stop doing that Barton," she said quietly. He gave her a wary look.

"Stop doing what Tasha?" he asked carefully. She shut her eyes for a just a moment.

"Stop…just…_please_," she said with a wince. Clint sighed from behind her.

"I'm not acting any different than usual Tasha," he said quietly. She shook her head.

"You are," she said through gritted teeth. He was silent for a few moments.

"Can you blame me?" he whispered. Natasha clenched her jaw - he was going to be thoroughly and irreversibly compromised at this point. She couldn't let that happen. She wouldn't let that happen.

So she was going to lie her ass off.

"Don't let what happened between us turn you into a fool Barton. We are going _nowhere_. I only kissed you to break even for your conscience Barton. Remember the brutal kiss was against your will you know," she said darkly staring at the vent that led them into level 2 straight ahead of her. Clint didn't even look fazed.

"If it was only for my conscience why did it change half way through into some not so harsh?" he said calmly.

Natasha clenched her fists and stared down at her watch.

9 minutes.

There was no way they were going to make extraction if they didn't do this mission in the next 3 minutes. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"We can't do this right now," she growled under her breath. The next thing she knew she was being dragged backwards and flipped onto her back with an intense pair of blues eyes burning into hers and two elbows braced on either side of her head. She tensed as she lay beneath him.

"I don't care if we miss extraction Tasha. I don't care if we are stuck here all night long. But if you're going to lie to me – please make an effort to make it even half as believable as your worst lies in the field," he said steadily staring at her with a firm expression. She glared up at him. Bastard.

"I'm not lying. I'm not the type of girl who is going to running away with some asshole and live happily ever after and all that shit. Life doesn't work like that. _I_ don't work like that. I told you I don't do relationships Barton and I promise you there will _never_ be an us. I never gave you the impression that I wanted anything from you. Never," she said heatedly. He gave her a steady look that had her entire body tense up. He was staring at her like he was hearing her angry words but seeing something else entirely.

"Then why does your body language scream that you want me?" he said simply. She tensed – oh she wanted something alright –she wanted to _smack_ him unconscious again!

"I _don't_ want you," she growled angrily. His calm expression never changed.

"Liar," he said evenly. She stared at him in disbelief.

"I don't _want_ to want you," she growled finally having _enough_ of this bullshit. He narrowed his eyes – now _that_ was a bit more truthful.

"Fine. But be prepared to keep seeing me around every single day for the rest of your god damn life because I don't give a _shit_ what you want. We're staying partners and that is _final_," he said giving her a burning look. She glared at him. He dared her to question that statement with the warning in his eyes. She clenched her jaw in response.

Utter _bastard_.

"_Fine_. Now get _off_ of me," she hissed dangerously. He casually let go of her arms and watched her growl in frustration as she spun around and continued onto their final destination. They were going to finish this damn mission and get hell out so that she could properly stomp away from his annoying pushy ass. She spent _way_ too much of her time alone with Clint Barton in tight spaces – it was draining her sanity.

_BANG_!

They both froze as they heard something that sounded like rushing fire not too far back from them. The rushing sound was getting louder too.

"What type of vent is this Tasha…?" he asked slowly. She was better at identifying these types of environments. She tensed. Shit she didn't even realize until now.

"Exhaust vent," she whispered angrily. Clint stared at her in disbelief.

"Exhaust from _what_…?" he asked in dread. She clenched her jaw.

"Missile launches," she growled as she banged her head against the metal floor. They needed to get out _right_ now and climbing out was not going to be fast enough. She took a deep breath and suddenly whipped out a small pack of explosives. Clint froze – oh god she was insane.

She was absolutely bat shit insane.

"_Tasha_…Tasha don't you dare!" he said warningly. She swiftly glanced back at him and then at the large gap in the vent in front of them. She heard the fires coming closer behind them and felt her resolve steel into place.

Oh yeah she dared alright.

"Get ready to fall and run for your life Barton," she said before she ripped the ignition spark on the pack and tossed the explosive in front of her and covered her head for the inevitable explosion that would have them crashing to the ground below. Clint stared at her in utter _horror_.

"_TASHA_ YOU INSANE IDIOT!" he shouted as he grabbed her around the waist and dragged her under him just as the explosive went off and the entire vent creaked as it broke open and they started falling from right above the weapon containment room.

They were falling from a 50 feet in the air though.

"Oh for the love of god always with the damn _falling_!" she shouted as she grabbed onto him and hoped they were not about to die.

Clint was not very optimistic at the moment because falling from 50 feet is enough to kill anyone so he was about to resign himself and Natasha to an unfortunate death when he felt his belt get snagged on something sharp and immediately stopped his descent. He frantically tried to tighten his grip around Natasha's waist but she was moving too fast and slipped right out of his grasp.

"NATASHA!" he shouted in panic as she fell but she quickly grabbed onto his pants and stopped herself from dropping the rest of the 30 feet. _Crack_. She winced and nearly couldn't breathe as an intense blinding pain shot through her arm. She thinks she's just dislocated her shoulder. _Oh shit._

They both tensed as they shifted several inches lower as the gigantic missile launcher resting on a tall platform Clint was stuck to began to perilously tip forward due to their combined weight.

"Barton…_don't_ move…" Natasha hissed with the strain from holding onto practically nothing evident in her tone. She was going to definitely start slipping soon. Either way if she didn't let him go they were _both_ going to drop and die.

Choices.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Damn. haha I'm evil. Well there is just one more chapter to this mission.  
**

**How are they going to get out of this one? **

**Find out tomorrow. Bye! (No I did not write the next chapter yet)**


	32. Chapter 32

**I dare you **

**A/N: Intense shit man. Intense. Like SERIOUS intensity. **

**Chapter 32**

8 minutes before extraction time Clint and Natasha weren't looking so good. Natasha clenched her jaw as beads of sweat started appearing on the side of her face from the pain and physical exertion she was placing on her dislocated arm. Her entire left side was pulsing with pain and she was sure she was going to start losing feeling her in arm soon. Frankly she wasn't going to last much longer in this position. Clint just looked like he was going to blow a fuse and shut down from the unbearable tension vibrating through his body as he tried to keep as still as possible because if he fell off the mouth of the launcher they were both dead.

"Tasha. _Tasha_ are you okay?" Clint asked anxiously trying to see the state his partner was in 4 feet below his eye level. He saw shit. He heard her snort halfheartedly – it came out a little bit too breathless. His anxiety skyrocketed – Natasha _never_ sounds breathless. Not when they are working in the field at least.

"What do you think Barton?" she asked with the exhaustion tinting her irritated tone as she tried to switch arms. But every time she tried to swing onto her right arm the entire launcher would dangerously rock forward. Clint tensed as he felt the slight shift. She gritted her teeth in anger. She was _stuck_. The pain in her left arm was increasing as the seconds ticked by. Clint felt her grip around his left leg loosen by a fraction. Alarms starting ringing in his head.

"Tasha I heard a crack – what happened?" he asked not even bothering to try and hide the worry in his voice. Natasha chuckled humorlessly – it was too strained for his liking.

"You worry so _damn_ much Barton," she said shaking her head in disbelief. Clint shot her an anxious look as they continued to hang perilously high above the solid ground.

"Tasha you're scaring me…" he said cautiously. She smiled tightly.

"I scare a lot of people Barton. I'm a heartless assassin you know," she said calmly as she steadily ignored the mounting pain and the burn in her arm that was telling her to let go – but she knew full well what letting go meant. She didn't think she could stop it though.

"I don't think you're heartless Tasha," he said quietly. She laughed softly. He was too nice. People like her didn't deserve such kindness.

"You'd be the first Barton," she said honestly. He felt her grip loosen even more and tensed.

"Tasha. Tasha you _better_ not let go," he said dangerously. She closed her eyes and gripped his pants as tightly as she could – not that it was much of a good grip. She felt her arm start to tremble. Well shit.

"Barton…I don't think my body is giving me a choice," Natasha said regretfully. He froze. Oh god no.

"Tasha! Tasha grab my hand damn it! Use your other hand to grab my hand!" he said frantically trying to hold himself still but reach out to her at the same damn time. She gave him a weak smile.

"I'm sorry Barton," she said with a wince before she felt her grip go slack involuntarily and she started to fall.

"Oh fuck_ no_! TASHA!" he shouted as he sharply shot forward and grabbed her by the scruff of her uniform and stopped her from falling – that was all it took to set the _entire_ launcher into to motion though.

The next thing they knew the entire metal arm sharply swung towards the ground and they both fell nearly 20 feet through the air but by some sick miracle the launcher arm locked into place 10 feet before they hit the ground. Clint jerked back and forth while still attached to the damn weapon launcher still gripping Natasha by her uniform like his life depended on it. She was breathing harshly as she cradled her dislocated unresponsive arm to her chest. She stared at the ground that was only around 7 feet from where she was hanging.

"Let me go Barton - I can make a 7 foot jump," she said seriously while still out of breath. He gave her a suspicious look.

"You sure?" he gasped as the belt attached to launcher started cutting off his blood circulation. He wouldn't be able to hold onto her for much longer anyway. She nodded jerkily – they were both in so much freaking _pain_.

"Do it while I'm ready," she said firmly. He clenched his jaw because he _really_ didn't want to break his partners legs but he thinks he was about to kill his own and reluctantly let her slip through his hands. She braced herself as she fell to the ground and landed unbalanced on her feet and rather gracelessly crashed to the floor luckily on her good shoulder. She gasped in pain and rolled onto her back.

Clint still attached to the damn machine that was causing them so much grief but saved their ass at the same time quickly took a deep breath before he swung himself and around and unhooked his belt from the end of the launcher before he climbed down the length of the tube and jumped down to where Natasha was trying to get her damn breathing under control. The second he reached her he fell to his knees in exhaustion. They just needed a second before they could finish the mission – they were allowed to have a second right?

They both gasped as they lied on the ground staring up at the towering weapons around them.

"Those are some big ass killer machines Tasha," he said while trying to find where his breath had run off to. She couldn't even snort she was so out of breath.

"Yeah I know. Gigantic motherfuckers," she muttered as she suddenly winced – clearly in extreme pain. His eyes shot to her arm and he quickly sat up with a focused look on his face.

"Tasha your arm is at a weird angle…" he said carefully. She gave him a look of disbelief that clearly said – _no shit._

They both froze as an intruder alarm went off throughout the base and they were bathed in flashing red lights.

"Shit we need to set the nanobots before they catch us," Natasha growled in frustration. Clint didn't even hear her – he was still staring at her painful injury.

"No I need to set your shoulder first," he said shaking his head. She glared at him in annoyance.

"It's okay Barton. I'm not going to dying from a small dislocated shoulder!" she growled at him. He glared back and her and held the side of his gun to her mouth.

"Bite it," he demanded. She shot daggers at him.

"We're already _out_ of time Barton!" she shouted in anger. He didn't budge and simply pressed the handle of his gun to her mouth.

"The faster I do this for you the faster I'll set the damn nanobots and the faster we'll be on our fucking way out of here alright Tasha?" he said staring at her dead in the eyes. She gritted her teeth and promptly bit down on the gun. He nodded glad she wasn't going to fight him on this.

"Good choice. I have no painkillers and no way of knowing if you fractured anything but you have no way of running with a dislocated shoulder Tasha you _know_ that. I know this is supposed to be done slower but you're right we don't have time. Lean your forehead on my shoulder," he said seriously. She begrudgingly did as he asked and he gently grasped her left arm and bent it at a 90 degree angle and tried to ignore the way her continuous flinching was tearing him up inside. He heard feet pumping in the distance and knew they had less than a minute to do this. He took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry it's going to hurt like hell," he whispered sincerely in her ear before he bent her arm toward her chest, shoved it upward and jammed the joint back into place with a loud _pop_.

Her muffled scream was going to haunt his nightmares – he swore it was. It was still ringing in his ears and making his heart pound frantically. He felt her leaned heavily against his own shoulder as she dropped the gun from her mouth and breathed in harsh rapid breaths. He gently wrapped his arms around her shaking frame and held her close even though they were running out of time.

"Come on Tasha we need to set the tiny bots. Are you okay?" he whispered anxiously. She snorted – such a worrywart.

"I'll be fine in a few minutes. Enhancers will kick in soon," she said as she continued to take deep breaths. He nodded with his face buried in her hair. She was too glad to be alive to be annoyed at him and his childish tendencies right now. He heard the alarms around them and gently pulled away. He quickly opened her backpack and pulled out the bag and dumped the damn annoying monster bots into his hand.

"Remote activated," she said as they stared at the tiny bugs. He nodded and promptly threw the damn bots into the opening in the missile launcher they had a love/hate relationship with at the moment. He promptly activated the darn things and they heard something go _boom_. The launcher instantly started being sucked inward and they watched in horrifying awe as it was completely destroyed within seconds.

"Oh that's what they do…well…RUN TASHA!" he shouted as he spun around and quickly dragged her towards the exit as the nanobots multiplied behind them and started eating away all the large metal artillery in the room. He quickly shoved open the front door that led into a busy hall and he didn't even care who saw them because everyone was going to be running for their lives in less than 3 minutes. He quickly weaved through the thin crowd as panic started rising in the atmosphere as they started to take noticed of what was happening in the weapon contaminant room.

"Barton there is no way in hell we are making extraction in 2 minutes but we need to get the hell out," Natasha muttered as they ran down the hall and rounded a corner. He knew that very well.

They both froze as they turned the corner and they stared at 30 armed guards standing in the hall down from the artillery room. Clint heard the rumble of metal crashing to the ground behind them and knew they had less than minutes before the nanobots were going to start flooding the halls. Really they honestly needed to pull a fire alarm or something to get these people out of here faster.

"Before we have an epic showdown and inevitable kick your ass – you do realize we are all going to die because this hall is supported by metal beams right?" Clint said slowly. They all gave him a wary look.

"RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! THE ROBOTS ARE HERE TO TAKE OVER HUMANKIND!" a crazy eyed engineer bolted the down the hall and crashed through little standoff between ninja assassins and puny guards. He flew off towards the exit without a care about who he was bulldozing over. Clint looked mildly impressed.

"Now _that_ guy has the right idea," he said with a nod. Natasha pinched the bridge of her nose in extreme irritation. No now they were going to do this _her_ way. She loaded her gun and gave them all the evil eye.

"If you all want to die anyway I can make your wish come true right now – otherwise get the hell out of my way," Natasha said darkly. They all scoffed and held their ground.

However the next thing they knew there was a sudden rumble behind them which made them all very wary. Several workers shrieked as they sprinted down a hall across from them with little nanobots hot on their tail. The guards all paled and instantly hightailed it in different directions. Apparently there were many exits in this massive underground maze. That left two world class assassins wondering why they even bothered.

"Romanoff?" Clint said warily. Natasha glanced at her partner.

"Yeah Barton?" she asked with equal weariness.

"Let's get the hell out of here," he said simply as he grabbed her hand and dragged her down the hall. They ran down the confusing corridors with the nanobot tsunami racing to catch up with them not too far behind. The halls were crowded with workers and there was too much panic for anyone to notice the two oddly dressed foreigners in their mists. Clint knew they all really needed to leave – like _now_. He spotted something useful and smiled.

"One second," he said as he stopped them quickly beside a corner with a red switch encased in a plastic container. He flipped the container up and promptly pulled the building fire alarm. Sprinklers in the ceiling instantly turned on and the annoying alarmed sounding through the entire compound. Natasha slammed her hand against her face. He quickly spun around grabbed her hand once again and continued to drag her down the hall.

"You are a _child_ Barton," she said exasperatedly while running beside him. He simply laughed.

"Favorite thing to do while in high school," he said cheekily. She gave him a look.

"You dropped out of high school Barton," she said warily. He flashed her a lopsided grin.

"Expelled actually. Ah but what a way to go Tasha. What a way to go," he said with a bit too much glee. They rounded another corner and stared at the ladder that seemed to run all the way up several floors and possibly to the surface. They heard metal clashing behind them and shared a wary look.

"Start climbing first Romanoff. You're wearing pants so you don't have to fear for your dignity. And hurry before we suffocate in a sea of tiny robots," he said firmly pointing to the ladder. Natasha was about to give him a piece of her mind when they heard the rushing sound of metal being cannibalized and a window shattering down the hall. She promptly shut her mouth and rapidly started climbing – live first, kill cocky bastards later.

She had good priorities.

Clint quickly followed after her and they climbed as fast as they possibly could. He made the mistake of glanced down and paled. The nanobots had reached this floor and were rising rapidly. His eyes quickly shot up to his steadily climbing partner and he hastily hammered on her calf in panic.

"Oh _shit_! Hurry up Tasha! Hurry up!" he shouted in alarm. Natasha glanced down to scowl at her annoying partner but noticed the reason behind his utter panic. Well _damn_ that was a lot of robots. If she wasn't Natasha Romanoff she would have paled too. Seeing as she was always in control she just promptly sped up and climbed as fast as she could.

"I am hurrying you bastard!" she growled. He didn't really give a shit at the moment.

"Faster! Faster!" he shouted hurriedly. She glanced up and saw a door on the ceiling of the last floor and quickly climbed faster to have enough time to throw it open. She whipped out her gun and shot off the lock and shoved it open with her shoulder with the nanobots literally on Clint's heels. She frantically pulled herself up onto the surface and spun around to tug her partner out of the hole as well. They promptly slammed the door shut and frantically glanced around for something nonmetal to block the exit. They quickly noticed a relatively large stone sitting off to the side and together they dragged it over and slammed it onto of the underground opening.

They stared at each other breathing heavily and completely red in the face from all the running and promptly collapsed to the ground in unison. They both lay next to each other and stared up at the dark sky. They _finally_ realized it was raining.

As if it wouldn't rain once while they were in a rainforest. Their luck was just _that_ shitty.

"Tasha…" he asked slowly while still trying to catch his breath.

"Yeah Barton?" she answered still out of breath.

"Are we alive?" he asked gasping in air like he was a dying man.

"Apparently so," she said dryly. He glanced at her and they shared a wary look.

"Good so I'm just going to freak out now. That is _it_! I have had enough of these insane missions! We're going to die out here in the wild Tasha!" Clint said theatrically as he rolled over and promptly slammed his face against the wet ground. She snorted. _Drama queen_.

"Stop being so damn dramatic Barton," she said still out of breath from all the running. He shook his head with a sudden serious look on his face.

"No. I'm tired of all this shit Natasha. I'm tired of being run into the ground every fucking week. I want a damn vacation," he said seriously. She paused.

"SHIELD doesn't give vacations," she said guardedly. He suddenly smiled enigmatically. She noticed the change immediately.

"We missed extraction," he said airily. She furrowed her brow in confusion.

"They'll be here in the morning," she said carefully.

"They might not be able to find us," he said mysteriously. She tensed.

"Barton are you planning to ditch your organization?" she asked dryly. He snorted.

"No Romanoff as much as I would like to I don't want to quit. I'm just seriously, seriously considering being M.I.A for a little while," he said giving her a mysterious smile. She gave him a cautious look in return.

"Missing in action is a big deal Barton," she said slowly. He shrugged.

"So?" he asked simply.

"Fury will be pissed," she pointed out. He snorted.

"He'll get over it," he said coolly.

"We'll be in a shit load of trouble when we come back," she said slowly. He scoffed.

"We're always in a shit load of trouble Tasha," he said dryly. She paused – that was sadly very true.

"There will be agonizing amounts of paperwork," she groaned. He laughed.

"It'll be worth it," he said lightly.

"Fury might be an ass and put us on probation," she said warily. He shrugged again.

"We're too good at our jobs to be put on probation for long," he said with a cocky grin. She would scoff – but he was kind of right. She finally sighed and stared up at the dark starry sky above their heads.

"So we're really going M.I.A right?" Natasha said with a small smile on her face as she leaned back against the grassy forest floor beside him. He snorted.

"_Definitely_- let's keep it that way for the little while," he said firmly.

"Why not up for another adventure Barton?" she asked dryly. Oh god he hoped she was _joking_.

"Natasha…I can't feel my legs," he said closing his eyes. She glanced down at his swollen calf and winced. When did he get that?

"Yeah we're going to have to fix that," she said dryly. A thought suddenly occurred to him.

"Hey Tasha...our two weeks until we can see Alicia will be up in 4 days right?" he said slowly.

"Yes...?" she said slowly.

"Good. Let's stay lost until then," he said with a wink. She gave him a dry look.

"I refuse to spend one more minute in this godforsaken juggle," she said seriously. He snorted.

"No one said we had to stay in Colombia to be lost Tasha. There's no one around to say anything at all," he said with a devious smirk on his face. She gave him a measured look. Sometimes she wondered where Barton developed his spontaneous reckless side of him. Sometimes she wondered why she went along with his little plans. Sometimes she just didn't care.

There was no one around to tell them what to do indeed.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**A/N: Guess who we see next chappie? Okay actually that is a lie. There is one more Clintasha chapter before THAT chapter. **

**WAS THAT INTENSE END OF MISSION OR WHAT? **


	33. Chapter 33

**I dare you **

**A/N: I spoil you guys. I really do. (It's mostly because I'm addicted to daydreaming about Clintasha myself – weird how my daydreams are obviously not very fluffy LOL) **

**Chapter 33 **

The day after the Colombia mission the extraction team sent to retrieve Hawkeye and Black Widow stared at the destruction of Rafael Castro's base of weapons - proof that the SHIELD partners accomplished their mission.

But there were no agents in sight.

"What do you think happened to them?" one of the extraction agents asked while they sat around trying to digest the situation. Nobody had an answer to that question.

"Are they dead?" the pilot was the first to finally voice the dark thoughts lurking in all their minds. They all winced. One of the quieter agents stared at the smoke clouds rising to the sky in several different parts of forest.

"I highly doubt nanobots of all things would be what caused the end of their insanely effective partnership," the quiet agent said out of nowhere. They all paused - that was true.

"So...then where are they?" someone asked slowly.

Meanwhile two random tourists dressed in normal dark coloured clothes sat silently on the backseat of a crowded and noisy charter bus that was on its way to Caracas the capital of Venezuela. One of the local hooligans was leering at the only redhead on the bus. The only brown haired man on the bus promptly shoved his gun in the _idiot's _face and the poor boy was shaking for the rest of the ride. The man leaned over to the redhead beside him and wrapped his arms around her looking like any random man giving his girlfriend a hug after defending her honour.

Yeah right she would _kick _his ass if he ever phrased it like that.

"How's your shoulder?" he whispered in her ear so that no one else on the crowded travel bus would overhear. She shrugged slightly and tiredly leaned her forehead against his own shoulder. She was too exhausted to growl at him for being so damn _soft_.

"I'll live," she muttered back. He held her more tightly against his warm body and ran his hands up and down her back before he grabbed her wrist and simply felt her steady pulse beat against his fingers. He closed his eyes and steadily breathed against her cheek. Natasha noticed all of this and knew what he was doing.

"Are you trying to confirm I'm alive for me or yourself?" she asked with a soft snort. Clint smiled calmly against her hair.

"Both," he whispered.

Several hours later two assassins were kneeling on a bed in a shitty rundown motel on the outskirts of the Venezuelan vibrant capital surrounded by scattered medical supplies and having an intense staring match. They were back to being on opposing sides. They just _never_ get along for very long.

"Let me see your back Tasha," Clint said carefully. She gritted her teeth and narrowed her eyes.

"No. I can do it myself Barton. I don't need you to baby me," she growled in a low voice. He shook his head slowly without looking away from her annoyed eyes for a second.

"I'm not babying you Natasha. I'm your partner - it's my job to patch you up," he said firmly. She shook her head and shifted away from him.

"I don't _care_. I've tended to my own injuries my entire life Barton. I don't _need_ you," she said heatedly. He tensed but didn't look away from her cold gaze. He ignored how much those words felt like she just brutally _stabbed_ him in the chest because he knows why she was saying them. It was a bit scary how well he was starting to read her.

"Tasha. I'm not going to freak out because I'm the one who caused most of your bruises okay? I know it was on accident and I know you're hurting like hell right now because you haven't stopped clenching your hands into fists since we left Colombia Natasha," he said firmly. She glared daggers at him. Bastard was treating her like glass! He instantly saw the anger flash across her eyes and shook his head. "Don't look at me like that Natasha. I _know_ you're strong Tasha. You are the strongest person I know - but you need to let me do this. I-I have to do this," he said ending with a slight hitch on his last word. Natasha gave him a calculative look and watched something that looked like guilt linger in his eyes before she suddenly sighed. So _that's_ what he was thinking.

"You're lying Barton. You're still blaming yourself for what happened," she muttered rubbing her hand over her forehead. God why was he such a pain? Why the hell does he care so much? Who the hell beats themselves over something so small? He instantly looked away from her face and burned holes into the sheets beneath them with tortured looking eyes.

"I-I can't stop feeling like that Tasha. I can't forgive myself for doing something like that," he whispered with an unfocused gaze. Natasha stared at the fading bruises still apparent around her wrists and gritted her teeth.

"God you are one stupid _messed up_ bastard Clint," she said before she shot forward to firmly grab him by his own wrists and roughly shoved his stunned body into wall behind the bed. She glared down at his confused and slightly shaken form. She pinned him in place with her elbows digging into his shoulders and trapped his bent legs beneath her own. He was effectively trapped.

"Do you feel vulnerable right now?" she said dangerously. He started breathing rapidly as she stared at him with her intense green eyes. He didn't even know if she was about to kill him or kiss him or _what_.

"Yes," he whispered. Her angry gaze didn't even waver.

"Good. Keep listening because I'm only going to say this once. You kissed me without my consent Barton - but I forgive you. You shoved me against a really sharp rocky cave wall and gave me a shit load of cuts and bruises - but I forgive you. You held my wrists too tightly and left painful bruises that look like your hand - but I forgive you. You pulled my hair too tightly and probably ripped a bit of it out - but I forgive you. My forgiveness counts more than your own right? _Right_?" she growled as she shook him. He just stared back at her with tortured eyes. She narrowed her eyes when he refused to response.

"I _know_ it does. So _take_ it and stop killing yourself Barton - because I don't need a partner who isn't sure of himself. You tell me I'm strong Barton but I'm not. I just do what's necessary to stay alive - and that means I have to always be ahead of my enemy. It means I always have to be ready for anything. And to stay my partner you need to do the same. If the hardest thing in your life is forgiving yourself you need to learn how to do it damn it," she growled angrily. He shook his head as she tightened her grip on his wrists.

"Tasha can _you_ ever forgive yourself?" he asked in a pained voice. She clenched her jaw as she stared at his hollow blue eyes that echoed the agony of a past he wasn't proud of. He wasn't talking about the cave anymore. He was talking _everything_. Everything they did wrong. Every mistake they ever made. Every shot they shouldn't have taken. Every regret they ever had. She could feel the tension in his wrists and the restraint he was using to hold himself back from trying to pull away from her - he wouldn't be able to even if he wanted to. She could immobilize him instantly if she needed to. He knew that too. She finally decided he deserved the truth for once. She didn't give it very often.

"No. No I never will. Not for a lot of things. But this? You can forgive yourself if I did Clint. And if you don't then we're done Barton. We're finished. Because that means you can't handle when things go to shit. One day something really bad is going to happen to me or to you or to both of us and if you can't handle the stress we can't work together anymore. Okay?" she said demanding a verbal answer from him. He couldn't look away from her blazing gaze even if he wanted to.

"Okay," he whispered as he took a deep breath. "Okay," he repeated again as he took another few steady breaths but never looked away from her burning gaze. She continued to stare at him while she had him trapped between her body and the peeling wall he was shoved up against. She searched his eyes and he tried to keep his walls down so that she could see he was finally being honest with her and himself – he just needed time. She finally seemed to find what she was looking before because she promptly released his wrists from her death grip and slowly pulled away allowing him to collapse to him knees in front of her.

They stared at each other for several heart beats before she picked up a damp cloth along with a bottle of disinfectant off the bed and slowly placed them in his limp hands without ever breaking eye contact.

"You can patch me up Barton," she said carefully and for some reason he felt like the weight behind those simple words was deeply significant. Natasha was always pushing him away. She was always keeping him at a distance. And he had this odd feeling – this very odd feeling that no one has ever been allowed to tend to her wounds in her entire life. He had another feeling that she wasn't just talking about her physical ones either. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he tightly gripped the cloth in his hand.

"Take your shirt off Tasha," he whispered evenly trying not to make his order sound as dirty as it really did. He knows he probably utterly _failed_ to keep all his emotions in check but she didn't comment. He listened to her silently shift around in front of him and heard the flutter of a thin cloth sliding off her body before he felt the shirt be tossed and flung over his shoulder. He inhaled sharply without opening his eyes. Natasha was always testing his control – but he had extremely good control when not intoxicated by damn _drugs_ or alcohol. Frankly the reason he was considered a rather lightweight drinker was because he hated the feeling of losing his tight control.

"You can open your eyes now," she said quietly. He took a serious calming breath and slowly did as she asked. His immediate reaction was a sharp grimace when he finally saw the real damage. Her pale skin that covered her back looked like a damn _battlefield_. She had bruises that were blue and black and cuts that were scattered from the top of her shoulder blades all the way down to her lower back.

It was hard to look at - but he kept taking it all in so that he could make sure it _never_ happened again. He also noted that all the cuts were closing and the bruises already starting to fade as if she had them for a while. As if Colombia happened several days ago instead of hours ago.

Damn enhancers. They were a curse and a blessing at the same god damn time.

"It's not all you. Some of it is from the fall in the compound. It looks worse than it really feels," she said quietly with her head buried in her arms as she lay face down on the bed. He shook his head slowly.

"Looks pretty bad Tasha. Makes me wonder how much pain you've been through on past assignments if stuff like this barely make you flinch…," he said slowly as he gently leaned forward and started washing away the dried blood stuck to her back - evidence of the countless scraps and cuts that marked her pale skin. He tried to keep the wince from showing on his face. He was in some weird place where he was trying to keep a part of himself from mentally committing suicide because he kept being bombarded by bruises that shouldn't have come from him. But then there was a different part of him that was killing him for an entirely different reason.

He mentally went and brutally _shot_ the part of his mind that noted that she wasn't wear a bra or pretty much anything above her waist at the moment. The nasty bugger still managed to stay alive no matter how many times he psychologically shot at it. Damn it why were these parts of his brain so hard to kill?

He took a shaky breath. Okay. _Now_ he understood why she never let anyone tend to her wounds before. This was like sick mental torture trying not to let his mind fall into the gutter and drag his self-control down with it. He poured some of the disinfectant liquid onto his cloth and gently applied it to her cuts. She tensed immediately and banged her head against the sheets.

"Hurts like _shit_," she muttered into the sheet. He winced.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"Not your fault," she grumbled warningly. He chuckled lightly.

"I was talking about the sting," he said quietly. Her snort was muffled by the rough mattress that was absorbing her voice.

"What do you do while M.I.A?" she asked suddenly. He furrowed his brow. What kind of question was _that_?

"What do you _want_ to do?" he asked instead of giving her a definite response. She scowled against the bed and held back a wince as he cleaned a rather deep cut.

"I don't know…" she said slowly. He gave her a wary look as he started to bandage her now cleaned cuts.

"You know Tasha you've done a lot of crazy shit in your life – but I highly doubt you've done half the fun things normal people do by the time they hit 21…" he said carefully. He felt her tense instantly.

"I didn't exactly have a choice," she said darkly. He calmly stopped bandaging her for a moment.

"I never said it was you fault," he said quietly. He felt the tense ebb away slowly as she listened to his honest tone. He could feel her thinking for a few moments as she stared at the sheets beneath her.

"Maybe I came along to find out," she finally said cautiously. He smiled softly.

"Maybe you did. Or maybe you finally want to do something for yourself for once. You may be incredibly independent Tasha – but your life has been manipulated by other people your entire life. Even if SHIELD is the lesser evil – you're not here by choice," he said sadly. He never forgot she was forced to be here.

"I _am_ here by choice," she said carefully. He shook his head.

"Getting an arrow shot through your heart or coming back with me wasn't exactly applying for this job," he said warily.

"That's still a choice," she said calmly with an odd drowsiness in her voice. She suddenly felt all the delayed exhaustion catch up with her at the same time. He ignored the lurking dark thought at the back of his head that said she had consciously made the decision that being his partner was _maybe_ better than dying. He knew she wasn't afraid of dying. There are a lot of things she'd rather die than do.

"We can do whatever you want Tasha – this isn't a mission," he said quietly. He waited to hear what she would say but got silence instead. That was odd.

"Tasha?" he asked in confusion. He glanced at her face and his mouth nearly hit the floor.

She had fallen asleep.

He laughed softly while slightly in shock and ran a shaky hand through his hair. Either she was completely and utterly _exhausted_ from not sleeping for the past 48 hours since they left SHIELD or she actually trusted him enough to fall asleep while still in such a vulnerable position. Then again nothing was considered vulnerable for Natasha Romanoff. She could still fight and beat his ass no matter what she was wearing – or not wearing. He didn't doubt that she could knock him out within seconds after waking up.

But because he was a stupid idiot who had no self-preservation skills he leaned over her after he patted down the last bandage over her back and gently kissed her on her recently injured shoulder.

"I'm sorry Tasha," he whispered. He wasn't just apologizing for hurting her anymore. He was apologizing for the life that she had to live and the choices she was forced to make at an early age. He was sorry for childhood she never had and the horrors she had to see and commit at the same time. He was sorry for all the horrible things that have happened to her over the years.

But at the same time he knew she wouldn't be the Natasha Romanoff he met 8 months ago if it wasn't for all of those things that made her who she was today. Life was a sick joke like that. You are the sum of all your past experiences and he didn't know if he would connect as well with her if she was different. He never connected well with basically anyone in his entire life before her.

He pulled back and lightly fell back against the bed beside her as he stared up at the ceiling. She continued to breathe evenly beside him – but he knew better. She was a perfect actress – but he knew her better than anyone – he had the time to.

He knew she definitely wasn't asleep after he did that because Natasha is not a deep sleeper at _all_. She continued to pretend though and he was okay with that – for now. One day she was going to have to stop pretending he wasn't there though. One day she would have to wake up and realize they were _always_ more than just partners. In his mind one day was pretty darn soon.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Assassins patching each other up – why is that sexy? WHY? XD Yes I know that was a bit angsty. The story in general is supposed to be angsty. LOL Will start lightening up the tone from the next chapter (a bit?) They are M.I.A. after all. No more missions for a little bit. But they couldn't be done with the post-mission decompression until all that was cleared up. **

**OFF TO START WRITING FLUFF NOW! **


	34. Chapter 34

**I dare you **

**A/N: So when I promise fluff – I really meant it. We're staying in character though so don't expect **_**too**_**, too much. In character means a bit of angst (tiny necessary) Oh but you will die of happiness because we finally get to see a tiny special someone after 13 long ass chapters. WOO fluff! IN MODERATION. Gosh I would get sick of writing fluff every day really fast and then where would we all be right? **

**Enjoy the rare treat!(its a long, long chapter too!)  
**

**Chapter 34 **

Several hours later Natasha slowly regained conscious to join the world of the living. She knew she was out for a little while because as she opened her eyes she felt the tight kink in her neck that told her she was lying in an awkward position for a bit too long.

She slowly glanced around the empty hotel room and quickly came to a rather odd conclusion.

Barton was gone. As in he was definitely not in the room at all.

_Huh_.

She slowly pushed herself into sitting position and carelessly dragged her formerly forgotten crumpled shirt over her head as she calmly sat on the messy bed.

Either she had finally scared him off and he had ran for his life like a sane man would at this point or he was doing something suspicious somewhere even _more_ suspicious. After working with the cocky bastard for this long she highly doubted he had a single brain cell dedicated to self-preservation in his big head and so she doubted the first option.

This makes her very wary of the implications behind the second option. Because Clint Barton did crazy spontaneous shit when he was left alone for too long. If she didn't pay attention he would manage to raid all the department stores in the area and buy all the junk food he could carry.

The man was insane. His appetite off missions was even _more_ unbelievable.

Her thoughts came to a screeching halt when she heard the familiar footsteps from another the corner however more importantly…she smelled _coffee_.

"Oh _god_ tell me you brought one for me too," Natasha said sounding _nothing_ like herself. She heard a familiar chuckle from behind her and turned around to lock eyes with her amused look partner.

"Someone is _finally_ up. It was fun watching you fake sleep – but then you went and _really_ fell asleep and I got bored," he said with a shrug. She paused and gave him a dry look. God when Barton said he was bored that was her cue to get the hell out of the same building as him. He suddenly switched gears and gave her a cautious look. "You usually don't sleep for more than a couple hours Tasha. You slept for like 5 hours today…" he said carefully asking her with his eyes what he wasn't exactly going to say in words.

"I haven't slept in a week actually…" she muttered looking away. He paused and silently processed what she was saying. Everyone suffered different levels of insomnia - especially in their field. It was hard to close your eyes and let go of your consciousness when you were always on guard and paranoid that someone was going to try and kill you in your sleep.

It was a little bit harder to deal with when that was likely true.

"We need to work on your sleeping patterns. Insomnia is honestly not good for you," he said seriously as he handed her the steaming cup of coffee he had bought just now. She took the offered drink and nearly died happily from the heavenly smell – then she froze.

"You're trying to seduce me aren't you?" she said suspiciously. Clint furrowed his brow in momentary confusion and then he nearly burst out laughing. Him? Seduce the best seductress in the world? That was _laughable_. That was just _funny_.

That was just _sad_ because he sort of wished that he could.

"No," he chuckled trying to ignore the annoying commentary running in his head. She stared at him suspiciously for another few moments before she finally just rolled her own eyes.

"Well if you were you would be doing a pretty good job…" she muttered as she sipped the heavenly mocha and nearly melted in pleasure. Clint stared at his deadly partner in disbelief and his mouth nearly hit the floor.

_That's all it took? _

"I think I just found the Black Widow's weakness…" he said in utter shock. She didn't even acknowledge the archer who was about to faint in shock.

"Shut up - don't make me get my knives Barton," she said without opening her eyes and taking another sip of the steaming drink. Damn she hasn't drunk or eaten anything in days. This was some _good_ coffee. Clint gaped at her for several minutes before he decided he needed to save his dignity before it was too late.

"You're going soft Romanoff…" Clint said cheekily. She didn't even flinch.

"Not soft at all – look down," she said causally with her eyes still shut.

He quickly glanced down to see what she was talking about and paled. She had her gun trained to his manly bits without a care in the world. He was seconds away from having his balls blown off.

She was _insane_.

"Tasha…why are you so fucking cruel?" he said with a strained voice. A smirk played at the corner of her lips.

"Why are you such an annoying chatty bastard?" she shot back evenly. He scowled at her and tried to subtly inch away from her gun.

"You're a damn beast Romanoff. By the way I kind of took a sip from that so we just shared an indirect kiss," he added as an afterthought. Natasha's good mood promptly evaporated as she open one eye and he feared he was about to get seriously maimed. He gulped and quickly inched away from her gun. She just readjusted her aim and stared at the cup in her hand.

"You a fucking child Barton," she grumbled as she gave the cup in her hand a dirty look. He scoffed.

"You know you like it," he shot back with his signature suggestive eyebrows. She glared at him with a dark look that promised she wasn't lying about shooting off his family jewels. He quickly took something out of his pocket and shoved it into her line of sight.

"I come with chocolate!" he said quickly trying to save his ass. Natasha blinked. _Oh dear god._

"You really _are_ trying to seduce me," she groaned as she rubbed her forehead. A little smirked appear on his face as he dropped the candy bar into her lap and swiftly knocked into her thin body and caused them to both fall back onto the bed with a loud _oomph!_ Natasha narrowed her eyes as he artificially trapped her beneath him. She could have used 10 different tactics to get him off of her – they both knew she wasn't _really_ trapped.

"If I was trying to seduce you things would be a lot different," he whispered in her ear in a low breathy voice. Natasha took a deep breath and promptly blanked out all her emotions. He knew what she was doing and shot her a warning look. She didn't relent at all.

"If you _were_ trying to seduce me I would have shot you already Barton," she said calmly staring up her partner's suddenly flashing eyes. Oh she hit a nerve.

"I don't know if you've realized Natasha but denial is just like a ticking time bomb. One day it's going to explode whether you want it to or not," he said quietly staring at her with a suddenly very serious gaze. She stared back with her own firm gaze. He was pushing boundaries again.

"My answer is never going to change Barton. I promise you you're wasting your time chasing after an imaginary fantasy. Grow up," she said giving him an annoyed look. Why was he acting like this? She already told him she didn't do those kinds of relationships. Clint shook his head and gritted his teeth.

"_Fuck_ Tasha don't you feel it to? Don't you feel anything at all?" he asked shaking her by her shoulders demanding an answer. She stared back at his hurt eyes and shook her head firmly.

"No," she said coldly. He narrowed his eyes when he realized she had all her walls up again. Liar – always a damn liar.

"You're lying again Tasha," he said quietly. She glared at him and clenched her jaw.

"And you want things you're not supposed to Barton. Stop being nice to me because I am _never_ nice to you. We're partners and that is _it_. Don't do this to yourself Barton. Don't break yourself," she said steadily.

"_Fuck_," he growled as he suddenly pushed away from her and dragged an angry hand through his messy hair. The utter frustration was vibrating off of him in waves. She slowly sat up and watched him clench his hands into fists.

"You don't want this Barton," she said quietly. He shot her a burning look.

"Don't tell me what I want," he growled at her. She gave him an icy stare.

"You're being stupid Barton. Forget the fact that I can't give you what you want. There are frat regulations in place Barton. You break them and you know what they'll do," she said quietly. He clenched his jaw in anger.

"I really hate you sometimes," he muttered honestly. She didn't even flinch.

"Hate is better than the other thing," she said looking away from him. He shook his head.

"You're just _ignoring_ it Tasha. Ignoring things doesn't mean it's not there," he said giving her an angry look. She didn't even blink.

"I'm not ignoring it - It's not _there_," she said firmly. He growled in frustration and swiftly turned away from her. He couldn't look at her anymore – not when she was acting like this. Natasha sighed and they sat in tense silence for several edgy minutes. He suddenly felt her shift and glanced up to watch her drop a phone into his lap and promptly told him to stop sulking with her pointed look.

"Call Coulson," she said simply. He gave her a cautious look.

"Why? He would just trace us and drag our asses back to SHIELD," he muttered childishly. He was still angry at her. She shook her head.

"No he won't. Beside you have something to ask him don't you?" she said raising an eyebrow. He suddenly froze – _oh_.

"Yes – yes I do," he said staring at the phone in his hand. She raised an eyebrow as the minutes ticked by. She may have turned him down but that didn't mean she was going to act any different than normal.

"Staring at it won't link you to our annoying handler's phone Barton," she said warily. He scowled her and quickly dialed the memorized number. Pushy beast. He held the phone to his ear and continued to coldly glare at his rather dangerous partner who calmly stared back. Once upon a time her rather cold cut attitude used to bug him a bit. But now he could understand her much better than before. He could read her much better than before. He could see past some of her barriers and he was able to make the conclusion with relatively certainty – Natasha Romanoff was changing. He steeled his eyes – but not everything changed. She was still stuck with the same stupid notions that she couldn't make any meaningful relationships with other people. He fucking hated it.

Half of SHIELD swore up and down that people like her could never change. He laughed at them then and he would stand by what he said before. Everyone deserves a second chance. However he never knew what he was getting into when he asked one of the most deadly Russian assassins in the world to put down her gun, ditch her own organization and be his partner. He just ran with what he was feeling in the moment.

He didn't regret it.

He would _never_ regret it.

He just regretted that he was feeling things faster than she was.

_Ring. Ring. _

_Click. _

"Barton you asshole - you _finally_ decided to call and let me know you're fucking alive 24 HOURS LATER?" was the first thing he heard. He winced from the volume – damn that man had a loud voice.

"Hello to you too Coulson," Clint said warily. He heard a loud huff of annoyance in response.

"What are you two doing Barton?" Coulson asked tiredly pinching the bridge of his nose. He really had better things to do then worry about his best agents falling of their radar for who knows what reason. Coulson could practically see the smirk on the archer's face.

"Why Coulson I thought you would be proud of us – we're finally growing up and leaving the nest," he said cheekily. He felt Natasha banged her head against the back of the bed behind them and held back a snicker – she was always unimpressed by his childish bickering with their handler.

"Barton you sarcasm is lost on me. If you don't want to be found fine – deal with Fury when you finally decide you're done playing runaway agents. Now tell me why you called me," Coulson said getting straight to business. Clint's playful mood slowly faded as he starred out the window with a faraway look on his face.

"Where is she Coulson?" Clint asked quietly. Coulson sighed and stared up at the tiles the lined his ceiling.

"Are you guys planning to come back any time soon?" he asked slowly. Clint gritted his teeth – he was sick of this dancing around the same god damn thing for well over a week.

"Coulson it has been a damn long time! Just tell us where she _is_ damn it!" Clint said irritably. A week and a half was already long enough. The last time he saw Alicia she was in tears. He really doesn't want that to be his last memory of her. He heard Coulson sigh again.

"She's in a gifted boarding school with a special focus on helping kids with traumatic histories," Coulson said quietly. Clint sighed and leaned his forehead against Natasha's shoulder. She just sat next to him and gave her ever silent support as his partner and his friend. She never questioned his attachment to a little girl that wasn't his. Mostly because she sort of liked the cheeky kid too.

But she was never going to tell anyone that. Natasha Romanoff doesn't _do_ kids. Barton was an adult – he could make his own decisions. Even if some of them were really stupid and pissed her off he was still allowed to make them. And she was still allowed to shoot them down.

"What country is she in? How long would it take to get there?" Clint asked cautiously.

"Pretty far from Colombia or wherever you are in the southern hemisphere I'll say," Coulson said with a mysterious chuckle. Clint furrowed his brow.

"So? That doesn't matter. I can find a way to get there easily – just tell me," he said pleadingly. He felt Natasha pause beside him and glanced at her carefully. She was stared at the phone with a peculiar look on her face.

"Romanoff?" Coulson said with a slight smile in his voice.

"She's in New York," Natasha muttered banging her head against the bed frame. God why did she not see that coming?

Clint froze in utter shock.

"SHE WAS IN NEW YORK THIS _WHOLE_ DAMN TIME?" he shouted at the top of his lungs. Hundreds of pigeons instantly took flight outside their hotel window and angrily chirped at the two agents sitting on the floor beside the balcony. Clint glared daggers at the annoying beasts.

"Oh shut up your damn birds! I hate you _all_," Clint muttered tossing the phone onto the ground. Coulson laughed at the other end of the line.

"Wanna come back now?" Coulson asked in amusement. Clint promptly crossed his arms and looked away.

"No," Clint muttered childishly. Natasha snorted beside him – _now_ he wasn't so hell bent on finding the kid anymore. She was living in his own backyard. Coulson rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. Don't make me relocate her Barton. Don't show up for 3 more days – okay? _Exactly_ 3 days," Coulson said seriously. They both paused.

"Why did we _really_ have a 2 week buffer period before we get to see her Coulson? What's going on at SHIELD's end?" Clint asked slowly. Coulson chuckled as he leaned his elbows against his desk.

"Always the sharp one Barton but never quite fast as Romanoff – Alicia had 2 SHIELD agents monitoring her progress maintaining her cover and her adjustment into her new environment. SHIELD is on my ass for keeping her so close but guess what? _Someone_ made me Lola Martinez's legal guardian. She recently decided to change her name to Alicia Martinez. SHIELD can't say _shit_," Coulson said with a devious look. Clint's mouth hit the floor.

_Coulson was still Alicia's guardian?_

"Coulson you sly, sly bastard," Clint said in shock. Coulson grinned.

"I know – her surveillance agents end their assignment and assessment 3 days from now. Chill out okay?" he said cautiously. Clint suddenly sighed. Damn he was tired of waiting.

"Fine – but don't expect to see us for a while Coulson," he said carefully while sharing a rather fed up look with his partner. They were both _sick_ of missions right now. He heard Coulson chuckle at the other end.

"Nah after hearing what happened from my end I wouldn't want to jump on another rollercoaster mission either," Coulson said dryly. Clint sighed in relief.

"We owe you Coulson," Clint said with a warm smile. Coulson snorted.

"You two owe your damn _souls_ – make sure you keep them alive," Coulson said frankly. Clint simply laughed and promptly hung up. He stared at the phone in his hand and glanced at his silent partner who stuck with him longer than anyone else in his entire screwed up life. Even if she shot him down – she was still sticking around. Damn it she was so fucking _confusing_. She messed with his damn head. And yet…and yet he couldn't ever let her go. He was going to keep pushing and one day he was going to finally crack Natasha Romanoff.

That was his lifelong promise.

"Seems like you suddenly have a personal mission Barton," she said quietly giving him a weak smile. She wasn't trying to hurt him – she just _wasn't_ at the stage where he was. She might never be. He scoffed.

"Yeah – and you better be coming along Romanoff," he said giving her a pointed look. She rolled her eyes.

For the first time in both their lives they were going to look for someone they actually wanted to see.

_2 days later. _

Alicia was sitting in the large library of her school quietly eating her lunch as she read a thick book – it was a gigantic tombstone about the history of the United States. What 9 year old reads a book like that?

She suddenly giggled while staring into the large book. Strange reaction to patriotic American history? If you took a peak over her shoulder you would find a small comic book about heroes stuffed between the pages of her fat old history book. The sneaky girl. She sighed as she read about fictional characters that don't exist in reality.

"I wish superheroes were real," she said quietly as she gently ran her hand over a masked character the reminded her of someone with sharp blue eyes.

Wait 9 years kid. You'll be surprised where they'll all come from.

Alicia felt eyes on her and glanced up and noticed a suspicious looking man talking to her librarian while his "_friend_" was idly glancing around the room. She gave him a dirty look when his eyes passed over her.

_Ugh_ the agents stalking her were still here. She sighed.

"Not the ones I wanted to see," she muttered as she went back to reading her comic.

Stupid SHIELD. She even thought about working for the shadowy intelligence agency once upon a time. Ha! Like she was ever going to do that now. They only had room for secrecy and fighting battles under the radar. She preferred the flashy in your face style. She continued reading her comic and sighed.

"I like superheroes – but why do superhero teams have such weird names?" she asked shaking her head in disbelief. She could come up with something better than Crimebusters or super globetrotters. She scoffed to herself.

"Seriously? Superheroes need more dignity then _this_! They kick butt and they avenge people!" she said to herself. She froze.

"Avengers…" she whispered in awe as she fell back on the bench she was sitting on.

"That would be so cool!" she laughed as she stared up at the ceiling. She froze as she noticed a red light flickering on the ceiling. She furrowed her brow as she the stared at the light. That was weird. It was flickering in a funny way. She froze as she recognized the flickering.

It was a damn Morse code. She quickly sat up and started scribbling out the letters she could make out from the light. She squinted up at the ceiling as she messy wrote out a jumble of characters that eventually formed 3 words. She glanced down at her work and blinked.

W. E. F. O. U. N.D. Y.O.U.

She smiled slowly and glanced out the window at the building across the street she could barely make out. She couldn't see anything – but she would bet her life there were two very deadly assassins perched on that roof. She had a feeling they were smiling too.

_1 week after the end of the Colombia mission. _

Fury was pissed.

Nobody could find even a whiff of what happened to Black Widow or Hawkeye after they blew up the god damn arms base in Colombia.

If he didn't know any better he would say they were purposely not trying to be found in that damn juggle.

_Ring. Ring._

Fury picked up his phone without looking away from the official M.I.A papers of his best field team in years. What the heck happened down there?

_Click_.

"Hey boss," a familiar cheeky voice said in greeting.

Fury nearly spat his coffee all over the missing agent reports.  
_  
THE FUCK?_

"BARTON?" he shouted in disbelief. He could practically see the grin on the bastard's face.

"After 8 months of nonstop missions with my new partner, from being blown up on a mountain, on a train, in an alley, being shot at from above and below, fighting warlords, drug dealers, arms dealers, terrorists, fucking going head on with rabid beasts, falling off bridges and cliffs and the only good thing to happen to us in our entire damned lives was meeting a brilliant kid who took my breath away. But then you know what happened right? I had to watch her get taken away while my heart got smashed into a million pieces because of my god damn _job_! _Most _people would have gone insane Fury," Clint said calmly. Fury tensed.

"What do you want Barton?" he groaned as he rubbed his face in exhaustion.

"You know Fury...there comes a time when all you want is a god damn _vacation_," Clint said with an odd grin in his voice.

"Barton don't you dare...," Fury said dangerously.

"Even better when you kidnap a couple of pretty girls to spend it with you," he said cheerfully. He felt two hands smack the back of his head but he kept grinning.

"Barton I am going to drown your ass in paperwork if you're saying what I think you are implying...," Fury growled.

"See you in 2 weeks boss," Clint said with a devious smirk before he promptly hung up.

"CLINT GOD DAMN BARTON!" Fury roared in his office - everyone in the base heard him loud and clear.

Clint shut the SHIELD phone and promptly whipped it into the ocean. He turned around to smile at the two people leaning against his car with matching smirks on their faces.

"Ready to get lost and never find our way back home?" he asked taking his keys out of his pockets and dangling them in front of the only two girls that mattered in his life. The only two people he was willing to throw away everything for. He was willing to die for. He was pretty darn sure they were willing to die for him too – even if one of them was in intense denial about what they meant to each other. Alicia suddenly rolled her eyes and opened the car door.

"Just get in the car Clint before SHIELD starts getting a head start in hunting us down," she said with a sigh. Clint smirked.

"Oh Alicia you have such little faith in us. SHIELD is never going to find us," Clint said with a devious smile. She glanced up at them as she took a seat in the car and dangled her feet over the edge of the door.

"How are you so sure?" she asked glancing between the two of them. Natasha gave her one of her mysterious smiles.

"Because we specialize in not being found," she said holding up red hair dye. Alicia gasped.

"Red hair!" she laughed – the colour she had wanted before. Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Yeah red hair - I'm changing mine though," Natasha said holding up another bottle. She heard Clint's pathetic whine behind her and snorted.

"But I _like _your red hair," Clint pouted as he peeked over her shoulder.

"I'm changing it to brown," she said simply. She felt him freeze against her back. She was always giving him mixed signals. It drove him insane – but he just laughed through it like he does everything in his life.

"I take it back - good taste," he said wagging his eyebrows at her. She glared at him.

"Shut up Barton," she said threateningly. He leaned closer until they were inches apart. A few weeks ago she would have decked him in the face for getting that close. Now she had a better idea.

"Make me," he whispered as his warm breath blew against her face. He was never going to stop making her uncomfortable. Not when he knew deep down she wanted this too. The stupid Russian was just too damn _stubborn_. She narrowed her eyes as she read things she didn't want to see in his eyes.

She promptly shoved the hair dye bottle into his mouth, took the keys from his hand and spun away from him. He gagged as he tried to remove the object blocking his airway. Natasha winked at Alicia who had her mouth on the ground as she walked around the car and gracefully fell into the driver's seat.

"Let's get out of here Alicia," she said taking Barton's sunglasses from the side compartment and throwing them over her face. She took one look at her choking partner and then she promptly locked him out.

"Natasha you beast! You thief! You steal my car, my kid, my god damn breath!" he shouted playfully banging his fist against the window. She simply smirked as she crossed her arms and leaned against the back of her seat. The bastard was so _easy_ to trick.

"Hey I'm not your kid!" Alicia said childishly. He paused in his attempt to break down Natasha's door and glanced at the 9 year old sitting in the backseat.

"Really?" he said dryly. After all they've been through? Alicia scowled and crossed her arms.

"Not legally," she said stiffly. He snorted.

"Don't care," he said frankly.

"We don't look anything alike!" she insisted. He shrugged.

"Thank god for that - you don't want to look rugged. Cute is just fine," he said leaning against her window daring her to continue.

"I have needs!" she laughed. Clint scowled at her. Where did her flirtatiousness come from?

"You're only 9 years old! I think I can manage to accommodate your needs kid," he said plainly. She stuck her tongue out at him.

"You don't know how to take care of a kid!" she exclaimed.

"I can _learn_," he scoffed. She suddenly ran out of playful retorts and gave him a searching look. He didn't know what she was looking for but she must have found it because she suddenly placed her small hand against the window and stared up at him with the biggest green eyes he had ever seen. Damn they were just the exact same shade of green as _hers_.

He thinks his heart was going to implode on itself. Can hearts do that?

"You really want to be my dad?" she asked with the hope bleeding through her words. He places his larger, rougher hand over the same spot as hers. God they all knew what her _real_ dad was like. That was a damn nightmare.

"Something like that?" he said softly. He couldn't always be there – but maybe they could pretend once in a while?

_Click_.

"Get your ass in the car Barton your cheesy emotions are sickening me," Natasha said as she unlocked the doors. He laughed as he leaned his forehead against the window. His life was just such a fucking roller-coaster. He had everything he ever wanted and at the same time he didn't. He pulled away from the window and quickly fell into the passenger seat beside the only damn girl in the entire world he would ever want to go M.I.A with. She was the only one he wanted to do _any_ of this with.

"Offer is still up for effectively shutting me up?" he said wagging his eyebrows once again. Natasha didn't even blink.

"Alicia do you have your seat belt on?" she asked blankly. He froze – _oh no._

"Um...yeah?" Alicia said glancing down and making sure to double check. Natasha smirked.

"Good," she said before she slammed her foot on the gas and caused Clint to smash his face against the side window.

"_AW COME ON TASHA_!" he groaned as he rubbed his forehead in pain. Natasha and Alicia snickered in unison.

The 3 of them were going to have one hell of a vacation. M.I.A. never sounded better than right now.

**A/N: What do two assassins who came from opposite sides of the world and one orphaned genius girl do on an unauthorized vacation? Madness**. **This was basically a real kidnapping. Haha. **

**And as a side note – It's been 8 months into their partnership. Natasha has spent 21 years being on her own and keeping everyone at a distance her entire life. Not even Clint Barton can change her that fast. She was bound to shoot him down the first few times. But the fact that she's still around means **_**something**_** right? It means she at least cares about him enough to stay. But he was bound to start developing feelings faster than her. Just saying she needs more time. **

**P.S Clint Barton is SUCH A BETTER DAD then Antonio Vargaras. O.M.**_**G**_**! :O Thank god that bastard is dead.**

**An assassin's life is all kinds of complicated.  
**


	35. Chapter 35

**I dare you  
**  
**A/N: So yeah fluff. Sickeningly sweet stuff. Yuck. I think I got a cavity. Oh well after so much action and angst I think I can give you a tiny bit of fluff for your pains of reading this hectic story. haha.  
**  
**Chapter 35**

It was the day after SHIELD was politely made aware of their shitty benefits and got a slap in the face from their best field team before the two pretty much fell off the face of the earth.

Now people were pissed. When we say people we really mean Nick damn Fury.

Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff were currently holding the number 1 spot on their internal wanted list AKA the list of _agents who royally needed their ass kicked_.

"That's a bit extreme you know…" Coulson said warily staring at the report in his hand and glancing up at his boss. Fury raised an eyebrow and gave his best handler a dry look.

"Coulson…they took your kid and ditched the country," Fury said blankly. Coulson froze with his coffee cup nearly crashing to the floor.

Wait for it…let it sink in…

"THEY DID _WHAT_?" Coulson shouted nearly dropping all his papers to the ground. Fury gave him a measured look – someone was late.

"I thought you kept better tabs on her Coulson?" Fury said warily. Coulson whipped out his phone and then really _did_ drop his papers to the floor. He quickly flipped through his hundreds of surveillance details and found the one he was looking for. He took a closer look at the familiar footage and realized it was a repeat of a couple days ago.

His mouth honestly hit the floor.

"That sneaky girl! She hacked my phone and looped the security camera footage in her school!" Coulson said in disbelief as he stared at his phone in shock. Fury shook his head and stared up at his ceiling.

"What is my organization coming to when my best agents got seriously played by a 9 year old, basically fall in love with her and now my handler got the rug pulled from beneath his feet by her too? I need to meet this kid. Find them Coulson," Fury said giving him _the eye_. Coulson scoffed.

"Oh you don't have to tell me twice. I am going to kick their ass _myself_," Coulson growled with promise as he spun around and stalked out of his director's room.

He was going to kill those two assassins himself – the bastards stole his kid!

Meanwhile in small country called Panama 3 interesting tourists were having the most _awkward_ time of their life. Mostly because they couldn't agree on _anything_. The three of them sat on a concrete wall facing the blue Caribbean ocean and made weird faces at each other.

"Let's jump in the ocean!" Alicia said excitedly. Natasha snorted.

"I refuse to get drenched for _fun_," Natasha muttered definitely not liking the kid's idea of fun. Alicia scoffed from beside her as she dangled her feet over the edge of the concrete wall.

"Well I refuse to sit in the shade and read trashy romance novels all day long," Alicia muttered giving Clint a pointed look. The archer immediately turned bright red.

"They're not romance novels – they're genuine mystery stories!" Clint said defensively. Natasha and Alicia gave him matching unimpressed looks.

"They're boring romance novels Barton," they said at the same time. Clint defiantly shook his head in denial.

"No they're not! And besides _I_ refuse to drink vodka until I puke – beside she's underage so there will be no alcohol on this trip," Clint said shooting Natasha and _are-you-crazy?_ look. Natasha simply shrugged.

"Hey I'm not the one who passed out after a single shot," she said dryly. Alicia snickered behind her hand as Clint gaped like a fish.

"IT WAS 95% WOMAN!" Clint exclaimed in disbelief. Natasha snorted.

"Lightweight baby," she said promptly turning away from her annoying partner. Alicia laughed softly as she swung her legs back and forth as she stared up at the clear blue sky and listened to two of her most favourite people in world bicker like they always seemed to do.

"I wanna build a sand castle," she said suddenly. Natasha furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Why would you want to build a castle out of sand? Won't it just break down or get washed away eventually?" she asked cautiously. Clint and Alicia blinked.

_Cricket…cricket...cricket…_

"You said she lived under a rock in Russia for the first 20 years of her life right?" Alicia asked Clint as they shared a dry look.

"Probably longer – I think she lied about her age and is actually too scared to tell us she is a hermit even older than me," Clint said shaking his head in shame. Alicia nodded gravely. Natasha scowled at the two annoying dark haired chatty people.

"Don't make me lock both of you in a washroom together and refuse to feed you for days," Natasha said threateningly. The blinking was back – _what_?

"That is just _cruel_ Tasha!" Clint said in utter shock. Natasha huffed while Alicia just rolled her eyes.

"Natasha you build sand castles so that you can stomp them to death in the end," Alicia said simply. Natasha stared at her for a long moment.

_Cricket…cricket…cricket…_

"I _really_ don't under the American definition of fun," she muttered rubbing her forehead feeling a headache coming along nicely. Alicia snorted.

"This is not the American version of fun! It's the _Spanish_ version! It's much more entertaining than dull Americans. God you should see some of my classmates! They're so _boring_! Always going on and on about things like videos games and shopping! I had a lot more fun back in Spain seeing ancient history in our old cities and discovering mysteries the civilizations from our past left behind," Alicia said with a pleasant sigh. Natasha snorted – she doubted Alicia even _went_ to school while living with her father in Spain.

"Someone is a little arrogant…" Natasha said under her breath. Alicia glared at her.

"Someone is a killjoy," she shot back. Natasha shot her a dirty look.

"Someone is pushing my buttons and is going have her little body dunked into the Caribbean ocean head first," Natasha said dangerously. Alicia stuck her nose in the air.

"I'd like to see you try Miss Russian badass," Alicia challenged not being intimidated one bit by the woman who has killed hundreds. Natasha's eyes darkened – Clint would be a little worried Alicia was really getting on her nerves if it wasn't for the odd glint in Natasha's eye…she was _enjoying_ being pissed off by a kid.

Who would have guessed?

"Don't test me you little Spanish shrimp," Natasha said steadily. Alicia stuck her tongue out at the stiff Russian and made little devil ears on her head.

"Oh tengo tan miedo. Natasha es _el_ _diablo_," Alicia scoffed giving Natasha once over look. Natasha's eye twitched – oh this kid was going to get it now.

"You know I know fluent Spanish right? I can call you evil things in Russian too kid…," Natasha said through gritted teeth. Clint quickly chose this moment to intervene.

"Does anyone care what _I_ want to do?" Clint mumbled from beside the two warring girls. They both promptly gave him matching annoyed looks.

"Stay out of this idiot!" they growled in unison. Clint blinked and slowly edged away from their burning gaze. Dude women were _scary_ things.

"Um…does anyone want ice cream? Cause it's burning hot and I think the heat is getting to our heads…" Clint said slowly. Two pairs of conflicted eyes stared at him torn between wanted to _kick_ his ass for suggesting that they were going loopy and just allowing him to buy them some sweet cold snacks. As the bright equatorial sun beat down on their faces they finally cracked.

"_Fine_," they muttered crossing their arms. Clint tried really hard not to laugh – they didn't get along too, too well but at the same time they hit it off perfectly.

"Alright don't kill each other while I'm gone okay?" he said with the amusement clear in his voice as he spun around and hopped off the wall. He patted Alicia on the knee and gave his partner the usual _you-know-you-want-me_ look before he stuck his hands in his pockets and walked down the beach boardwalk towards the little stalls that sold overpriced treats to beach dwellers. He heard an annoyed growl and swiftly ducked as an expected sandal flew over his head. He caught it easily and flashed a boyish grin over his shoulder as he held the black sandal up and waved.

"Is the lovely Russian playing Cinderella today? I wouldn't mind being price charming," he called out with the signature shit-eating grin on his face.

If vicious _deadly_ looks could kill stupid reckless archers…

"SHUT _UP_ BARTON!" Natasha shouted showing him her fist and patted her hip where her gun was. Beside her Alicia was laughing her head off nearly in tears as he blew his partner a kiss and snickered as she looked like was about to explode in rage.

Ah life was good. Even though she was still in denial.

He glanced around at all the crazy ice cream flavours and tried to find a normal looking one without crazy exotic fruits in them he doubted they could stomach. His eyes lazily traveled around the crowd around him out of a habit drilled into his skull since the day he started working for SHIELD – and then he froze when he caught sight of a familiar looking face. He didn't really know the dark haired man with a sour look on his face as he angrily conversed with someone at the other end of his phone – but he had seen his picture in the SHIELD database before.

He was a ground-based SHIELD Intel contact.

"Well shit," Clint said under his breath before he spun around and quickly stalked back towards two girls who had moved from the wall lining the beach and were now actually sitting by the water and glaring at each other daring the other to go in first.

Too bad it was time to go.

"_You _go in first - you're the famous Black Widow!" Alicia huffed as she crossed her arms in a defiant act. Natasha gave her an exasperated look.

"You're the kid who is practically Barton's. You should _love _water," Natasha shot back promptly evading the challenge. Alicia narrowed her eyes at the reluctant Russian.

"Are you a chicken lady?" she asked slowly. Natasha froze - was she _really _being patronized by a child of all people? She was about to tell the kid where she could take a chicken and where shove it up when she finally noticed a steel eyed archer stalking towards them with a determined look on his face. She was instantly on guard and swiftly packed up their minimal stuff and swung the backpack over her shoulder. Alicia noticed the change immediately and her playfulness vanished. She felt someone hover behind her and felt them place a warm pair of hands on her waist.

"Sorry for interrupting your little argument but we have got to go ladies," Clint said calmly but with an edge in his voice. Natasha and Alicia both glanced over his shoulder and tried to see what had _his_ boxers in a twist.

"What did you see Barton...?" Natasha asked as she rose to her feet and reached forward to bring Alicia's dark sunglasses down on her face to cover her eyes. Clint promptly picked her up and spun her around so that she could wrap her arms around his neck. She was much too light for a 9 year old.

"Trouble has finally caught up with us - we need to leave the city before they realize we're here," he said sharing a significant look with his partner over Alicia's shoulder. SHIELD was definitely looking for them not only because they ditched extraction but because they kidnapped a rather valuable kid who knew codes that can destroy the world.

No big deal right?

"Pretend you're sleeping," he whispered in Alicia's ear as he started walking away from the ocean and down the street with Natasha easily keeping stride beside him. Alicia closed her eyes and rested her head on his rather broad shoulder.

"Is it SHIELD or someone else?" she whispered into his shoulder. A smirk played at the edge of his lips - smart kid.

"Not exactly SHIELD but someone they know..." he answered as he glanced over to his partner and watched her scan the area with her ever calculative gaze. He saw her tense when her eyes landed on the SHIELD Intel contact they knew was posted in Panama. Well what were the damn odds of him being in the same exact damn beach at the same time as the runaway assassins being hunted by their entire organization?

Apparently with their luck the odds of fucking this up were really high.

Clint once told her it was paranoia to memorize all the faces and locations of the people who worked for their organization. Now he felt like an idiot for not wholly embracing her rather helpful paranoia.

He could see her subtly brush her thigh where her gun was strapped to but slowly shook his head at her.

"Try to keep pretending we're supposed to be here. It's a better blend," he said quietly and he adjusted his grip around Alicia's waist. Natasha glanced at him for a second before she accepted his recommendation and nodded. They didn't need to kill anyone unless they absolutely had to. Intel hadn't noticed them yet so that meant bloodshed wasn't required.

But they would if it came to that. Though they would prefer Alicia didn't see that side of their jobs anytime soon. They were really trying to pretend they didn't kill people for a living. Apparently no matter where they go there is always a reminder about who they really are.

He felt Alicia's silence as her brain worked a hundred miles an hour while she had her cheek pressed against his shoulder. She was dissecting the situation too fast for his liking - he didn't know how good for her health that was.

"What are you thinking so hard about kid?" he asked curiously trying to keep Alicia's thoughts from becoming too depressing like he knew was a rather big possibility. He left the watching their tail to Natasha. She took the hint and zoned out of the conversation. He felt Alicia take a few soft breaths against his shoulder before she responded.

"I was wondering what car we were going to steal to ditch this party and if you would consider hijacking that Ferrari an annoying stuck up rich boy drove here and then proceeded to walk around the beach like he owned the whole place," she said with a slight scoff at the end as if she couldn't believe someone could be so conceited. Clint nearly burst out laughing - oh dear god her thoughts were hilarious. They weren't depressing at _all_.

He wondered offhandedly how much that was a coping mechanism. Damn his brain for thinking too hard. Damn the fact that the kid was probably as messed up as they were. Damn the fact that he was a sick bastard for being glad that she wasn't normal - normal kids wouldn't be able to handle stuff like this.

"Sure thing kid - wanna point out which one?" he asked keeping his tone light. They really were going to have to steal a car so it might as well be a fancy one from a person who could easily buy another.

"Straight ahead, down the street we're on right now, take a left on the next set of lights, there should be a parking lot with a sleeping guard who was probably too lazy to do his job and the Ferrari I'm talking about is the red one most likely 3 cars from your right. It might be 4 - sorry I'm not sure. We only passed by that location once," she said quietly without even opening her eyes. Clint froze and nearly tripped over his own feet in utter shock.

Damn that was intense. Just _damn_.

"Alicia your brain scares me sometimes..." Clint said playfully - he was only half joking. Her dad was kind of a little bit more then crazy - he was a little worried for her future. He felt Natasha tap him in the back and glanced over to lock eyes with her ever serious gaze.

"Intel is moving our way," she said steadily. He tensed and quickly sped up using Alicia's perfect instructions right down to the letter. Damn her genius made him feel jealous sometimes - but then he felt stupid for being jealous of a little girl who lost so much and instantly shut those thoughts down.

"Has he spotted us?" he asked giving his partner a careful look. She shook her head slowly.

"No, the crowds are thick enough that he can't see us clearly. He's just wary at this point," she said slowly. He nodded and walked right into the parking lot and found the red Ferrari Alicia was talking about. Natasha instantly took out one of her many little tools and started jimmying the lock. Clint covered her with Alicia still in his arms while she worked. They all heard the telltale _click_ and quickly threw open the door so that they could file into the car. Clint slammed the door shut behind them and they all sighed in relief. That was slightly nerve-wracking. Alicia wasn't quite with him there.

"Well that was fun," she said as she opened her eyes and pulled away from his neck to fall onto her back across their laps. Her head fell on Natasha who was sitting in the passenger's seat and Alicia flashed her a cheeky smile. Natasha raised a single eyebrow at the rather Barton-like actions.

"Can your little tool start a car or does Clint have to spark the engine?" Alicia asked curiously. Natasha suddenly gave her another one of her mysterious smile - darn those made his stomach twist in ways he didn't think possible.

"I have a better idea," she said as she suddenly reached in the tiny compartment in the center of the car and pulled up a set of car keys - both Alicia and Clint's mouth hit the floor. Man the kid who bought this car was drop dead _stupid_.

Natasha glanced out the car window and suddenly narrowed her eyes before she swiftly stuck the keys into the ignition and gave her partner a pointed look.

"Start driving Barton," she said evenly. He whipped his head around and stared at the SHIELD contact who was suddenly much closer than before. He was still talking on the phone and when he looked straight at him Clint whipped his head back to the front and immediately took hold of the steering wheel.

"Oh fuck!" he shouted before he slammed his foot on the gas pedal and shot out of the parking lot before anyone they didn't want to see showed up. Alicia squeaked as she nearly fell to the floor and quickly grabbed onto Natasha who froze from the sudden contact and they both blinked at each other.

Whiz Kid vs. Russian Assassin.

They really didn't know how to talk to one another.

"Ah...are you going to let go now?" Natasha asked slowly as she stared at the little hands gripping her shirt like her life depended on it. Alicia gave her a nervous smile.

"Ha ha...No..." Alicia laughed nervously holding on even tighter as the car jolted while Clint made a sharp turn down another street – they needed to get onto a dirt road leading away from the city. Natasha gave her a wary look as Alicia suddenly shifted closer to keep from falling off the edge of the seat.

"What are you doing Alicia?" Natasha asked with a sigh. Alicia shot her a cute half grin.

"I'm just picking the lesser of two evils. Between death by car crash or death by cool assassin I choose assassin any day. By the way Clint you shouldn't say the f word you know - that's bad parenting," Alicia added as an afterthought. Natasha and Clint both stared at the little girl with matching blank expressions.

_Cricket...cricket...cricket..._

"Are you telling _me_ how I should parent _you_?" he asked in disbelief. Alicia shrugged.

"Hey it's some good advice," Alicia said calmly. Clint snorted - no wonder she could practically raise herself.

"Any other good advice?" Clint asked dryly as he glanced at kid. Alicia was about to respond with a sarcastic answer of her own when she noticed a smoking car accident blocking the center of the road - they weren't slowing down though. Natasha tensed as she saw it too.

"KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ROAD IDIOT!" Natasha and Alicia shouted at the same time. Clint's eyes shot forward ad he quickly yanked the steering wheel to the left and managed to avoid the wreckage just in time. They all took a calming breath when they were sure they weren't about to die. Natasha shot her partner a deadly look.

"From now on only _I_ am the designated driver for future escape plans alright?" she said irritably. Clint gave her a sheepish look that promptly morphed into a mischievous one.

"Yes dear," he said cheekily. Her right eye twitched - bad sign.

SMACK!

Clint winced from the painful smack and lost focus of the road for a second and let the entire car swivel sharply to the left. Alicia squeaked as she nearly fell to the floor again.

"AHHH Natasha you almost made him flip the car over!" Alicia shrieked as the held onto the volatile agent ever harder. Natasha tensed.

"Stop. Squeezing. _Me_," Natasha said through clenched teeth – she was serious. Alicia squeaked and quickly let go of her death grip on the not very touchy feely Russian. Apparently there _were_ limits to how much little kid Natasha could take.

It was an honest miracle she lasted this long.

An hour later of driving down the coast Clint finally brought the car to a stop beside a stretch of a sandy, empty and quiet beach. They all stared at the calming scene and even though it looked incredibly boring they were ready for something boring for once in their crazy hectic lives.

"Guess we're having our vacation with the wind in our hair, the damn seagulls in the sky and no people in sight," Clint said with a sigh. Natasha and Alicia rolled their eyes and got out of the car at the same time. He leaned his head against the steering wheel as he watched the two walk around the car and suddenly start another staring match. He nearly burst out laughing at the annoyed twitch in Natasha's eye because she couldn't out stare a 9 year old.

The calm and quiet was instantly shattered - they were nowhere _near_ calm people.

"You're still a chicken you know?" Alicia said crossing her arms and falling right back into the banter they had going before they were rudely interrupted by reality. Natasha cocked an eyebrow and promptly opened his door and suddenly dragged his ass out of the car and hauled him up beside her.

"He is actually the biggest chicken because he absolutely can't stand seagulls," Natasha said with a devious smirk. Clint gaped at her in disbelief. Who _liked_ seagulls? Vicious dirty beasts! Alicia furrowed her brow.

"Huh?" she asked rather ineloquently. Natasha chuckled with a dark undertone and promptly stuck her hand in his pant pocket causing him to squeak in surprise and pulled out a chocolate bar she knew he always carried around - the idiot had a sweet tooth bigger then Mount Everest.

"Observe Alicia," she said simply before she opened the infamous half-melted chocolate bar and smeared it all over his face before he could even blink.

"Natasha _what the hell_?" he exclaimed heatedly staring at the mess she made on his face and shirt. He glanced up and noticed the evil glint in his partner's eyes with impending dread.

3

2

1

"SQUAAAAAAAACK!" a hundred shrill voices shrieked from behind him. Clint paled and slowly turned around to see a gigantic angry mob of evil _seagulls_ hovering in the air above him.

Oh he was dead.

"I HATE YOU SO GOD DAMN MUCH ROMANOFF!" Clint screamed as he started bolting across the beach. Natasha simply smirked as the massive flock of seagull's chased after the chocolate covered assassin. That was the funniest she has ever witnessed.

"Now Alicia – _this_ is what I call prime entertainment," Natasha snickered beside the little girl. Alicia nodded with a look of awe on her face.

Natasha was now _really_ her idol.

"For once I will agree with you Natasha," Alicia said watching Clint Barton run for his life down the beach towards the water to dive into the ocean and wipe the chocolate off his face so that he wouldn't get pecked to death by vicious seagulls.

"LEAVE ME ALONE YOU DAMN BIRDS!" Clint shouted before he threw himself into the water and sunk to the bottom. Natasha and Alicia took one look at each other's evil expression and burst out laughing.

The poor archer was never going to be able to eat chocolate again.

10 minutes later they all managed to calm down and drag an irritated and drowned rat looking agent out of the ocean. He flopped onto the warm sand and glared at his partner sitting innocently beside him. He coughed up disgusting salt water and scowled at her.

"Wipe that smirk off your face Tasha," he grumbled into the ground. Natasha snorted.

"Not a chance you wimp," she said with a slight twitch at the corner of her lips. He pushed himself into a sitting position and wagged his eyebrows at her.

"You know what the only thing left to do is right Tasha?" he said mysteriously. Natasha gave him a quizzing look.

"Barton…" she said warningly. He just kept grinning.

"Give me a big _wet_ soggy hug oh deadly partner of mine," Clint said evilly. Natasha froze.

"Oh god no stay away from me you drowned rat," she hissed as she quickly shifted away from him – but the promise in his eyes didn't relent – until she firmly pointed her gun in between his eyes. He paused.

Well that was a bummer.

"Sit _down_ and sulk in silence Barton or I will blow your brains out," she said steadily. He pouted and dropped his arms.

"Tasha you're no _fun_," he sulked all the same. She rolled her eyes and they both glanced at the water when they heard a quiet laughter.

"Hey kid aren't you kind of bored playing in the water by yourself?" Clint asked curiously as he watched Alicia splash the warm blue water with her feet.

"I don't mind. I prefer being alone," Alicia said as she held her hands outs and walking along a log siting on the sandy ground unyielding to the light ocean currents. Clint and Natasha gave her a wary look.

"That's not exactly a healthy attitude for a kid Alicia..." Clint said carefully. Alicia didn't even blink - it speaks volumes about how many times she has heard that concern in her life.

"How many other 9 year olds want to discuss thermodynamics and the reasons behind the recent Iraqi invasion?" Alicia said calmly without looking away from making it across the 15 foot long log. Clint sighed and gave Natasha a pleading look. She raised an eyebrow.

"I was learning how cut a man's throat in 26 different ways with only a paperclip when I was 9 - don't look at _me_ for what is normal," she said dryly. Clint rolled his eyes - god she was so morbid sometimes.

"You're both insane women," he grumbled dragging his hands over his face in only a half joking exasperation. He hears two distinct snickers.

"You like crazy," they said at the same time. He groaned and fell back against the sand stared up at the sky with the damn seagulls circling them waiting for Natasha to whip out another chocolate bar – as if he was ever going to carry _those_ to a beach ever again.

Being on the run was never quite so peaceful – if you could call running across the world with a crazy Russian assassin, a genius Spanish 9 year old and an overly sarcastic American archer anything close to peaceful.

Maybe it was just the right kind for them.

**A/N: How much of their vacation do you really want to read? I think I have one more chapter planned before I start the normal storyline back up. If you want **_**Clintasha**_** (legit romance) it's not going to happen with Alicia around. It'll probably start heating up after the say good bye and on their own again. I have a really intense evil mission to throw them into after they drop Alicia off and get their asses whipped by Coulson and Fury. **

**Review and let me know if you liked the fluff! I'm itching to write action again. haha. **


	36. Chapter 36

**I dare you **

**A/N: So yeah 5,000 words was enough of fluff. I got bored. SORRY! ACTION! :D hahahaha ANGST :D I like those things. Yeah sorry if you guys like Alicia I'll write her some one shots but I don't think I will bring her back into the story too many times because it's not what this story is about. OFF TO BEAT SOME BAD GUYS…or the opposite! **

**Chapter 36  
**

After nearly freezing to death in the ocean the 3 of them decided to call it a day and try their hand at poker again like the first time around. Too bad Alicia was still a fatal cheater.

"Really Alicia if you keep cheating what is the point of playing?" Clint grumbled as he watched her win for the 3rd time in a row. She shrugged with a little smirk on her face.

"Cheating is an art," she said simply. Clint raised an eyebrow in question. Now that was a big fat…_half-truth_. He winced. Damn he had the wrong job to use as an example because cheating skills were damn useful in the field. Natasha snorted at their petty argument.

"You're both babies," Natasha muttered as she threw her bad hand into the pile in front of her. She suddenly tensed as she stared at the cards with a calculative look for a few moments before she sighed. Clint gave her a funny look.

"What's up with _you_?" he asked warily. She didn't respond right away and avoided his slightly cautious gaze.

"Natasha…" he said warningly.

There was suddenly a knock on their door and they _all_ froze. No one said anything for several seconds.

"Don't just stare at the door like it's going to magically stop having someone knocking on it you idiots – open it or I will burn it down," a familiar voice said impatiently from other side. Clint's mouth hit the floor.

"_Coulson_?" he asked in disbelief. How the fuck had he found them? Sure he might have known the country they were in but there was no possible way he could have tracked them all the way out here….or was there? He cautiously opened the door and came face to face with an annoyed looking handler. He didn't even have enough time to blink before he promptly got a fist slamming in his face and got knocked to the floor.

"UGH! What the _fuck_ Coulson?" Clint shouted as he held his bruised cheek as he sat on the ground with a scowl on his face. Coulson gave him a long look. Natasha and Alicia stared at the scene in disbelief. Did Phil Coulson just deck Clint Barton? Oh damn they never thought they would see that day.

"That was for kidnapping my kid – now on to business. Vacation? Over. SHIELD is going have your ass for taking a kid under surveillance and Fury is just going to eat you _alive_ Barton. Really you are so stupid it's unbelievable. M.I.A on purpose? Do you have a death wish? Do you know what the council would do to you two if we didn't cover your asses? You would have been blacklisted so fast your heads would be spinning!" Coulson said angrily. How could they be so reckless?

"We really _don't_ care Coulson," Clint muttered as he pushed himself off the ground. Coulson's right eye twitched.

"Oh you are going to care once I'm done with you," Coulson said warningly. Clint gave his annoying handler a blank look.

"Bye Coulson," Clint said in a bored tone as he tried to slam the hotel door in Coulson's face but really he should know better by now. Coulson promptly kicked the door open and gave the irritated looking agent a pointed look.

"Nobody is going _anywhere_. God you 3 are pathetic. Really Romanoff I expected more from you out of all of you," Coulson said rubbing his forehead. Natasha stood off to the side with her arms crossed and looked anywhere but at the standoff happening at the door.

"Yeah I kind of figured it was worth a shot to give them a couple days before we got caught," Natasha said with a half shrug. Clint froze and just stared at his partner. What the _hell_ was she talking about?

"How do you know we were going to get caught…?" Clint said cautiously. Natasha gave him a wary look.

"It's not really that hard to find a kid with a tracking device in her system," Natasha muttered looking away with an expression that looked too much like guilt. Clint nearly fell to his knees as the shock racked through his body in waves. He stared at his partner with absolute betrayal in his eyes.

"What?" he said in utter disbelief. Alicia shot Coulson a dirty look.

"_That's_ what the flu shot wasn't it?" she said angrily. Coulson sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Alicia I told you choices came with restrictions. And you agreed to it – all of it. Which means SHIELD is always going to be a part of your life. You're allowed to see agent Barton and agent Romanoff when they're on off time – but this? I better not see this shit happen again or I am relocating you somewhere Barton _definitely_ won't find you," Coulson said giving her a stern look that made her lower her eyes. He turned his angry gaze to the only other man in the room. "I know you Barton – I know how you work and there are places out there you _can't_ find. Don't force me to put her somewhere like that," Coulson said steadily but with promise in his eyes. Clint narrows his own eyes.

"You're being a bastard Coulson," Clint growled clenching his fists as his sides. Coulson gave him a stern look.

"No I'm _not_. I'm giving you a heads up on what SHIELD will do to you if you pull a stunt like this ever again. Don't you dare go M.I.A on purpose a second time – or you are never going to be allowed to see her," Coulson said warningly. Clint tensed and Alicia glared at the unyielding handler.

"Don't I get a say in this at _all_?" Alicia muttered angrily. Coulson shot her a heated look.

"Alicia if you don't come back with me you're going to be relocated like you knew you would be if you couldn't keep your cover properly. Ditching school for several days without an explanation is definitely _not_ keeping your cover. You're not stupid Alicia. Don't tell me you didn't know I was coming," Coulson said evenly. Alicia continued to shoot daggers at him but didn't say a single word. She did know. Clint looked back and forth between his tense partner and the kid standing beside him.

"Am I the only one who didn't know what was going on _again_?" he asked angrily. Everyone instantly looked away from his betrayed expression. Coulson broke the tense silence with a sigh.

"Let's go Alicia – you have a principal to apologize to and Director who wants to meet you for who _knows_ what reason," he muttered holding the door open and giving the 9 year old a firm look. She glared at him – his stern look didn't relent. God when had he become a _real_ babysitter over the last few weeks? Alicia finally cracked and angrily picked up her backpack.

"I hate you Coulson," she growled at him. Coulson sighed – like that was new. Alicia tugged at Clint's tense hand and he finally got pulled out of his shaky haze of betrayal mixed with anger and hurt.

"Hey Clint…?" she said quietly staring at his shoes. Clint reeled back his blinding angry for just a moment and blinked it out of his eyes. He crouched down to her height and gently pulled her into a tight hug.

"Yeah kid?" he said softly against her hair. She hugged him back for a few moments before she finally raised her eyes and gave him a weak smile.

"I'll probably see you soon if you don't step on too many toes at SHIELD you know?" she said with a halfhearted grin. He snorted softly.

"Sorry I think I already stepped on too many," he said with a light laugh – it wasn't quite that genuine. She smiled sadly at him and slowly pulled away from his arms and watched them fall to his side.

"Bye," she whispered. He gave her a crooked smile in return.

"Bye," he whispered back as she slowly backed away from him and passed the handler standing by the door. Coulson reached out to put a hand on her back but her words instantly stopped him.

"Don't _touch_ me Coulson. I'm going to be pissed at you for a while," Alicia muttered as she stomped down the hall with a wary handler trailing behind her – well _he_ was going to have a pleasant week.

"Get you're ass back to SHIELD before Fury really gets even more pissed Barton," Coulson said without looking back. Clint didn't response and simply stood there as the door slammed shut in his face and he lost sight of a little girl who was the only one who was really returning any of his affections towards anyone right now.

And then they were finally left in silence. He _definitely_ didn't forget about the silent Russian in the room who just watched the entire scene with cautious eyes.

They didn't say a word for several tense minutes until she finally decided she would be the first to break the silence.

"Barton…" Natasha started slowly. He clenched his jaw and firmly shook his head.

"I _really_ don't want to talk to you right now," Clint growled as he angrily ripped open hotel door and stalked down the opposite end of the hall. Natasha was hot on his tail right behind him.

"I know you're angry," she said cautiously from behind him. He whipped around and she nearly crashed right into his pulsing body.

"You have _no_ idea how angry I am," he hissed at her with barely restrained rage. She didn't even blink.

"What did you want me to say? That she was tagged? That there was no way they wouldn't find us? That we're going to get in so much shit for this that the mere thought of the impending disaster would ruin the 3 days you _did_ have? Did you ever wonder why you had a few days at all? Coulson did that for you. Don't put all the blame on us. We aren't the ones who are trying to hurt you Barton," she said steadily. Clint froze and narrowed his eyes at her.

"No. No you two might not want to hurt me – but guess what Romanoff? You're actions hurt more than being shot a hundred times in the chest," he growled before he angrily pushed away from her and continued stalking down the hall. He couldn't look at her. He couldn't even stand the _sight_ of her right now.

"You're acting like a child again Barton," Natasha said quietly as she continued to keep stride with him.

"Leave me the _fuck_ alone Romanoff," he growled. She ignored his statement and just continued to follow him.

"Interesting how we're suddenly back to last names," she said warily. Clint clenched his jaw as he angrily shoved the side door open and angrily stomped down the stairs that would lead him to the first floor of the hotel. He was getting out of here. He wasn't staying here for a damn second.

"Fucking go jump off a cliff Romanoff. I really don't want to see your face right now," Clint shouted heatedly. Natasha shook her head.

"You're hurting Barton. You're hurting and you know deep down that this was never going to work out. Alicia was never going be able to be around forever – her life is too control at the moment," Natasha said evenly. He suddenly tensed and shot her a burning look.

"And yet you did what? Just sat around and let it happen? No wonder you were so distant and careful over the last few days. Never getting attached. Really bravo. Fantastic work. You just love breaking hearts don't you Black Widow?" he said harshly. She narrowed her eyes at her partner. He was trying to deflect some of the hurt by lashing out at her but she had thicker skin then that.

"I don't regret not telling you," she said firmly. He tensed.

"Why the fuck not?" he shouted in outrage. She clenched her jaw as he shook in front of her.

"Because at least you now have a few good memories that aren't tainted by the knowledge of what was coming. At least you got to pretend for a little bit Barton. Not everyone has that luxury!" she shouted back. He suddenly stopped walking and she watched the energy just drain right out of his body as he sagged against the wall beside him.

"I don't want to pretend Tasha. I don't want to pretend anymore," he said brokenly. Natasha shook her head slowly.

"It's not real Clint," she whispered. He took a shaky breath and finally glanced up at her with the same empty look she saw back when he couldn't deal with his uncertainty over his actions.

"Maybe what we had with Alicia wasn't real. Maybe it's not allowed to be real. But Tasha-" he said earnestly. She froze – not again.

"No Barton – don't go there – " she started to say irritably, but he just kept talking over her.

"-Maybe nothing that has happened around us is real. But _you're_ real Tasha. Everything always comes in and out of my life Tasha. Good things, bad things, pleasant things, horrifying things – it doesn't matter. It's always fleeting. Nothing has been constant in my life for longer than a few months. But _our_ partnership did Tasha. We've almost made it to a year – doesn't that mean something? Doesn't that say something about us?" he whispered sincerely trying to get her to see what he always saw – but she was still wearing black-tinted glasses that didn't allow her to see anything beyond her ledger and her demons. She wasn't able to see him as clearly as he could see her. She slammed her eyes shut and took a sharp breath.

"I hate it. I really _hate_ it when you start doing this Barton," Natasha said grabbing onto his shirt and shaking him. He simply shook his head sadly.

"I can't stop something like this Tasha. You can't ask me to stop it," he whispered. She froze – god she couldn't do this right now.

"I-I-you're right. You need to be alone right now. I need to be alone right now," Natasha said instantly dropping her hands from clutching his shirt and walked away from him with an unfocused look. She needed to stop looking at him right now because he was screwing with her head in ways he didn't before – it was driving her insane. He gritted his teeth and followed after her.

"How many times are you going to run away Tasha?" he asked heatedly as he followed her out of the back door of the shitty motel they were holed up in – they were likely never going to come back. Natasha pointedly ignored the archer trailing her and it was only her single-minded determination that kept her walking when all she wanted to do was just curl up in a damn corner and ignore _everything_ for once in her life. She didn't want to think about all the shit happening between them, she didn't want to see the yearning or the pain in his damn blue eyes and she didn't want to feel his touch burn her skin anymore.

Because the one thing Natasha learned in her screwed up life was that the more of anything she felt towards someone the more broken she ended up when they eventually were gone. And there was no doubt in her mind that one day Clint Barton was going to leave her too – it was just fact. And she had a sinking feeling she wouldn't survive that day if she ever started something with this man. She wasn't going to do that to either of them.

"How many times do you want to be rejected Barton?" she said trying to sound angry but she just sounded defeated. He caught the slight change in her tone and firmly gasped her by her arms before he spun her around and pushed her up against the alley wall. She clenched her jaw but didn't push him off of her even though she easily could – she needed him to stop on his own. She needed him to give up or their partnership was never going to work.

"Tasha. Tasha just tell me what are you thinking. I know whatever is running through your thick head is what is keeping you from trying whatever this is between us. Why Tasha? Why can't we work? What are you thinking?" he asked needing to know what he was doing wrong. Natasha shook her head in disbelief– _he just didn't get it._

"I'm thinking about the 23 ways I can disarm you and get you off of me," she said angrily. He gave her a sad look and gently cupped her cheeks. Natasha instantly froze at the tender contact.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want me Tasha. Tell me you don't want to kiss me. Tell me you don't want to be with me," he whispered staring at her with soft eyes. Natasha clenched her jaw but remained adamantly silent – she couldn't say that but she wasn't going to let this happen either. He smiled weakly at her.

"If you don't say it I'm never going to stop," he whispered leaning into her. Natasha tensed and roughly shoved away from him before he could land his lips on hers. He was getting way too close to succeeding nowadays.

"No Barton! I said _no_!" she growled and she clenched her fists at her side. She was about to storm away when she caught something on his face and froze.

"Shit Barton there is a red dot on your forehead," Natasha said steadily standing stiffly in place. Damn it she should have been paying better attention but his dramatics were so damn _distracting_. He tensed as all the emotions between them instantly disappeared to be dealt with later. They both narrowed their eyes as they heard several bodies shift in the shadows around them. Suddenly there we 5 more dots aimed at Clint's head and more like 10 pointed at her own. Apparently they knew who was more dangerous.

"So you destroyed my life's work," an unknown voice said from out of nowhere. They both stiffly scanned the seemingly empty alley but they weren't fooled – they knew they were surrounded.

"Lost me a billion dollars," the voice said from behind them. They spun around and saw nothing down the alley. Damn it he was playing with them.

"Gave me a headache the size of the fucking U.S. deficit," he said starting to sound slightly irritated. Natasha locked furious eyes with her partner and he knew he was in _so _much shit if they ever survived this.

"Made over 100 of my distinguished customers _very _angry," the voice continued as suddenly 20 armed men appeared at both ends of the alley and physically blocked both their exits. They both clenched their jaw – oh fuck.

"Had the lovely Colombian authorities on my ass," the voice continued as the armed men pointed all their firearms at the two tense assassins standing back to back in the middle of the dark alley.

"Basically you two left me a very, very big mess to deal with when I came back from an important business meeting," the voice finally had a face as he stepped out from behind his men and gave the two furious agents a bored look. It was Rafael Castro – the arms dealer whose weapons base they blew up a week ago. He suddenly sighed. He expected this to be much harder – apparently the best weren't quite playing up to their par at the moment.

"If you're just going to kill us why are you talking so much Castro?" Natasha hissed at him as she took in all the firearms aimed at her – there was no way they would get out of this alive. Castro smiled slowly.

"Honey I'm not going to kill you. You two are going to kill _yourselves_. See you in hell chica," Castro said darkly before they were both brutally bashed in the back of the head with the end of a gun and instantly knocked out.

Boy were they effectively screwed.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Oh yeah don't think I lost my touch. I can write the story right back into epic Clintasha post-mission problems. The mission is never over until your target is truly dead you know. Rafael Castro is one crazy efficient arms dealer. You wanna bet I can't write an epic Clintasha torture scene? Would I do that? Am I that evil? **

**^.^**

**Probably. **

**Bye! **

**P.S. Now imagine how much they would absolutely hate themselves if Coulson hadn't come to take Alicia away when he had…? Really their lives are way too dangerous for a kid. **


	37. Chapter 37

**I dare you **

**A/N: One fact: Rafael Castro is insane. **

**Read if you dare? (ahaha)**

**Chapter 37**

For once it was Clint who was the first to regain consciousness before his currently still knocked out partner. He bleary scanned the room without fully opening his eyes. He was in a completely sealed metal containment room that was only 5 meters in all directions. He was in a fucking box – he _hated_ being boxed. He was no claustrophobe but sitting in a steel container for too long would eventually drive anyone crazy.

He felt that his pants were soaked right through and noticed the water flooding the floor up to several inches. Fantastic he was going to catch hypothermia before anyone even _got_ the chance to shoot him. He was propped up against one of the cold metal walls with his right arm cuffed to something else. He glanced down at the cuffs and realized they were linked to a different arm. He followed the wet trail of water up the arm and up to the blank face of his partner. He stared at her for several moments before he registered she was actually staring right back.

"Did you just wake up?" he whispered even though he knew there was no use in whispering. She gave him an ice cold look – oh she was pissed.

"No. Been up for 20 minutes," she replied curtly. Clint sighed when he realized why she was in such a nasty mood besides the fact that they were captured.

"I'm sor-" he started to say but she instantly cut him off.

"NO! No you _don't_ get to say sorry! I told you, you _bastard_! I told you being compromised is going to get us _killed_!" she growled shoving him roughly against his shoulder. He tensed as he harshly crashed into the metal wall.

"Natasha this has nothing to do with being compromised! We didn't know that Castro was going to be after our ass! Even if we were paying attention they were obviously watching us from the second we got onto the street!" he said feeling the anger rising in his chest. She was going to blame _all_ of this on their feelings now damn it. She glared bloody daggers at him.

"That doesn't matter! We should have been ready for them! We shouldn't have got caught Barton!" she shouted furiously tugging at the chains that linked them together. He clenched his jaw as he watched the accusations flash across her eyes.

"Sometimes you can't always win all the battles Natasha!" he growled. She promptly slapped his hard across the face with a resounding _smack_ and caused his head to whip to one side. His eyes darkened with rage storming in them as she breathed harshly in front of him.

"I will never be what you want me to be Clint Barton," she promised with dangerous intent. He chuckled darkly with a shake of his head. She was so fucking _naïve_ sometimes.

"It's a bit too late for that now because you already _are_ exactly what I want Natasha Romanoff," he said with a piercing look in his eyes. She angrily slammed her fist into the metal wall behind her and refused to look at him. He wasn't afraid to be punch or thrown around by his volatile partner. He wouldn't have wanted her if she was somehow different or softer. Her dark capacity for violence was an essential piece of her just as her sharp green eyes. He was only so nice himself. Natasha was planning on adamantly ignoring him until they both just died in this metal box when she noticed something on the floor.

"Barton…I think we're at the bottom of the ocean…" Natasha said tensely. Clint froze.

"How do you know that?" he asked stiffly. She continued to stare at the water on the ground and he followed her steady gaze – there was a small clown fish gasping for breath beside her ankle before it promptly took its last breath and died before their very eyes. They both shared a forlorn look before 3 bullet shots resounded in the metal container and the walls starting gushing in water at rapid speeds quickly raising the water level to several feet.

"OH SHIT! OH SHIT!" Clint shouted as he tried to block one of the gushing holes in the wall but Natasha roughly yanked him back by the steel cuffs linking them together.

"It's a waste of time Barton! We need to get out before the water reaches the ceiling!" she said quickly glancing around trying to figure out how to break down a steel wall. Clint stared at her in disbelief.

"How the _fuck_ are we going to do that?" he shouted angrily. She reached down to her boot and pulled up her jeans to reveal a distinct rectangle shaped object attached to her shin. Clint's mouth nearly hit the floor.

"Woman you walk around with easily lite EXPLOSIONS ATTACHED TO YOUR SKIN?" Clint shouted in horror. Natasha glared as him as she ripped the stick off the strap attached to her leg and glanced up at the ceiling that was still relatively dry.

"Give me a lift Barton," she said steadily. He continued to stare at her in disbelief.

"And then what? Let you light it so that we can both blow up right alongside the steel walls?" he growled. She shot him an irritated look.

"If you light it and then dive under water it's not going to travel as far – now LIFT ME!" Natasha said in annoyed tone. Clint gritted his teeth as he crouched down and promptly boosted her up several feet as the water level reached his waist. Natasha gritted her teeth as she missed the ceiling by another foot.

"Higher Barton!" she shouted in frustration. He grunted as he tried to support her not too light weight.

"There _is_ no higher," he called up as he held her as high as he could. She clenched her jaw and quickly looked down to put a hand on his shoulder and use it to boost herself up and balance her knees on his shoulders while painfully gripping his hair with the arm that was still chained to his nearly ripping it out in the process.

"Hurry Tasha you are going to rip my hair out!" Clint growled as he winced in pain. She steeled her eyes and she felt the water reach his shoulders and soak her ankles. She quickly slapped the explosive onto the ceiling and immediately tugged the ignition lighter off. Time to get the hell away.

"TAKE A DEEP BREATH BARTON!" she shouted before she promptly let go of Clint's hair and inhaled a sharp breath of air before she fell backwards into the water. Clint did the same and dived underwater to put as much distance between them and the damn explosive. He felt her dragged him to the floor by the cuffs and they both covered their heads in dreaded anticipation. If this didn't work him and Natasha would be out of time and would definitely drown to death. He grabbed her hand that chained her to him and they shared a significant look – that said if they ever survived this she would _literally_ kick his ass.

5

4

3

2

1

BOOM! They both slammed their eyes shut as wave after wave of vibrations rocked through the water and then suddenly they were being dragged out of the originally airtight container and roughly pulled into an underwater ocean current. Clint frantically wrapped his arms around his partner and tried to cover her as they got dragged through the dark blue water. They felt the uneasy dizziness start to take over their minds from the constant motion and lack of oxygen. They didn't know what was up anymore but they needed to find the surface because they had less than 30 seconds before they were going to pass out.

Clint felt Natasha suddenly tense in his arms and tried to look around and see what was alarming her when he suddenly felt a large object make sharp direct contact with the back of his head and he promptly blackout out. Natasha froze as she watched her partner lose consciousness as he got hit with a massive chunk of metal and suddenly he was falling deeper into the depths of the ocean and dragged her down with him because of their linked arms. She frantically pulled him against the current and towards what she _hoped_ was the surface.

If the idiot dared to die on her she was going to bring him back to life just so that she could have the honour of killing him _herself_.

She started to see black spots in her vision and redoubled her efforts to drag his sorry ass to the surface. She didn't know how many meters below the surface they were but she could see the light getting brighter and god she hoped she didn't run out of oxygen before they made it the last few meters. Barton's dead weight was tiring her oxygen deprived muscles faster than if it was just her. She tensed as she started to feel the darkness start to creep into the edge of her vision. She gave one last determined kick and by some sick miracle she broke surface and gasped in beautiful amounts of needed air. She spun around and pulled Clint's head out of the water and promptly slapped him across the face as she continued to breathe frantically.

"Barton! Barton wake up! BARTON WAKE UP DAMN IT!" she shouted as she repeatedly smacked him harder across the face. His head lulled to the side and for a second she thought she had lost him forever but she quickly felt for him weak pulse on the side of his neck and roughly dragged him towards her.

"CLINT WAKE UP!" she screamed in his ear and suddenly his eyes flew opened and he gasped as he coughed up disgusting amounts of salt water and nearly dragged them both down as Natasha accidentally stopped holding him up and he lost his balance. They both fell below the water surface again as he dragged them down by their handcuffs before he quickly started kicking his own feet and relieved her of the job of keeping them _both_ afloat. He wrapped his arm around her tired body and dragged them both back up to the surface and she coughed as she leaned her forehead heavily against his shoulder. God he was fucking heavy.

"Natasha?" he croaked as he held onto her soaked body tightly. Natasha took several shaky breaths as she gripped his drenched shirt.

"Yeah Barton?" she said still trying to catch her breath. He leaned his cheek against her wet hair and continued to inhale deep breaths as well.

"Can you say my name again?" he asked quietly. Natasha pulled back from the drowned looking archer and gave him a weird look.

"Clint we are in the middle of nowhere with miles of water in every direction and that is the first thing you ask?" she asked in genuine disbelief. He smiled weakly at her.

"It sounds nice," he whispered softly with his arms still wrapped loosely around her waist. She groaned and repeatedly banged her forehead against his wet chest. She felt his deep chuckle shake her entire body. She tensed when she realized it didn't bother her anymore – she was getting used his annoying laughter.

"Barton you're an idiot and were going to drown when our limbs stop cooperating," she grumbled into his chest. She felt him pause and suddenly he was tapping her on the shoulder.

"You're not exactly right Tasha – there's an island right behind you several miles that way," Clint whispered into her ear. She froze and instantly spun around in his arms to confirm what he was saying.

"Joy now we just have to swim for an hour to make it there," she muttered sarcastically. Clint rolled his eyes and started dragging her through the water.

"Come on you lazy Russian – let's find some land to dry our pruny asses on," he said trying to keep the exhaustion out of his voice. She heard it anyway but decided it didn't matter if he was lying to keep himself going. Sometimes lies were all they had left to help them through the shitty situations they always find themselves in.

1 hour later 2 soaked and exhausted assassins dragged their broken bodies onto the murky shores of a tiny patch of sand that was only a mile long and maybe a couple hundred meters wide. The sand ended a few metered into the island before a gigantic annoying thick patch of jungle took over the terrain.

They were never taking a mission that involved lots of trees ever _again_.

"I really hate juggles Barton," Natasha muttered as she collapsed onto her back and glared up at the annoying setting sun in the sky. It was going to be dark soon. Clint snorted half-heartedly from beside her- his arms were literally about to fall apart. He stared up at the trees hanging over their head and suddenly froze as his eyes caught sight of a crate hanging from the curve of a palm tree.

"Tasha – I don't think he just left us in the ocean to die…" Clint said with a dark feeling of dread lurking in his voice. He felt her tense beside him as she finally caught sight of what he was staring at. He slowly sat up and dragged her up with him because of the cuffs and tugged down the box day into his lap. They stared at it warily for several minutes.

"You'll never know until you open it right?" Natasha said quietly. He nodded gravely and nervously pulled off the lid. He picked up a note sitting on top of whatever was inside the box and read it silently. He felt her lean over his shoulder and read it along with him.

'_If you survived the containment under the ocean congratulations you have extended your lives for another couple of hours. You may be wondering where I could be – but that's not important right now. However, how far you are from civilization is the bigger question. I dare you to swim and find out if you like – you might not make it through the night. I have enclosed a parting gift oh dear enemies of mine. It's one of my historic designs but I hope it'll come in handy when time is no longer on your side. Ciao.'_

_- Castro your humble Soul Liberator _

Clint froze as he stared at the contents in the box and nearly dropped it altogether.

Natasha carefully took the box from his limp hands and pulled out two rather old fashion pistols with two words engraved into the side of each.

'_One shot'_.

"He wants us to shoot each other..." Natasha said stiffly. Clint laughed humorlessly as he nearly fell to the ground in shock. She shot him a questioning look – has he gone crazy again or something?

"Barton are you okay?" she asked steadily. He shook his head and stared at her with the open honesty radiating off of him in waves.

"Tasha. Tasha I am _never _going to shoot you. I am going to shoot myself well before we get to that point," he said calmly but with absolute certainty in his voice. She gave him a cautious look and slowly pushed the box of tempting pistols away from him.

"Let's try not to get to that point Barton...we're not completely hopeless yet..." she said quietly as she sat on the ground beside him and took her left boot off. He watched her turn the boot upside down and twisted the sole of the boot so that it made a _click _sound. She promptly removed the cover and a lighter and a knife dropped in her hand.

He stared at her for several minutes. She put her boot back on and simply waited for the inevitable response he was dying to say.

"You know this makes you fucking paranoid right?" he said slowly. She snorted and gave him a dry look.

"Fire and knives have saved my ass more times than I can count Barton. And right now we are stuck on an island in the middle of the ocean with no land for hundreds of miles. A really big fire wouldn't hurt would it?" she said holding up the small lighter for him to stare at warily.

"Damn I hate your brilliant brain sometimes..." he muttered reluctantly.

She snorted.

"Get wood. Let's make this one hell of a signal," she said steadily.

Clint promptly snickered. She said wood.

Her eye twitched and she promptly held an open flame to his manly bits.

"I can light Barton Jr on fire too you know?" she growled dangerously. Clint froze and started to sweat.

"You wouldn't do that to poor Barton Jr would you? He didn't do anything wrong!" Clint exclaimed as he quickly backed away from the flame held dangerously close to his pants – but it was futile because she was still cuffed to him and only got dragged closer. Natasha gave him a dark look.

"Barton Jr wouldn't be the first appendage I lite on fire Barton," she said with a mysterious smirk.

Clint nearly fainted in horror when he realized she wasn't joking.

Oh dear god his partner was truly insane.

Lighting men's dicks on fire. God damn it why did her insanity continue to turn him on? Why? Why? Why?

Because the wild glint in her eyes was so damn _sexy_.

"Tasha you're insane!" he exclaimed in horror. She smirked and continued to hold the damn flame too close for his liking.

There was a loud growl in the distance which startled both of them enough to accidental knock into each other and effectively light Clint's pants on fire. They both froze as they watched his pants go up in flames.

"OH SHIT! OH SHIT! OH SHIT!" he shouted as he tried to take out the fire. Natasha whipped her head around to identity what the hell made that sound and tensed.

"Shut up Barton! Shut up _right now_!" Natasha hissed as she shoved him to the ground and promptly stomped out the flames on his stomach and lower with her vicious boot.

He groaned in pain and felt his eyes start to water. She just stomped Barton Jr to _death_. He was _never_ going to be able to have children.

"Fucking hell Natasha," he hissed holding his crotch in agony as he rolled over to see what the hell she was staring at and froze.

There was a pulsing angry looking jaguar staring at them from 10 meters away.

Well shit.

"I hate mother fucking nature," Natasha muttered as she slowly stood up dragging his arm with her as she gripped her single loaded shot pistol and wore a determined look on her face. She was a highly skilled assassin – being a hunter was not too different….right?

"Natasha…" Clint said warningly as he slowly pushed himself off the ground and stood behind her. Damn where had the other pistol gone? He felt her tense as she curled her finger around the trigger and aim her pistol at the frozen animal.

"The second I pull the trigger we need to start running Barton," she said tensely without looking away from the dangerous beast. Clint stiffened instantly.

"Why?" he asked cautiously. He saw her clench her jaw tightly.

"He's not going to be dead from one bullet shot," she said darkly before she cocked her gun and fired her single shot. It made direction hit with the jaguar's chest and only stunned him for a moment before it growled viciously and dragged its bleeding body to its feet – now it was just plain _mad_.

"RUN BARTON! RUN!" she shouted as she bolted into the juggle dragging his tired body behind her speeding figure. They heard an enraged howl behind them and frantically sped up as they started running in a zigzag formation. Sluggish paws hitting the juggle floor echoed behind them and they didn't darn look back lest they wanted to have their face scratched off.

"What do we do Tasha? What do we do?" Clint shouted as they raced through the juggle not even bothering to figure out where they were going or how on earth they would retrace their steps. Natasha clenched her hand around her empty gun as she sped up and forced him to increase his speed as well.

"I'M THINKING!" she shouted back and she tried to figure out how on earth they would lose a fucking jaguar on their ass while she leaped over a fallen tree.

"THINK _FASTER_!" he shouted as he jumped over the fallen trunk as well and heard an angry growl not more than 5 meters behind him crash through a bush.

"I'm not the only one with a brain here!" she growled furiously. He frantically looked around but all he saw were…_trees_.

"Up. We need to go up Tasha!" he said in realization. She tensed and shot him an annoyed look.

"How on earth do we bank enough time to do that if we are running for our _lives_?" she shrieked. He scowled as her as she viciously tugged at their cuffs and pulled him down another random section of the jungle. At this rate they were going to get to the other side of the small island and be well and truly fucked.

"Tasha. Tasha I am going to kick the beast in the face and you're going to start climbing and drag me up okay?" he said suddenly. She nearly tripped over her feet in utter shock.

"WHAT?" she screamed. He frantically shook his head.

"NO TIME JUST DO IT!" he shouted before he dragged her to a stop and spun around. An angry yellow and black spotted cat burst out of the bush and bared its fangs at a frozen assassin.

"Oh _shit_!" he shouted before he promptly ducked at it whipped out it's razor sharp claw and kicked the animal square in the chest managing to knock it several feet away from them. The second it was down Natasha dragged his body away from it and frantically started climbing up the massive tropical tree in front of her and dragged Clint by their cuffed arms with her. He followed instantly and hoped the damn beast would just _stay_ down for another second.

"KEEP CLIMBING!" he shouted from behind her as she tried to move up but got held back because of his arm that was still too low. It was rather difficult with one arm continuous being dragged back down because it was attached to his! She heard a vicious growl and froze as a familiar scream of agony instantly followed making her blood run cold.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!" he cried in pain and nearly dragged them both back down. Natasha clenched her jaw and steeled her eyes before she gripped the empty gun in her hand and whipped it at the jaguar that had its filthy teeth sinking into her partner's shin. It hit the animal with so much force it was knocked to the floor and thankfully cause it to instantly let go of Clint's leg. She felt him start to sag down the tree and firmly gripped him around the waist to keep him from crashing to the floor. His eyes were clouded with pain and she knew he was seconds away from passing out.

"Clint I need to your help for just 5 more seconds! Otherwise we are both going to fall and be fucking _eaten!_ 5 seconds Clint! Keep climbing for 5 seconds!" she pleaded as she dragged him as high as she could with the extra weight holding her down. She felt him weakly grip the tree and take his weight off of her so that she could firmly drag his limp body the rest of the way up and onto a thick branch extending out from the tree. She collapsed against the trunk and he fell on top of her breathing harshly and looking like he was going to pass out any second now.

"Barton?" she gasped in worry as he continued to spasm on top of her. The growling from below rang in their ears and reminded them of how much danger they were really in at the moment. _They were going to die. They were going to die. They were going to die. They were going to die._

"He's here Tasha – I don't know where he is but Castro is here damn it!" Clint wheezed as he saw red dots from the pain ripping through his body. Natasha grabbed his shirt and dragged him more firmly against her to make sure he didn't fall off the damn branch.

"I know we're being played with Barton! I _know_ that!" she growled angrily. Clint cried out in pain as he felt like his leg was literally on fire.

"This really fucking hurts Tasha!" he gasped as he leaned his forehead on her shoulder trying not to pass out from the pain. He was going to bleed to death any minute now.

"Of course it hurts! You just got fucking bite by a jaguar!" she shouted as she ripped a piece of her shirt off and tried to stop the rapid bleeding as she tied the piece of cloth tightly around his open wound. She heard him hold back a scream as he slumped against her shoulder in utter exhaustion. Natasha felt something shift on her wrist and froze.

"Barton…the handcuffs attached to our wrists aren't just handcuffs," Natasha said tensely. They both heard the echoing _click_ before they felt a needle stab them in the wrist and instantly passed out.

Games were over.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**THAT WAS LIKE A RACE!**

**A/N: Ah that was Castro playing mind games with them. Now the interrogation is going to start. And who really thinks Rafael Castro isn't here watching them? Told you I had an interesting torture idea. **

**Now Clintasha is beaten, hurt, exhausted and drugged. Castro is crazy but he is a genius who knows exactly how to break people. But is he going to be able to break the best team at SHIELD? **

**Does anyone know how to fix the problem when posted chapters don't show up?  
**


	38. Chapter 38

**I dare you **

**A/N: Warning: Real torture. Still T rating because it's not very explicit more straight up pain and emotions. Can Clintasha deal with it? They better. (cruel author indeed haha) **

**Chapter 38 **

All Clint could register when he came back into consciousness was the blinding pain shooting through his body as he sagged against a chair he was tightly chained to. He rolled his head around and came face to face with a loaded gun – oh joy _those_ were fun.

"Hello agent Barton," a familiar voice that really made him twitch in all the wrong ways said sadistically. Clint squinted his eyes through the hazy pain and finally recognized the blond hair and dark brown nearly black eyes.

Rafael Castro.

Well he was fucked.

"_Bastard_," he spat while nearly puking up the lunch he never had in the process of trying to get the insult out. Castro chuckled darkly and suddenly Clint felt a sharp needle get jabbed into his neck and winced as he got injected with whatever shit Castro was sticking in him.

"What the fuck was that?" Clint shouted in anger swaying slightly from the pain still coursing through his system. Castro took a step back and simply gave him a mysterious smile – Clint felt the rage bubble inside of him. Only Natasha was allowed to use smiles like that – the bastard was still fucking with his head damn it!

"Adrenaline mixed with a pain repressor," Castro said calmly as he waited for the desired results. Clint blinked as he started going numb on the outside but felt his blood course faster on the inside. It was the most _uncomfortable_ feeling he had ever felt. He narrowed his eyes at the crazy arms dealer.

"What the hell do you _want_ Castro?" Clint growled as his head finally started to clear and the pain receded temporarily. Castro chuckled darkly and opened the door behind him and let an angry struggling redhead be shoved into the room with her eyes blazing and no less than 3 guns pointed at her head. Clint froze as he watched her be walked into the room and shove up against a wall and her cuffs locked into a holder above her head. _Oh god no_. He wouldn't survive this. He noted sadly that she didn't even look at him _once_. She glared at Castro giving him a once over and spat on the ground at his feet.

"You're a pathetic piece of shit," she growled at the calm blond arms dealer. Castro raised an eyebrow.

"Ah but how could you judge me so fast Natasha? We only just met. We haven't even gotten to know each other yet," Castro said suddenly twirling the gun in his hand – but Natasha wasn't fooled. He was a damn weapons expert – he could fire that thing in under 5 milliseconds.

"I don't need time to know you - you bat shit insane _bastard_. You're just a sick little overconfident rich boy who had a disgusting desire to cause pain to all his pets when he was still in diapers," she hissed at him with the fury burning in her eyes. Castro gave her an impressed look – she was definitely a firecracker.

"Oh someone is pissed like no tomorrow," he drawled as he gave her a long look. Natasha glared at him fiercely.

"I will _kill_ you. I will cut you up into pieces and sew you back together so that I can do it again. And then I will blow your motherfucking brains out," she growled with dangerous promise. Castro cocked an eyebrow in amusement. Apparently she liked to give a show too.

"And how much of this soul sucking anger is on behalf of your bruised and battered partner?" he asked curiously. Natasha tensed but didn't look at her silent but erratically breathing partner. She was avoiding looking at his messed up body right now. She couldn't be distracted by his dangerous condition right now – no matter how life threatening it was it, it was about to get a _hell_ of a lot worse.

"I'm not going to say anything. I'll never say anything. No matter _what_ you do to my partner," she growled at them. They chose the wrong person to watch their partner get tortured – she would never crack because no matter what she did or did not say Barton was dead if she gave them what they wanted. At least he had a chance as long as she didn't say anything.

Castro smiled slowly.

"Ah but Natasha I don't want to know anything about SHIELD. I will know everything I want to know after I stick a double agent in their organization and bring them to their knees. No _you're_ here right now to prove how many times I need to shoot Clint Barton before you go insane," he said with a sadistic grin on his face. Natasha instantly tensed and Clint clenched his jaw. Oh fuck he was a psychopath. Castro pointed his gun and Clint and aimed it at his foot.

"Shall we start?" he asked calmly. Natasha roughly tugged at her cuffs and knew she could get out of them but couldn't risk it with Barton at gunpoint. She gritted her teeth.

"Fuck you Castro!" she growled and she steeled herself for the impending disaster. He smiled and cocked his gun.

BANG!

"AW _FUCK_!" Clint screamed as he slammed his eyes shut and felt the pain ripped through his already broken body as he got shot in the leg. Natasha tensed as his screams rang in her ears. Screaming never bothered her before. Never. She grew up listening to men scream. _She_ made men scream.

_He_ wasn't supposed to scream like that though.

"What the _fuck_ do you want?" Natasha shouted in rage. Castro pulled his gun back and tapped it against his chin.

"Hmm. Do you feel like chatting agent Romanoff?" he asked lazily. She clenched her jaw as she listened to her partner stifle his scream into his shoulder.

"What do you want?" she repeated angrily. He raised an interested eyebrow.

"What's the SHIELD weapon's room passcode?" he asked calmly. She didn't even blink – maybe she should have.

"060536093," she said through gritted teeth.

He stared at her enraged eyes for several heart beats.

"Liar," he said simply before he whipped out a different gun and promptly shot Clint Barton in the chest. Natasha froze.

"Oops I missed," he whispered.

"NO!" Natasha shouted as she roughly broke the cuffs that imprisoned her wrists and shot forward to strangle the bastard that just shot her partner.

"Knew you could get out of those cuffs Romanoff – but not saving the day today," he said simply before he shot her in the chest without regret or a moment of hesitance. Natasha tensed and fell to the ground with clenched teeth as she felt the projectile make contact with her chest.

_Damn tranquilizers_ was the last thought she had before she blacked out again.

For once the two partners regained conscious at the same exact time and locked eyes with each other instantly. They swiftly took in a dull dark room with scorch marks all over the walls and then stared at the condition of the other. They were both chained to metal chairs bolted to the ground while facing each other and bombs strapped to their chests.

They were fucked. They were fucked _ages_ ago.

"Natasha you have 6 minutes on your timer," Clint said steadily staring at the milliseconds speedily decreasing the digits on the screen. Natasha gritted her teeth.

"Barton you have 10 seconds less," she said stiffly. He froze.

"Don't watch Natasha. Please don't watch," he whispered pleadingly. She shot him an angry look.

"Don't watched what? My partner blow up 10 seconds before I do?" she shouted at him. He winced and looked away from her furious gaze.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. She growled and angrily pulled at the metal chains wrapped around her waist – Castro was a fucking overkill. But overkill meant she was well and truly stuck. She was so used to the damn villains underestimating her. This was a _nightmare_.

"Don't be sorry Barton. If we're going to die I don't want to hear your never-ending apologies ringing in my ears," she muttered as she burned holes into the ground with her piercing stare. She heard him take a shaky breath.

"4 minutes," he whispered. Natasha tensed.

"Don't do that to yourself Barton. Ignore the fucking numbers and just die with your dignity that they didn't drive you insane," she growled without looking up at him. He gave her a sad look.

"Is that what you always told yourself when you were second away from dying on an assignment?" he asked quietly. She didn't response right away – it wasn't like they had a lot of time to ponder deep questions though.

"If there is only one thing I have that is _mine_ and no one else gave it to me – it's my will not to be broken. No one is going to take that away from me unless I let them. And I will _never_ be broken," she growled determinedly. She heard Clint take a deep breath.

"There are all kinds of broken Natasha," he whispered. She clenched her jaw and still adamantly refused to look at him.

"3 minutes," she said quietly. He gave her a tight smile – she was such a liar. She was watching his timer the _whole_ time.

"Look at me Tasha," he said quietly. She gritted her teeth but continued to watch his timer.

"_Please_ look at me," he asked softly. Her angry green eyes shot up and locked with his calm blue ones. He was so messed up this wasn't even funny. She glared at him as he continued to stare at her with a soft smile on his face.

"Now I can die happy," he said simply relaxing against his binds. She stared at him in utter _disbelief_.

"Clint you are _insane_," she said honestly. He simply smiled at her.

"_Tasha_," he whispered. She tensed as an odd look appeared in his eyes.

"What Barton…?" she asked cautiously.

"If we live through this will you promise to kiss me?" he asked quietly. She froze.

"Barton….I will _strangle_ you if we survive this," she growled at him. She clenched her jaw as he continued to stare at her with his open expression waiting for her answer. She narrowed her eyes– _bastard_.

"_Fine_ you can have your stupid fucking dying promise," she growled without looking away. She watched his eyes soften and that simply increased the anger in her own eyes.

They both heard something that sounded like an intercom turn on.

"_Good bye Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. I will forever have the honor of taking out one of the best teams SHIELD has ever seen,"_ Castro said as his final words over the intercom before he promptly turned off the mike. Now he just got to sit back and watch the show.

People who messed with his business burned in his rage. He watched the two assassins continue their intense staring match as the timer started to enter the last 2 minutes.

Castro froze as he heard the door behind him slam open and suddenly felt was a steady gun pointed to the back of his head.

"You touch my agents you get burned," a calm voice said from behind him. He tensed as the gun dig deeper into his skull.

"Kill me and you can't stop the bombs they're attached to," Castro said through gritted teeth. There was a pause before the person responded.

"Ah but I take you as the type to die with your secrets. Good thing I can improvise," he said before he effectively shot the damn bastard in the head without regret. As the shocked face of Rafael Castro dropped to the floor Phil Coulson stared at his own reflection through the one-way window that showed him a scene he _never_ wanted to see again.

Natasha and Clint's heads whipped to the side as the only door leading into the bomb room banged opened to reveal a seriously _pissed_ Coulson.

"Coulson what the fuck? Get _out_ Coulson! There is freaking 1 minute left!" Clint shouted from the chair he was chained to. Coulson shot him a burning look.

"Just shut up Barton and let me diffuse the fucking bomb!" Coulson said irritably. They both shook their heads.

"YOU CAN'T!" they shouted at the same time.

"Why the hell not?" Coulson growled.

"There are no wires Coulson. It's like a rigged landmine," Clint said in defeat. Coulson gritted his teeth.

"Alright the old fashion way then!" Coulson shouted before he quickly shot the metal lock attached to Clint's chair and used a knife to cut the straps off the bomb pack attached to his chest. He quickly shoved the half-dead agent towards the door.

"_Go_ Barton!" Coulson shouted as he quickly turned towards the steel eyed Russian to do the same for her. Clint could barely walk and when he reached the door his eyes whipped back towards the timers still running.

"Fuck mine has 10 seconds left Coulson!" Clint shouted as the handler swiftly ripped the second bomb strap away from Natasha and she was instantly on her feet and dragging both of them out of the damn bomb room. She threw them roughly through door and slammed the door shut behind her 1 second before Clint's bomb went off. They all grabbed onto the wall as the force of the explosion shook the entire building followed by a second explosion 10 seconds later.

Castro was a motherfucking _psychopath_ indeed.

He was also a very _dead_ psychopath courtesy of Phil Coulson.

The moment Clint and Natasha's eyes connected they both collapsed to the floor in exhaustion. They didn't blow up – fantastic. Coulson steadily watched two of his best agents breathe like they had forgotten how moments ago and continued to stare at each other like they couldn't quite believe they were alive.

"How many times do you two owe me your souls?" Coulson asked steadily. They both continued to breathe harshly as they leaned against each other and just stared at their fucking amazing handler.

"A million times over Coulson," Clint finally said reluctantly looking away. He owed Coulson everything. He was the reason he joined SHIELD in the first place. He was the reason he stayed alive his first few reckless years as an agent. He was the reason Natasha Romanoff was allowed to be his partner at all. He owed him absolutely _everything_. Coulson's eyes shot towards the silent Russian sitting beside the out of breath archer. She glare at him but unwillingly gave him her piece as well.

"I only owe 2 people debts in my entire life and I will repay both one day," she growled before she promptly ripped her eyes away from his. Coulson nodded – that was the best admission he was going to get from the Russian – he needed nothing else from her. Her acknowledgement meant he had her reluctant compliance for life.

"Good. We had a rocky relationship from the beginning agents but I am your handler and it's my job to make sure you stay alive and more importantly that you stay _sane_. Alicia might be a big part of your sanity Barton – but she is not allowed to stay outside of constant SHIELD surveillance okay? If she had been with you when you got t-" Coulson started to say but Clint immediately cut him off.

"_Stop Coulson_," Clint said eyes instantly blazing. Coulson ignored the panic growing in his eyes.

"If Alicia got tortured Barton you might as well have just shot yourself. Never do it again. Never endanger her again. Never put your own emotions before her again. She is your liability but she is your responsibility as well. So _never_ do something this reckless again. Understood?" Coulson said sternly. Clint looked like he was half way to passing out from the guilt filling his lungs with water instead of air.

"_Understood_ Barton?" Coulson repeated more forcefully. Natasha nudged her hyperventilating partner to jolt him out of his self-hating daze.

"Yes. Yes I understand," he croaked as he nearly broke down right in front of them. Coulson sighed at he watched his agent start to slowly lose his mind. He was done being their strict handler.

"It's okay Clint. She's fine. You don't have to kill yourself over it anymore," Coulson said softly as he placed a calming hand on Clint's blood stained hair and watched heartbreaking dry sobs rack through his broken body.

"I-I'm sorry Coulson," he croaked as he kneeled on the dirty floor in utter shame. Coulson gave him a soft look and for a moment he didn't look as unyielding and emotionless as he usually appeared to all of SHIELD and the rest of the world.

"I forgive you Clint," he whispered. Natasha quietly watched her partner shake even harder as the words of the man he respected more than anyone else washed over him – she knew what those words meant to people like them.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Coulson is like the badass father they both never had. Won't you all just cry when he dies in the Avengers in this story? I think I might cry when I write about the funeral eventually. **

**Now we have some healing to do after a **_**lot**_** of pain. **

**Review and let me know what you thought? **


	39. Chapter 39

**I dare you **

**A/N: lalalala feels. ^.^ AFTER SUCH A HORRIBLE DAY ON FANFICTION AND EVERYTHING NOT UPDATING! AHHHHH! **

**Guest reviewer letter S haha: Yes I do read all the reviews I get! I cherish all of them it's just like I said if you guest review I can't personally response to your questions. But I'll make an exception this once. So for your question if I picture clintasha as Renner and Johannson? I would say yes of course I do but I also read up on the read comic book characters and I haven't seen Avengers in 6 months so I sort of forgot the details of what they look like exactly. But I don't try to write them too differently from the Avengers. It's just they are 9 years younger in this story. So obviously they will look a bit different. Hard to explain in words but I write them less experienced, less sharp, less world wary, a bit more youthful, a bit more reckless and definitely more stubborn. Hope that helped! **

**Chapter 39 **

Natasha tensed as she felt herself be unwillingly dragged into wakefulness for the 4th time in the last 12 hours. The first three times she was rudely awaken to the crazy shit a psychopath names Rafael Castro cooked up for them. She tensed as she prepared herself for a fourth round but then she felt all the memories after the bomb set off without blowing them up flood her mind and she relaxed the slightest amount. Coulson. Barton. Rescue. Right. She then finally felt the cold sheets beneath her aching body and smelled the sterilized scent in the air. The only thing that kept her from going into her own version of a panic attack was the distinct feeling of no medical bracelet around her wrist. She wasn't in a normal hospital.

_Ugh_ - but she hated this place all the same.

Her eyes flashed open and she confirmed her horrible situation. She was in SHIELD medical. Time to change that _fast_. She scanned the room carefully and when she turned to look to her left she found blue eyes staring at her quietly. She took in his stiff posture that spoke of aches and pains he was adamantly ignoring even though she was sure he had an unhealthy amount of painkillers pumping through his system. He had thick gauze wrapped around his forehead and several half healed cuts and ugly bruises covered his rugged face. She tore her eyes away from his beat up face and let them travel down his body until she caught sight of the two red stained bandages wrapped around his left leg. One was due to a damn jaguar bite and the other was courtesy of a dead arms dealer's bullet. Overall he wasn't in great condition at all. She dragged her eyes back up to his questioning ones and gave him a pointed look.

"You look like _shit_ Barton," she said bluntly without any regard for his pride. He promptly snorted and rolled his eyes – she was brutal with her words as always. What a charmer indeed.

"You look like shit too Romanoff," he said dryly. She glanced down at the bandages wrapped around her arms and itchy patches of medical gauze taped to her face. She reached up and felt the almost completely healed cut across her cheek and sighed.

"Not as bad as you do Barton," she said quietly staring at the bandages she knew she wouldn't need in a few hours – but he would need his for another few days. He caught on to her thoughts faster than she was comfortable with and slowly shook his head.

"It doesn't matter Tasha. None of this matters. What matters is that we're both alive," he said softly pushing himself into a sitting position and turning towards her to get off his bed. She reacted on instinct.

"_Don't move_!" she said quickly before she froze and cursed herself for sounding like an idiot. She rubbed her face and tried to get a hold of her mess of emotions. She was acting like a damn worried little girl or something. She wasn't one of those stupid helpless damsels in distresses who just fucking _distressed_ over everything. She wasn't a pathetic princess who never picked up a damn rock or something and saved themselves for once in their picture perfect lives. She gritted her teeth and took several deep breaths before she steeled her expression and finally looked up to realize he was sitting at the edge of his medical bed staring at her with serious eyes. She hated his serious eyes.

"I'm not made of glass Tasha…" he said carefully. She clenched her jaw and looked away from his tense gaze – she didn't want to see the slight hurt he was hiding. There was a brief silence before he finally spoke again.

"I don't treat you like glass Tasha so please do me the favour and don't treat me like that either," he said firmly before he pushed himself off his bed and slowly walked over to hers – the limp was subtly but she caught it immediately. Which meant he was letting her see it. She looked up at his calm eyes and glared at him when he raised an eyebrow at her.

"Move over," he ordered softly as he stood beside her bed. She shot him a dirty look but reluctantly did as he asked before he collapsed and they accused her of killing her partner or something stupid like that. He sat down over the sheets beside her and suddenly all pretense of being okay was gone and his shoulders sagged as he groaned in pain and leaned his forehead against her shoulder. She sighed and banged her head against the wall behind them. She ignored how much that action actually hurt like hell.

"You are such a stupid bastard," she muttered as she listened to him breathe unevenly against her. He chuckled against her neck and she tensed as his lips brushed her skin.

"Nah I think a certain dead guy deserves that honorable title more Tasha," he said as he took a deep breath and willed the pain away for a moment. She suddenly clenched her jaw as the rage burned through her blood.

"Oh no. He deserves something a _lot_ worse. That little jackass pissed me off so fucking much," she growled angrily. She wanted to just punch the wall beside her but stayed stiff as a board so that she wouldn't accidentally injure him even more. She felt him shift and ignored how he was basically putting most of his weight on her shoulder making her the primary thing holding him up at the moment. She felt him think against her and knew he was going to go loopy on her again. He always seemed to go soft after all their missions.

"I'm glad you're alive Tasha," he whispered quietly. She slammed her eyes shut and listened to his steady breathing against her skin. She felt him slowly wrapped his arms around her waist and dragged himself closer to her. She took a deep breath.

"You're going to get your ass whipped by a doctor if they find you out of your own bed Barton. Go back," she said warningly as she stiffened in his arms. He froze as he heard the real meaning behind her words. _Go back before they see us and think we're compromised._

"Why is everyone so damn scared of feelings around here?" he grumbled as he reluctantly pulled back and stared at her dead in eyes. She stared back with a guarded expression. He could practically feel the walls go up between them. It was getting annoying.

"Cause feelings get you killed," she said firmly. He narrowed his eyes.

"Letting things simmer under the surface can get you killed too you know," he said steadily. She glared at him and clenched her fists at her side.

"Don't make me give you a concussion to go with your broken body Barton," she said dangerously. He chuckled and lightly patted her on the cheek. She tensed and literally shook with rage and the urge to slap him across his already beat up face.

"Honey there is no more space left on my head to give me a new concussion," he said cheekily. She roughly shoved his hand away from her and shot him an annoyed look.

"Get off my bed Barton," she growled. He suddenly gave her a lopsided grin.

"Sure. See you later Tasha," he said unexpectedly. She paused slightly stunned by his response.

"Where are you going?" she asked slowly as she watched him limp back to his side of the room.

"Home," he said simply. She lost the anger and gave him a confused look.

"We're not going to be released right now," she said carefully. He shrugged as he pulled his boots out from under his own personal stack of bricks that masqueraded as a bed.

"I want to sleep in my own damn bed even if I only sleep in it like once a week. It's better than _this_ hellhole," he grumbled as he slowly searched for his clothes in the drawer beside him. She paused as she watched him take out his SHIELD uniform and saw him shoot her a curious look.

"Wanna come with?" he asked softly. She scoffed and crossed her arms.

"Coulson will kill us," she muttered reluctantly. Clint rolled his eyes.

"He just saved our ass. I think he is going to wait at least a little while before he tries to kill us," he said dryly. She snorted halfheartedly and stared at the sheets in front of her. She suddenly felt him shift over to her side of the room. She silently watched as he tugged open her drawer and pulled out her own uniform. He held it out to her and she glanced up at his patient eyes with a cautious look.

"Let's go home Tasha," he said quietly. He watched an odd expression cross her face.

"I don't have a home Barton," she said softly looking away from him. He gave her a weak smile and grabbed her hand lightly and tugged it to bring her eyes back to him.

"Sure you do. It's where you want to be most _right now_ Tasha. Where do you want to be the most?" he asked patiently. She gave him a wary look.

"Our apartment is a really _shitty_ place," she muttered irritably. He cocked an eyebrow.

"But do you still want to be there though?" he asked giving her a knowing look. She stared at their joined hands and suddenly sighed reluctantly.

"Hell yeah," she grumbled. Anywhere was better than _here_. He laughed and handed her uniform to her.

"Let's get out of here then Tasha," he said simply.

10 minutes later two properly dressed assassins had successfully snuck out of SHIELD medical without alerting the attention of any nosy nurses and were slowly making their way towards the underground parking lot. It was their job to be sneaky – they had no qualms of using their skills outside of missions as well to save them from their own organization.

"Ready to run away before the docs catch up with needles blazing Romanoff?" Clint whispered in a low voice like they were in a bad spy movie. Natasha gave him a dry look.

"Stop trying to be dramatic. You're limping – it's pathetic," she said frankly. Clint scowled at her– she really knew how to stoke an ego alright. They rounded the corner leading into the underground SHIELD parking lot but froze as they came face to face with a bored looking handler reading the newspaper while leaning against Clint's car.

Well damn there went _their_ plans of escape without detection.

"Planning on going somewhere?" Coulson asked casually without looking up from his paper. He actually looked like he was reading it too. Clint coughed into his fist and shared a wary look with his partner.

"We could just run for it…" Clint tried feebly. Coulson dropped his pretense of reading and threw the newspaper over his shoulder as he gave Clint's heavily injured leg a pointed look along with the way he was slightly leaning on his stiff partner beside him.

"You ain't running _nowhere_ any time soon Barton," Coulson said dryly. Clint scowled at the rather bemused looking handler blocking his much desired escape method. He was right – there was no way he could walk home – at least not after a mission like _that_. Clint finally just sighed and gave Coulson and pleading look.

"Don't make us go back to medical Coulson – it's honestly the last place we want to be right now," Clint said in defeat. He didn't have enough energy to fight the man who saved his ass too many times only being outnumbered by the silent Russian beside him. She saved his ass every single _day_ of his pathetic life. He also didn't have the privilege of directly disobeying an order from Coulson– not when they both owed him a life debt. Coulson sighed and crossed his arms.

"If I _do_ tell you to go back and get released properly like you are supposed to would you go back?" Coulson asked steadily. Clint and Natasha gave him a wary look. They would – they had to. So they nodded reluctantly. Coulson gave them a weak smile and walked over to the beaten and exhausted assassins. He gave Clint a patted on the shoulder and shot Natasha a significant look.

"Go home and take a damn nap – _but. _And you should listen carefully to my buts. If _either_ of you end up M.I.A over the next month I will seriously whip your asses – understood agents?" he said firmly. They both winced – Coulson was a devil ninja disguised at an icy agent of punishment and paperwork. But they nodded reluctantly again.

"Good. Get out of here. You two look like shit," Coulson said stepping to the side and allowing them to pass him with grateful looks. Clint suddenly stopped walking for a moment causing Natasha to pause in her step and turn to give him a questioning look. He glanced back at the handler who was about to head back into the building. Coulson raised an eyebrow at the all sudden unspoken questions hanging in the air.

"How did you find us Coulson?" Clint asked slowly – it had been on his mind since the moment he laid eyes on the handler he never thought he would see again. Coulson gave him one of those damn secretive smiles that said _I'm older then you and I know more shit then you so you should be scared you ever asked Barton_.

"Why do you think I punched you Barton?" he asked calmly. Clint froze and his hand instantly slapped against his bruised cheek. Coulson chuckled at his obvious reaction.

"It's probably gone now," Coulson said with a small smirk playing at his lips as he spun around and walked back inside leaving a gaping agent in his wake. Natasha glanced at her still stunned partner and sighed.

"He's the perfect agent isn't he?" Natasha muttered from beside him. Clint scoffed.

"Perfectly _annoying_! That bastard tagged me!" he growled as he spun around and noisily stomped towards his car. Natasha gave him a wary look as she followed behind him without making a sound as her feet glided across the concrete floor. She was like a shadow to his big flashy show.

"Makes you thankful that there is still someone better than us out there to save our ass," she said quietly as she gracefully fell into the passenger's seat. He dropped into the driver seat beside her and stared at the steering wheel for several heart beats before he finally started the car.

"Only when they are on our side Tasha – only when they are on our side," Clint said carefully as he pulled out of the parking space and smoothly maneuvered them out of the underground parking lot.

They would be royally screwed if they ever met someone better than Coulson on the other side.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Woo! Escaped – with permission? LMAO FAIL! **

**Anyone still wondering about that promised kiss she still owes him? **

**Gosh I wonder what they're going to do when they get home? **

**hehe. Find out tomorrow!(IF FFN LETS YOU!)  
**


	40. Chapter 40

**I dare you **

**A/N: lalalala ;) Clintasha. ehehehe. OH LOOK I UPDATED AGAIN? Cause I was so bored all Saturday cause no stories to read LOL You're going to love this :D eh...angsty as it always will be though.  
**

**Chapter 40 **

Clint heavily leaned against the wall beside their apartment door as Natasha tiredly searched for the damn keys in her mission pack. They were lost in the mess of survival junk and weapons again.

"Seriously Barton we should just tape the damn key to the wall or just keep the place unlocked so that we don't have to go through this every single damn week!" Natasha said irritably with her hand stuffed inside her pack. He flashed her a mischievous grin.

"But then we would have to barge in and scout the place for enemies every single time Tasha," he said cheekily. She shot him an annoyed look.

"We already _do_ that!" she growled. He chuckled and stared up at the ceiling as she continued to search – she was right as always.

"Finally!" she cried as she found the annoying tool and jammed it into the keyhole before she threw open their door and stormed into the rundown apartment. Clint followed behind her in a more sane fashion and quietly shut the door behind him. He watched her angrily throw her pack onto the couch before she forcefully _whipped_ the innocent keys at the wall. Something was definitely up.

"Tasha. Tasha calm down. It's just a door…" he said slowly walking up behind her and placing his hands gently on her shoulders. He felt her tense and jerk around nearly slamming her elbow into his stomach but tensely stopped herself before she made direct contact with him. He felt the tension spike in her stiff body as she vibrated in place with barely contained anger. Now the question was what was she angry about?

"Tasha why are you acting so weird?" he asked quietly spinning her stiff body around and forcing her to look up at his cautious eyes. She gritted her teeth and instantly pulled away from his grasp. He let her go because she looked like she was literally about to lose it.

"I think I'm just overtired. My head is really not working right now," she said tightly as she quickly tried to slam a wall down on her violent emotions that were annoying the hell out of her. He watched her reign in her exploding rage and took a step closer when he really should have been running in the other direction. He never did what was logical anyway.

"Are you mad about the mission Tasha?" he asked quietly. He felt her tense as he stood in front of her and saw her clench her fists at her side.

"It's not just the fucked up mission Barton," she said darkly hiding her eyes behind her bangs. He gently took her hand in his and slowly pulled it up to his neck and let her feel his steady pulse while he reached out and felt her much faster one.

"We're both survived Tasha. We're both going to be okay," he whispered softly. He felt her limp hand tense against his neck.

"Barton…I gave him the real code," she said tensely. He didn't move a muscle as he steadily stared at the wall over her shoulder.

"I know," he said quietly. She continued to stare at his chest with her hand still feeling his steady unchanging pulse. He wasn't reacting on purpose.

"I should be executed for treason," she said stiffly. He tensed and held her hand tighter.

"You won't be. No one is going to know because Castro is _dead_," he said determinedly. She clenched her jaw.

"I'm a liability," she growled. He firmly shook his head and dragged her body into a bone crushing hug.

"You're not a liability Tasha. You're the best fucking thing that has ever happened to this piss poor sorority of spies," he whispered fervently into her hair. Natasha snorted softly against his shirt as she finally started to calm down from her intense self-destructing due to self-hatred episode.

"Did you just call SHIELD a sorority?" she asked dryly. He chuckled and he held her tighter.

"Maybe," he whispered. He felt the tension slowly ebb away from her body until she was finally as relaxed as she normally is (which isn't much). He watched as she slowly pulled away from him and blinked the emotions out of her eyes. He gave her a cautious look as she carefully stepped back and looked anywhere but at him.

"I made a mistake. I'm sorry," she said quietly. He knew from the tense undertone it took a lot for her to say that. He slowly shook his head.

"Don't be sorry Tasha. If our roles were reversed I would have cracked a lot sooner. Well before he even had the chance to shoot you. Thank you for you being the stronger then that though," he whispered hesitantly. Natasha's eyes shot up to give him a piecing look.

"There is nothing strong about watching your partner die before your very eyes," she said evenly. He smiled softly at her.

"Holding out on giving a terrorist the means to destroy millions required strength. You were so good he didn't even believe your truth," he said quietly. She clenched her jaw.

"Barton – if he wasn't so insane as to want to play with us until _we_ were driven insane we would already be dead long before Coulson showed up," she said evenly as she stared at the ground. Clint reached out and lightly cupped her cheek with his rough but warm hand.

"Guess we're a pair of lucky bastards eh Tasha?" he said warmly. She gave him a searching look. He didn't know what she was looking for but eventually she pulled away and hesitantly wrapped her arms around herself.

"Good night Barton," she said quietly looking away from him. His eyes soften – she wasn't going to sleep. No one can sleep after a mission like that. He let her have her lies anyway though.

"Good night Tasha," he whispered dropping his hand to his side and turning away from his reserved partner. He was exhausted and even though he knew if he closed his eyes he was going to hear her screams in his nightmares he still wanted to just lie there and rest his aching body.

"Barton…." she said suddenly sounding uneasy. He paused on his way to his room and turned around to give her a funny look.

"What's up Tasha?" he asked carefully. She was never hesitant when she wanted something from him. This was odd. This was _beyond_ odd. She gripped herself tightly and wrinkled her brow in frustration.

"I…Barton…" she tried again but she growled when she couldn't get the damn words right. He took a step closer and grasped her gently by the shoulders and gave her a patient look.

"What's wrong Tasha?" he asked calmly staring at her. He watched her steel her resolve and finally just plowed through her uncertainty.

"Barton…do you want that kiss now?" she asked practically forcing the words out of her mouth. He froze.

_Oh_.

Well that was stupid. He ignored the side of his brain that screamed _hell yes!_ Because that would be a _lie_. He didn't want it – not like this. He suddenly sighed but gave her a weak smile.

"No Tasha. It's okay. Don't worry about," he said shaking his head out of sheer iron will because his damn heart was screaming at him like it wanted to shoot the logical side of his brain. But he knew he couldn't let her do it. He was saving himself from even more heartache later. Natasha blinked slightly stunned but then she quickly got control of her expression and narrowed her eyes at him.

"I promised. I keep my damn word," Natasha growled. Clint quickly flashed her a cheeky smile to throw her off. He really _didn't_ want it.

"Mmmmmm, but I don't want it anymore," he said simply masking the turmoil he was feeling on the inside easily. She froze.

"What the fuck do you mean you don't want it anymore?" she asked in disbelief. What the hell? He just smiled at her.

"I want you to kiss me because you want to not because you have to," Clint said with a shrug as he turned away from her stunned expression.

"The _fuck_?" she shouted at his retreating back. He smiled deviously as he heard her growl in frustration.

"You know Tasha it would all be so much easier if you just let yourself feel something, but we all know how strongly you like to pretend you're a void don't we?" he said as he turned around to give her a knowing look but he was instantly bombarded by a face full of angry Russian. Before he even had the time to blink he was roughly shoved into the wall behind them and had an angry pair of lips crashing down on his. To say he was stunned by the impromptu kiss would be a lie. To say it didn't absolutely blow his mind and cause his heart to clench painfully would be a lie too.

He felt her arms snake up his body and tightly grip his hair like the first time. She roughly pulled his head down and kissed him harder and with more urgency then the first time too. This kiss was more Natasha's style then Clint's but he didn't care because as long as it was real he would be happy. And then he froze and instantly ripped away from her tempting kiss and gasped for breath.

"Wait no. Wait is this still because of the promise or-" he tried to say half dazed by the mind-blowing kiss but Natasha promptly cut him off.

"Shut up Barton!" she growled before she dragged his face back down and smashed their lips together once more and he was lost in her scent, her touch, her skin. He dreamed about kissing Natasha Romanoff even back when they first met when she was _really_ trying to kill him but all he wanted was for them to drop their weapons and be on the same side.

But somewhere along the way something change and he didn't want to just kiss her anymore – he wanted her to kiss _him_. He wanted her to _want_ to kiss him. He didn't want the Black Widow. He didn't want to be a target. He didn't want a one off thing. He wanted to be the person she desired above everyone else. He wanted to be the only man that made her lose her iron control.

He wanted the real Natasha Romanoff under all the masks, the walls and the lies. He wanted the girl who took sick pleasure in seeing him squirm under her gun and played nasty pranks on him whenever she felt a bit too sadistic that day. He wanted the girl who made stony silences sound like an intense shouting match and could beat his ass into the ground anytime any day of the week. He wanted the girl who scared the shit out of every single operative at SHIELD and caused a few junior agents to start crying with her sharp words. Damn it he didn't just want a part of her – he wanted _all_ of her.

He slowly wrapped his arms around her slim waist and walked them back into their rather _empty_ living room – thank god the place came with a couch because he wasn't sure how long he could continue standing with his injured leg. He felt his shin hit the back of the couch and he fell back against the cushions dragging an _extremely_ responsive Natasha with him.

He groaned when he felt her drop all her weight down onto his lap – he didn't know if it was from pain or pleasure though. He thinks it was probably both – god he _was_ a masochist. He tried to slow down the kiss but she was adamant in keeping it fast and passionate. He contented himself with gently running his hand up and down her back and feeling all the bumps and bruises she still carried from their latest mission troubles. He wished she wouldn't get so beat up during missions but really he was just glad she was usually better off than he was.

He gasped a little as he felt her grip in his hair tighten and that just allowed her to deepen the kiss. He thinks he was seeing stars behind his eyelids because whatever she was doing to him wasn't sane. But at the same time he's never felt as grounded in his entire life. He never imagined he would want a girl like Natasha Romanoff. He didn't dream of redheaded Russians who could slit his throat faster than he could blink. He didn't yearn for women who wiped the floor with him. He _really_ didn't ask for any of this and he sure as hell didn't think having his balls at gunpoint would be a stupid fucking turn on.

_Damn the shit you do to me Tasha. _

Because he wanted all of that after he met her. There was nothing else he wanted anymore. Damn she ruined him for _all_ other women. If Natasha truly didn't want him he didn't know what he would do. The only thing that keeps him going is the fact that he knows deep down she felt something too. Otherwise she wouldn't be here right now sitting in his lap, on a really ugly couch, kissing his breath away. If she didn't feel it too then she would have ditched his ass as soon as he all but declared him feelings for her after the Colombia mission ended. She had to be here by choice. He _needed_ her to be here by choice. He knew she was here by choice.

Because there was no one else around to watch. No mission to demand the need for distraction or lies. No messed up drug pumping through their veins. No, it was just them, in their private space and god damn it he was never going to let her go. No matter _what_ she did. No matter how much she said she didn't want him because he knew she did. The way she looked at him when she thought he wasn't looking told him she did. Her rapid heartbeat told him she did. The breathy sounds she was making told him she did. The way she was practically molding their bodies together told him she did.

She wanted him just as bad as he wanted her _damn it. _

And it was true. Natasha never denied she was attracted to the stupid bastard. She always knew there was something about him that made her stomach twist in an annoying way and her had blood rushing through her veins a bit faster than it was supposed to. She was adamantly ignoring it because it wasn't supposed to happen but he was so damn _persistent _and damn it she wanted to wipe off the devious smirk he always wore on his face– the one when he knows he was getting to her so _bad_. She wanted to slap him every time he made one of his dirty jokes. She wanted to shake him when he started talking about things she wasn't comfortable with. But damn it she wanted to kiss him ever since he looked at with dark desire in his eyes at the end of the Hoffa mission. Fuck if she was truly honest she wanted this since the moment he lowered his bow. Damn he drove her insane – absolutely fucking insane.

She felt the hesitancy in his touch as he strictly kept his hands on her back and in safe places. She chuckled against his mouth at his uncharacteristic gentlemanliness and took hold of one of his hand and dragged it between their practically merged bodies and placed it over her beasts. He nearly squeaked as she forced him to squeeze one of them. She snickered when he instantly dragged his hand away not really ready to go that far. All he really wanted was to feel her relax for once and return his damn _affections_.

She finally allowed him to slow down the damn kiss and he sighed in relief. He loved her enthusiasm – really he did. He wanted it for way too damn long. But it was just so much nicer to kiss her like they had all the time in the world. He rested his hands on her hips and simply poured all his feelings into their softer kiss. He let go of his control and let everything he was feeling flood his body and radiate through his gentle touch. Natasha wasn't just anyone – she was _the_ one.

She froze when she realized he wasn't kissing her like any other man she's ever kissed. He wasn't kissing her because she was the closest pretty face in sight. He wasn't kissing her because she was some imaginary character she made up to lure him like a target. He wasn't even kissing her to get into her pants. He was kissing her because he genuinely _wanted_ to. He was kissing her like she was the air he breathed and then scared the shit out of her because she didn't know if she wanted the same thing. She didn't know if she was capable of the things he was asking for. She didn't know if she could give enough of herself to compensate for the amount he was willing to give her. She felt the uneasiness rise in her chest and suddenly she roughly yanked his head back and pulled his mouth away from hers. They both gasped for breath as they stared at each other.

"_Shit_. I'm sorry. That was going too far," she said inhaling a deep breath of air. He stared up at her in confusion while trying to catch his breath as well. His hands were still grasping her hips and hers were still buried in his hair.

"What?" he said still in a daze. She pulled her hands out of his hair and rubbed her forehead angrily. God how could she keep letting him do this to them?

"Fuck. I'm sorry. That – that was stupid of me," she growled leaning farther away from his flushed face trying to quickly gain some control over her stupid body. Now he was just downright _confused_.

"What? What are you talking about Natasha? We just shared a kiss didn't we?" he asked slowly. She clenched her jaw and looked away.

"I know but the kiss means something entirely different to you then to _me_ Barton! I keep trying to tell you you're going to be disappointed! I don't do feelings and shit like that Barton. And that isn't even the worst part," she said angrily pushing herself off of him to walk away but he was shooting after her like lightning. He caught up to her easily and firmly grasped her by the forearms so that he could spin her around and glare at her. Like _hell_ he was going to let her keep running after something like that.

"Fuck this Tasha. Kiss me again. I dare you to kiss me again and tell me you don't feel anything," he challenged angrily. She stared at him in disbelief.

"That's not even the point Barton! Feeling something is not the _point_!" she shouted pulling at her hair in frustration. Why doesn't he understand?

"Then what _is_ your point Natasha? Because I sure as hell am not seeing it!" he growled. She shook her head angrily.

"It shouldn't _happen_ Barton! This shouldn't be happening!" she growled gesturing between the two of them. He narrowed his eyes.

"Who said? When did you start caring about what other people thought?" he asked dangerously. She clenched her jaw in anger.

"When hundreds of partners prove they end up _dead_ when they're compromised!" she bellowed at him. They both stared at each other with intense eyes as her voice echoed around the suddenly silent room. Clint saw something that looked too much like fear flash across her eyes and he finally understood.

"What's his name?" he asked harshly. She tensed and backed away.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she growled. He shook his head and stalked forward walking her into a wall.

"What's his name Tasha? Which one of your past partners died?" he asked slamming his hands on the wall on either side of her head trapping her in place with his body and his intense gaze.

"No one died Barton," she said tensely. His eyes darkened in jealousy mixed with the need to prove himself.

"Whoever he was I'm _better_ Tasha. I would never let our relationship get in the way of our job. I would never jeopardize your safety in the field. I would never let you get hurt because I wasn't paying attention. Never Tasha. I promise you the second I allow my feelings to cloud my judgment I'll walk away," he said intensely. Natasha firmly shook her head.

"There wasn't anyone else Barton," she growled. He didn't believe her for a second.

"Was he Russian? Was he older then you? Was he part of the Red Room with you?" he continued to fire question after question at his rigid partner. She didn't understand where this was all _coming_ from.

"Stop it Barton! Just stop it! Barton you are crafting a gigantic _lie_!" she shouted as she clenched her fists at her sides.

"Did you love him?" he growled heatedly. She inhaled sharply.

"I don't believe in love Barton. Love is for children," she said tensely. He laughed darkly.

"I don't believe _you_ Tasha. I rarely believe what comes out of your mouth. Your eyes always hide such a big mystery of your life Tasha. Maybe you don't believe in love. Maybe you never will – but there has to be something equivalent that you've felt before. You're not a void Tasha. I've known you too long for you to lie about that," he said dangerously. Her eyes steeled suddenly.

"I can never give you what you want Barton," she said dangerously. He narrowed his eyes.

"How do you know?" he said ominously. She shook her head.

"One day it won't be enough Barton. One day you'll want things to be different. One day you'll want me to be softer, or warmer or more feminine. I'm never going to change Barton. I'll never be those things all men want," she said angrily. He tensed.

"I'll never want those things Tasha. I'll never want you to be something you're not," he said firmly.

"You don't know that," she hissed.

"Yes I _do_," he growled.

"No Barton you _think_ you know what you want but you don't. You just met me. You haven't even been partners with me for a year yet. You don't even know half the things about me or my past. There is no _way_ you know what you are getting into. Forget the hundreds of people I murdered in cold blood. Forget the horrors and atrocities I committed all over the world. Forget the families I destroyed and lives I ruined. You don't know enough about me to understand why we can't be what you want us to be Barton. I'm your partner yes. I'll even be your friend if you want me to be. But until you realize who exactly I actually am there is no way you know what you want," she said firmly. He clenched his jaw.

"I can wait," he said determinedly. She shook her head firmly.

"I'm not asking you to wait Clint. I'm asking you to stop before you're in too deep," she said decisively.

"How many hearts have you broken Tasha?" he asked suddenly. She tensed.

"Only weak hearts break because of something pathetic as rejection Barton," she said cautiously.

"I'm not weak," he said darkly. She clenched her jaw.

"If I thought you were weak Barton we wouldn't _be_ here," she said dangerously.

"How long do we need to be partners before I know who Natasha Romanoff really is?" he asked carefully. She tensed.

"Never long enough," she said tensely. He forcefully shook his head.

"That's not good enough Tasha," he said angrily. Her eyes blazed in barely restrained fury.

"You really like to push me until we're at the brink of insanity Barton," she said warningly. He chuckled darkly and the deep vibrations ripping through her body made her freeze in place.

"Tasha. Tasha I _live_ on the brick of insanity," he whispered inches from her face. She narrowed her eyes.

"We are not stable people Barton. How on _earth_ would we have a stable relationship?" she demanded. He gave her a soft calm smile and she watched guardedly as the looming darkness that lurked in his gaze faded as he cupped her face in his hands that were always gentle but capable of breaking skulls.

"Because you chase away the madness Tasha. You make me feel sane. You make me not want to die anymore," he whispered staring at her with his sharp sniper eyes that saw everything and was currently hiding nothing. She inhaled sharply as she watched the emotions storm behind them.

"That is dangerous Barton. Don't give me that power. I am _not_ a nice person," she said angrily. His calm smile never wavered.

"I don't trust nice people Tasha," he said softly. She tensed.

"So you trust liars instead?" she asked irritably. He gently grazed his thumb across her tense cheek and felt her hold back a shiver. His smile widened slightly.

"I can trust a liar to lie to me every single time but I can never trust an honest person to always tell me the truth," he whispered. She shook her head between his warm hands in disbelief.

"You're fucking logic makes no damn _sense_," she growled. He laughed softly and pulled her into a bone-crushing embrace. She gritted her teeth as he wrapped his arms around her tightly and leaned his head against her shoulder.

"_Life_ makes no sense Tasha," he whispered in her ear. Natasha steeled her eyes as she felt him hold her tighter. No one ever stayed this long. No one ever tried this hard. But she needed to be sure – she couldn't just let go. She wasn't built like that.

"4 months," she said suddenly. He paused and pulled back to give her a questioning look.

"What?" he asked slowly. She took a deep breath.

"We'll be partners for a year in 4 months," she said steadily. He gave her a cautious look.

"And what happens at 4 months?" he asked quietly as he stared down at her. She stared back at him with firm eyes.

"Us," she said simply. He froze and felt his pulse speed up involuntarily.

"What does _us_ mean?" he asked carefully while ignoring the intense pounding in his ears. She suddenly lost the confident look in her eyes and look away.

"I don't know," she muttered. He stared at her for several minutes as she burned a hole into his shirt. He then made a choice. He let go of her waist and slowly stepped away from her warm body. She gave him a guarded look as he increased the distance between them.

"4 months," he said carefully staring at her with all the crazy emotions swirling in his eyes – and then he blinked and they were gone. She couldn't see anything on his face but she was damn sure it was all still there. He was wearing his calm mask again.

"1 year as partners," she said cautiously. He nodded slowly.

"I can deal with that. But you still haven't told me what his name is Tasha," he said quietly but with a dangerous undertone. She tensed as she turned away from him and steeled her eyes. They were going to be just partners for the next 4 months. He needed to prove that they could work together with or without something between them.

"I'm not going to tell you Barton – because he's not dead," she said heatedly before she walked out of the room leaving him in silence.

_CRASH._

She knew he just punched a hole through the wall. Well that wasn't a very good start.

**A/N: Damn she is intense. And she can justify why they can't be together yet. He really **_**doesn't**_** know her well enough yet. But hey she kissed him? It was a pretty good kiss too. **

**Don't expect lovey dovey though. Never going to happen. Weird assassin romance might. **

**Now. TAKE A GUESS! Who could Natasha Romanoff's past love interest be? Comic related duh. And we'll even meet him one day soon and Clint will be so damn jealous and won't this be fun? Ahahaha. **

**I'm evil. **

**Review and I'll updated again tonight maybe cause I might have already wrote the next chapter. hehe ^.^ **


	41. Chapter 41

**SO FOR YOU POOR CONFUSED PEOPLE WITH NO CONCEPT OF TIME! I AM HERE TO SAVE YOU! **

**START: 9 YEARS BEFORE AVENGERS IN 2012**

**Natasha Romanoff: 21**

**Clint Barton: 24 **

**Alicia Vargaras: 9 **

**Phil Coulson: 32**

**Fury: Who the **_**heck**_** knows? **

**Timeline **_**before I Dare You**_** (BORING TIME PERIOD OVER DONE ON FANFICTION CHOSE NOT TO WRITE ABOUT IT)**

**2003 **

**Early January–** Agent Barton is sent on an assignment to take out the Black Widow but instead he brings her in and they become partners

**Mid-January**- Romanoff spends 3 weeks in intensive interrogation

**February to April** – Romanoff spend 3 months doing missions with Barton under the watchful eye of Phil Coulson

**May to June**- Romanoff and Barton start doing missions on their own and they are cold as ice but efficient as hell.

**6 months into their partnership Start of **_**I Dare You**_** Timeline (YAY)**

**2003 **

**Early July** – _MISSION 1:_ Blew up a Cuban drug trafficking convoy.

_TARGETS ASSASSINATED VIA:_ Exploding arrow courtesy of Agent Barton.

**Early July**- _MISSION 2:_ Busting a gay Mafia boss Marcus Hoffa doing business with terrorists.

_TARGETS ASSASSINATED VIA:_ Makeshift bomb courtesy of Agent Romanoff.

**Mid July** – _RECOVERY 1_: Barton has 3 broken ribs from being shot by his partner but with a bulletproof vest.

_RECOVERY TIME: _1 week in SHIELD medical.

**Mid July- **_MISSION 3:_Sent to Spain to take out ex-SHIELD agent Antonio Vargaras who landed himself in high security prison on purpose to carry out plans to drop a nuclear bomb on Madrid. Train to Madrid was rigged with civilian bombs. Barton saved daughter of target named Alicia Vargaras. They used kid to get into prison and take out Vargaras.

_TARGET ASSASSINATED VIA:_ Unsuccessfully executed by Agent Barton.

_TARGET DEATH_: Suicide.

**Mid- July** – _RECOVERY 2:_ Romanoff was shot in the shoulder.

_RECOVERY TIME_: 1 day.

_REASON:_ Red Room Enhancers.

**Mid-July to Mid-August –** _FOLLOW UP TO MISSION 3_: 3 weeks in Spain for surveillance of terrorist group.

_REASON:_ Punishment for being compromised by enemy relations.

**Mid-august** – _OFF TIME 1_: Clint and Natasha return to their apartment in New York. Have a drink at a bar. Become friends.

**End-of-august -**_MISSION 4:_ Destroy Rafael Castro's arms base under a sanctuary in the protected rainforests of Colombia.

_TARGETS ASSASSINATED VIA:_ Nanobots courtesy of Agent Barton.

**End-of-August** – Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff M.I.A for 1 week.

**Early September** – 3 day vacation with Alicia Vargaras cut short by Coulson. Followed up with capture by Rafael Castro.

**Early September** – Hunger games style torture games conducted by Rafael Castro in the Caribbean ocean, random deserted island, compromising interrogation, strapped to bombs. Saved by Coulson.

_ENEMY ASSASSINATED VIA:_ Coulson's badass bullet.

**CURRENTLY: Early September** – _RECOVERY 3:_ Barton shot once in the leg, bit by wild cat, probably concussed. Romanoff scratched up and bruised but relatively better off as usual.

***4 months until December. 4 months until 1 year of Blackhawk partnership. **

_Rest of the story you get to find out. Do you like my notes? Do you wish you had the whole thing? HAHA!_

**Too bad. Read and find out the fun way!**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**I dare you **

**A/N: No assassin love without some angst right? Maybe you'll catch my little trend. **

**Chapter 41**

After yet another intense confrontation with his partner Clint had called it a night. He could only handle so much drama with Natasha. She really knew exactly how to rile him up and then instantly drain him of the little energy he had left at the moment. She was like fire and ice and she drove him up a damn wall. It was unbelievable how a girl who pissed him off this much kept him sane at the same time. Now he was just exhausted while lying on his bed afraid to go to sleep. Afraid of what he would see. No matter how hard he tried to resist though his body eventually shut him down and he dozed off against his will.

It wasn't even a couple hours later when he was startled awake from his light sleep. The first thing Clint heard when his eyes flew up was muffled screaming. He was instantly on his feet and grabbed his gun before he shot off towards her room. He froze with his hand on her door when his brain finally caught up with the alarms ringing in his heads. He suddenly sighed heavily as he leaned his forehead against her door and listened to the familiar stifled screaming.

He knew what type of screaming this was. It was the type of screaming he was afraid of himself. It was a battle with your own personal demons. He took several deep calming breaths as her painful screams shot arrows through his chest. He didn't know what she wanted at the moment. He didn't see her as the needing comfort type. He was more likely to be shot bursting into her room then be welcomed. He heard the muffled screaming finally quiet and he had a feeling he didn't have to make a decision anymore.

"You can come in Barton," her hoarse voice floated through from behind her door. He took a deep breath and slowly pushed her door open. Her room was pitch black and he could barely make out the heavily breathing lump of Natasha Romanoff lying face down on her bed with her face buried in her pillow. He carefully shut the door behind him so that they were basked in darkness again and slowly made his way over to her bed. His eyes adjusted much faster than most people – he had spent a lot of his years in the dark. He carefully approached her bed and slowly took a seat by her head.

"No dead bodies," she muttered into her pillow. He silently glanced around and grimaced when he realized it might not be as far fetch that she may have once woken up with real dead bodies around her. The baggage she must carry is unbelievable.

"No. No dead bodies," he whispered as he carefully placed a hand on her back. He felt the tension rack her body as she shook on her bed still refusing to look up at him. He watched her clench her hands into fists and angrily banged them against her bed.

"I _hate_ this!" she growled furiously. She can't stand being weak. She can't stand feeling out of control. She can't stand that she was still _human_. He gently grasped her waist and shoved her over so that he could sit beside her and lean against the wall. He felt somewhat proud of how far they've come when she actually allowed him to do that without lashing out at him or even commenting on it.

"Everyone has demons Tasha," he whispered as he stared up at her ceiling and could barely make out the bullet hole he had accidentally put there a few weeks ago. He felt her tense beside him and nearly suffocated herself against her pillow. He listened to her anger growl and calmly ran his hand through her hair. He didn't know if she would appreciate it but she didn't stop him either so he just continued to physically be there for her.

"If only the demons were unfounded Barton. Maybe I could sleep better then," she said darkly. He paused in his soothing motions and carefully grasped her by the shoulders and turned her around so that he could finally see the tension in her face and the haunted look in her eyes. He knows what she means because he has been here too many times himself. Expect he never had a partner to talk to when the ghosts came knocking on his door in the past. All he had was alcohol, arrows and an unmarked wall.

"You're not alone Tasha," he said quietly watching her as she silently stared up at him with her sharp green eyes that were clouded with uncertainty and self-hatred. He's been there too. He doubted there was any mental place she has been that he hasn't either. She continued to breathe unevenly as she lied beside him and suddenly she slammed her eyes shut and he felt her grow rigid.

"We're all alone at the end of the day Barton. Stuck in your head you're always alone," she said with a defeated edge in her voice as she shook slightly. He finally stopped resisting the urge and firmly wrapped his arms around her waist before he dragged her limp frame off the bed and pulled her cool body against his burning one. He leaned back against the wall and held her tightly against his chest. She could feel his fast heart beat against her cheek and inhaled sharply as he ran his hand up and down her back trying to warm her up because she was actually freezing in the still air while drenched in her own sweat. He felt her tightly grip on his shirt but she remained adamantly silent.

"Do you still feel alone?" he whispered in the silent room. She took a shaky breath against his warm chest as she stared at the part of his shirt she was holding tightly enough to nearly rip a hole though.

"I will when I close my eyes Barton," she said quietly. He tightened his hold on her waist and gently pressed his lips against her soft hair.

"Maybe you won't now," he whispered in her ear. She shook her head against his chest and finally pulled away from his too tempting embrace. She wouldn't take him up on his offer. She was already pushing her own boundaries for allowing it to get this far.

"I have violent nightmares Barton. You shouldn't stay here especially while you're still heavily injured," she muttered as she tiredly rubbed her hands over her exhausted face. She hadn't slept properly in weeks. Tonight would be no different. He wasn't going to leave without a fight though – even if he was tired of fighting her he would do it if it could help ease her pain.

"Maybe they won't be as violent while I'm here," he said calmly. He heard her laugh darkly.

"No, no I think they might be even _worse_," she said under her breath. He paused as he watched her take several deep breaths with her hand still covering her face and gripping her hair as she continued to sit on him with her knees on either side of his waist. Now he had to ask.

"What are your nightmares about Natasha?" he asked quietly. He felt her tense and completely stop breathing. He reached up and pulled her hands away from her face and watched her stare holes into his chest. They sat in silence for several minutes as she continued to breathe deeply.

"Everything," she finally whispered. He gave her a cautious look.

"What do you mean everything?" he asked slowly. Her eyes shot up to lock with his and he saw a hundred different emotions swirling in her usually blank eyes. Natasha Romanoff was the _farthest_ thing from emotionless. It was just sad how wrong the world was about her. It was a shame they didn't see what he saw. She took another deep breath.

"Everything that could have gone wrong and every moment when something nearly did," she said with a faraway look on her face. He felt her grip his shirt tightly again and her breathing rate started to speed up.

"Natasha?" he asked quietly. She wasn't looking at him anymore. She was staring at a random spot on the blank wall over his shoulder.

"What Barton?" she whispered. He slowly raised his hands to cup her face like he has done so many times in the past.

"How many times do I die in your nightmares?" he asked softly. She slammed her eyes shut and instantly went rigid. He smiled weakly at her. She wasn't the only one who had nightmares about her partner dying in front of her. He pulled her closer until his lips were millimeters from her own. She didn't push him away.

"I'm going to kiss you Tasha. Tell me to stop," he whispered as his words ghosting over her lips. He felt the tremble beneath his fingertips – but she didn't say anything at all. So he tugged her forward and gently pressed his lips against her own and kissed her softly and achingly trying to wash away all the pain he knew she had bottled up inside of her she left alone to deal with on days like today. He gently ran his tongue over her bottom lip and asked her to open her mouth to deepen the kiss. She complied and he poured all his sympathy and compassion he had into the kiss. He knew she was hurting and they she had been alone for too long in her life to ever fully open up. But that was okay because he would give her _everything_ - he just needed as much as she could give him in return.

He pulled her closer with his hands still cupping her face and he felt her hesitantly wrap her arms around his neck and bring their bodies flush against each other once more. He never met a hesitant Natasha Romanoff. He had a feeling she didn't appear very often. He was simply glad she trusted him enough to show him this side of her. She made him feel vulnerable and unsure and on some level he hoped he made her feel like that too. She made him breathe a bit harder, made his heart race a bit faster, made his head spin a bit quicker.

She made him…she made him feel _alive_.

And he wanted to do the same for her. He wanted her to feel the things he felt. He knew it would take time but he was prepared to wait for her. Even if he had to wait years – he would do it. He would do it in a heartbeat. Because Natasha was someone worth waiting for.

He gently pulled his hands away from her face as he continued to kiss her like he was taking all the pain away and driving all her demons back in the depths of her memories, lost in the dark seas of her past. He dragged them up and down her back and finally just wrapped them around her finally relaxed body and held her tightly against him and sighed contently into the kiss.

She wasn't perfect. She was actually _really_ messed up and he knew that. He knew she had issues that ran deeper than he could possibly fathom. He knew she was broken in certain ways even though she adamantly refused to believe that. She was harsh and sometimes downright cruel with her words. She didn't take shit from anyone but she sure liked to dish out the hate. She was overconfident and stubborn in the same ways he was but at the same time she was more cautious and careful at times when he wasn't. She was cold and ruthless and sometimes she scared the shit out of him. Basically she wasn't a lot of nice things. _But_ - she was exactly what he wanted. She was exactly what he needed.

He could have kissed her forever – if it wasn't for the fact he was running out of oxygen and her knee was sort of painfully digging into his side. Ouch. He finally pulled away to take in a deep breath of air and gently leaned his forehead against hers. He reached down to readjust her position and unintentionally brought her closer as she fell against his waist and he could suddenly feel her entire warmer body aligned with his own. They both took a shaky breath as they opened their eyes and stared at each other for several frantic heart beats.

"Are you going to run away now?" he whispered against her red and swollen lips. She laughed breathlessly and it was the more beautiful sound he had ever heard.

"No," she whispered back. He stared at her stunned by her response.

"What happened to 4 months?" he asked curiously. She gave him a sad look.

"Still happening. We can't do that again Barton," she said quietly. He gave her a weak smile – he knew she would say that.

"Scared you'll be stuck with me for life if you had one guilty night of perfection Romanoff?" he whispered teasingly running his hands along her sides. She scowled at him and brutally yanked at his hair. He winced in pain but still shot her blinding smile. Masochist indeed. She slowly shook her head.

"It might never happen Barton. I don't think we can work together if we did that," she said with a wince. This was why she didn't want this to start. This was what she was afraid would break their partnership. She still wanted their partnership more than she wanted _this_…though it was slowly starting to catch up. Clint chuckled softly and brushed a handful of messy red curls out of her wary eyes as she leaned over him.

"It was never about sleeping with you Tasha," he whispered staring at her with a look that was rapidly starting to look like something she didn't want to label quite yet. She didn't want to think too hard about what was happening between them. She didn't want to make it too real. She didn't want to identify the possible terrifying reasons behind why when he stared at her like that she felt something in her chest clench painfully.

She didn't believe in fleeting dreams of love little girls had when they lay in their warm beds ignorant of all the hate and darkness there was in the world. She honestly didn't think it was real – but maybe what she had with Barton was different. It sure didn't feel like roses and cotton candy. It was damn _agony_ sometimes. It twisted her stomach and caused to her feel like she was continuously having her breath viciously knocked out of her lungs. He made her angry more times than she could count and he drove here crazy with that mouth of his that never _shut up_. She honestly wanted to shoot his balls off when he made his stupid dirty remarks and pissed her off until she wanted to strangle him. She could feel herself getting worked up and he wasn't even _doing_ anything!

He was always just _there_. Through every emotion she ever felt. Through all her explosions of rage and cruel words. Through every shit mission they ever had. Through all her rejections and all the stupid shit she put him through. He was still _here_. She didn't know what that meant.

Kicking and screaming into love _indeed_.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Apparently I like writing kiss scenes in pairs. No matter how you look at it the kiss in the last chapter really was because of the promise. Meh. I had to fix that. Isn't it interesting how all their kisses feel like it's their first one? Damn that is how intense these two are! Now…off to another mission? LMAO. I never give them a break. Oh but wait we forgot someone. **

**FURY YOU DEVIL YOU STILL HAVE YOUR LECTURE TO GIVE THEM DON'T YOU? Ahaha. Assassin lecture. Ahaha. Oh and before you ask no we aren't going to see Mr. Past love interest yet. He's coming later.**

**Where shall I sent them next? **

**BTW NATASHA FINALLY STOPPED RUNNING! HALLAJUAH? ANYONE? **

**4 months is a long time haha as you can see in my timeline. **


	42. Chapter 42

**I dare you **

**A/N: Okay so apparently this is not considered angst...but I guess its screwing with clintasha's sanity?  
**

**Chapter 42**

The following day two wary agents had made the unfortunate trek back to base and now stood in front of a rather foreboding door while they shared a wary look.

"We could just quit and run for it right?" Clint asked as a last desperate attempt at avoiding the inevitable torture. Natasha snorted.

"If he doesn't hunt us down himself for driving him up a wall he'll come after us just so that he could give us this ear full we are about to experience," she said dryly. She heard her partner groan in agony.

"But he makes my ears _bleed_ Tasha," he complained. She gave him a bored look.

"Suck it up and knock," she said stiffly. He sighed and finally did as she asked.

"_Enter_," a deeply annoyed voice said ominously. Clint stared at the door for a few seconds.

"Damn dramatics," Clint muttered under his breath as he turned the knob and pushed the door open. Natasha rolled her eyes and let a calm blank expression melt over her features. No need to give the man something to use against them. They two of them carefully walked into the dimly lit room – it felt like they were about to get thrown into a pit of piranhas with horrible danger music in the background. They both took one look at their director's blazing eyes and knew instantly they weren't going to have a pleasant chat like they had hoped but mostly doubted. They awkwardly stood in front of his desk as he continued to stare holes into their skulls.

"Do you _know_ why you are not dead?" Fury started dangerously. They both stared at him with cautious looks. When Fury narrowed his eyes they knew they were supposed to answer.

"Because Coulson saved our ass?" Clint said carefully. Fury clenched his jaw forcefully.

"No. Because I _let_ him save your stupid asses," he growled angrily. The two assassins both tensed – well _that_ was news to them. Fury's eyes darkened.

"That's right. We had two options. One was to go save your ass and drag it out of the fire or the second option was to let you and your liability issues _die_ with you," Fury said with the threat clear in his tone. He had considered it – they all knew it. Clint went rigid as his eyes locked with the storming ones of his boss of the last 5 years. He knew he had screwed up and he was about to get it burned onto his skin. Damn.

"I expected a whole lot more from your Barton. I know you don't read protocols and don't give a _shit_ about our regulations but Romanoff– tell me the consequences for abandoning a mission until final extraction," Fury said without looking away from Barton's tense face.

"Immediate black listing for treason and termination of service," Natasha mechanically repeated the words she was forced to memorize when she was being drilled by Coulson before starting her post as an agent of SHIELD and Barton's partner. Clint shot her a sharp look – she never said _anything_.

"What comes after your last word Agent?" Fury said warningly while still not looking at her. Natasha clenched her jaw.

"_Sir_," she said through gritted teeth. Fury finally tore his angry gaze away from his senior agent and gave her _the eye_ for her cheek.

"Do you _know_ what happens when you don't get into contact with us after a serious mission?" Fury asked tightly. They both instantly looked away – they knew they deserved every vicious word he threw their way.

"We get captured by the enemy," Clint said staring at the desk in front of them. Fury shot him a burning look.

"_Exactly_. You don't know the game changing Intel we pick up while you're on assignment. And your little stint after Colombia is the most _stupid ass_ decision you have ever made in your career Barton. Romanoff might be a seasoned fighter but she is still your junior. _You're_ the head of this team. _You're_ the one who was going to take the heat if things got any worse than they already did. _You're _the one responsible at the end of the fucking day. The reason you got caught, the reason you were unaware of Castro or his insanity, the reason you two got fucking tortured and nearly got blown up is because of _your_ stupidity Barton!" Fury shouted slamming his fist against his desk scattering papers every which way. Clint visibly flinched as he clenched his fists at his side. He knew that. He knew _all_ of that. It was haunting him ever since they got off that godforsaken island. Natasha's eyes shot up and blazed in barely restrained anger as she glared at their boss.

"It's not just his fault Fury. There are always two opinions on a team," she said steadily. Fury glowered at her.

"_Shut up_ Romanoff," Fury said warningly. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"_No_. Don't just go blaming it all on him. We're both adults and we're equally responsible for our actions. I don't give a fuck how old he is – I made the shit decision too," she said heatedly. She ignored the tension radiating off of her partner as he stood beside her still staring holes into the desk.

"Then you are _both_ reckless idiots," Fury said crossly. She went rigid but didn't dare look away from his accusing stare for even a second.

"_Fine_," she said forcefully. Fury tensely shook his head. She still didn't get it.

"You don't understand how things work around here Romanoff. You may be his equal and have skills even better than his but _he_ is the one who will burn for screwing up any mission. You're new Romanoff. You're still allowed to make mistakes. He's not. And he knows that very well," Fury said shooting the deadly silent archer a severely unimpressed look.

"Nobody is perfect Fury," Clint said carefully without looking up. Fury gave him a dark look.

"Nobody survives in this job long if they continue to be _this_ fucking careless," Fury shot back curtly. Clint firmly shook his head.

"It won't happen again. I swear," Clint said tightly wishing he could rewind time and slap himself in the face for causing all this shit in the first place. Fury narrowed his eyes.

"It _better_ not. Because there are countless reasons I can come up with off the top of my head for why this happened at all. Why your judgment suddenly decided to go take a fucking vacation while in the field, without any external contact, in the middle of nowhere with only your partner to keep you company," Fury said threateningly. They both went rigid and inhaled sharply.

Clint's eyes hardened instantly. _Oh fuck._ _Oh fucking hell._

"I have _never_ been compromised in my entire career and I am not going to start now just because my partner happens to be a part of the opposite sex Fury. We're damn professionals - not some soap opera like the fucking CIA," Clint growled. He felt the increasingly angry waves of fury radiate off of his deadly silent partner. He tensed because he knew she was just itching to strangle him once and for all for what he's done to them. Because they both knew what he was sprouting right now was utter _bullshit_.

_Lies. Lies. Lies. _

"Then don't you dare you _ever_ come to me with shit like this fucked up mission again otherwise I am going to be forced to draw conclusions that might be the end to your damn partnership," Fury said threateningly. Natasha and Clint both clenched their jaws as the tension in the room skyrocketed.

"Out of all the missions we've done in the last 8 months Fury this was the only one that we screwed up – and even then we finished the part we were supposed to. So don't start throwing out baseless accusations without proof. Romanoff and I are partners and _just_ partners. We're no fucking stupid teenagers high off raging hormones. We aren't compromised and we will _never_ be compromised," Clint said through gritted teeth. He didn't dare look at his partner for even a second because he was trying _extremely_ hard for once in his damn life to ignore every forbidden moment that ever happened between them over the last couple of weeks. She was going to kill him. She was going to absolutely murder him. He knew it. Fury narrowed his eye as he glanced between the two rigid partners. SHIELD had strict fraternization regulations – break them and they break you.

"5 years you've been working here Barton – don't make a rookie mistake this far into your job. Don't do something that might get you both killed. Don't make mistakes that you can't fix," Fury said warningly. Clint wanted to punch a hole in the wall. He already made the mistake Fury was talking about – and he didn't regret it one bit. But what killed him was that he knew _she_ did. Especially based on her enraged body language. God why did it have to be her? Why did it have to be someone like her? Why couldn't it be someone easier to deal with?

_Because you don't like easy Barton. You never took the easier route once in your entire life._

Damage control time.

"You know director we're not the only ones who have rumors flying around about us," Clint said steadily. Fury instantly tensed. Oh Barton better not go there or he was going to have the idiot's ass taped to a target board and he would shoot him with a machine gun. Clint didn't back down though – he had to cover their ass. Because otherwise she will never give him a second look again. Time to put the director under heat.

"Maria Hill is a brilliant agent too isn't she? She's also your right hand man," Clint said giving Fury a knowing look. Fury narrowed his eyes.

"Don't patronize me agent," Fury growled with rage. Clint stared back with equal anger.

"Don't underestimate us then," he said stiffly. Because no matter what shit went down between them _nothing_ was going to get in-between their job. He would see to it.

"Then don't give me a reason to," Fury said warningly. Clint furiously blacked out all the memories that were instantly flooding his traitorous mind. Every kiss they ever shared, every embrace that went on for too long, every touch that wasn't supposed to happen, every moment that shouldn't have occurred, every feeling that shouldn't exist – but the damn truth was that it _did_. It all happened and there was no way to stop something like this. He didn't have the power to stop whatever he had with Natasha Romanoff.

But he could _lie_. He could lie very convincingly too.

"We won't," Clint said with dark promise. He would make sure Fury never got a reason to doubt them ever again because he was _never_ going to screw up a mission with her for the rest of their lives. Fury gave him a calculative look.

"You better agent. Now you two are going to get out, get healed, get some damn sleep because you have a flight at 9 am tomorrow morning to Italy. There is a charity masquerade ball happening in Rome and an important weapons designer named Eric Conroy will be attending. I don't know if you know this but there are a _lot_ more people who barter and sell weapons and very few who can actually make new ones. He's a potential asset – he is _not_ allowed to die. The problem is that he turned down the wrong people who are not happy with his refusal to cooperate. Italian arms dealers are not the most dangerous idiots in the world – but they are smart enough to take him out so that he can't make any weapons for any other opposing black markets. Your job is to take out the assassin who is going to be sent to kill him. Amelia Riviera is your target and I want _her_ dead and Conroy definitely _alive_ and in this base within 72 hours. Understood agents?" Fury said still seriously pissed at the two tense assassins standing rigidly in front of him. They both continued to stare at him with storming eyes.

"I said _understood_?" he repeated angrily. They tensed even more.

"Yes sir," they said in unison. Fury nodded steadily.

"Good. And you better not fuck it up because you two are in some _serious_ shit if you do not complete this mission with absolute perfection. Don't make me put you on solo missions to teach you a lesson. You're good at your jobs – that is the only reason you are leaving this office still on the same team. Are we clear?" Fury said warningly. They both nodded tensely.

"Crystal," Clint said with a dangerously undertone. They were _all_ different levels of seriously pissed off. Fury glared at him.

"Then why are you two still here? Get the _fuck_ out," he growled pointing to his door. They both took a sharp step back and stalked towards the door. Natasha gripped the doorknob and aggressively threw it open before she stomped down the hall. Clint slammed the door shut behind him and was after her like lighting. This was bad. This was extremely bad.

"Natasha-" he said determinedly but was immediately cut off.

"_Shut up _Barton," she growled as she stomped down the hall and stalked towards the back exit. She needed to get out of here. She needed to get some damn control of herself. She was so _stupid_. His stupidity had finally rubbed off on her. She tensed. When was the last fucking time she didn't spend her day with Clint Barton breathing down her neck? Her eyes hardened. They had crossed a line.

She needed to get away from him. She needed to leave _right now._

"No you need to listen to me-" he tried again but she instantly cut him off again.

"Shut up the _fuck_ up we're still in the damn building," she hissed at him. He gritted his teeth but finally stopped trying to talk to her as he followed behind her brisk pace. She slammed her hand down on the bar on the backdoor and practically flew out of the base as she stalked down the street. He was instantly on her tail as she made strategic twists and turns to throw off any stupid agents that might be following them because they were so damn screwed with the shit they had going on. He silently followed her down an empty alley several blocks away from the base. The tension between them was insane. When she was finally, _finally_ certain they were well and truly alone she spun around and let all her anger explode.

"FUCK YOU BARTON!" she shouted as she promptly slapped his across the face. His eyes darkened as his head whipped to the side and he felt the burning sting of her strike radiate through his skin.

"I didn't _know_ that was going to happen," he said angrily. Her eyes flashed with anger.

"I don't care. Never come near me again. Never touch me again. Never look at me like that again. Never talk to me about anything ever again Barton or I will fucking stab your eyes out and shoot you in the chest before SHIELD even has the chance to be on my ass. I told you, you were being stupid. I told you, you were being reckless and then _this_ shit happened," she shouted at him. He tensed.

"Don't blame all of this on me Natasha. I'm not the only person who has fucking emotions. I didn't ask for this! I didn't ask for _any_ of this!" he shouted back. She clenched her jaw tightly.

"You didn't try to stop it _either!"_ she said angrily. He stared at her with a furious gaze. She was a fucking _hypocrite_.

"It's not _possible_ to stop it!" he roared clenching his hands into tight fists. She tensed.

"Yes it _is_!" she growled. He violently shook his head.

"No. You may be a master at acting and pretending to feel a whole range of emotions on the job Romanoff but let me tell you something about reality. In reality you don't choose who you are attracted to. In reality you don't choose to have feelings for someone. In reality all this shit just _happens_!" he cried in anger. She narrowed her eyes.

"It's not _supposed_ to happen!" she growled. He stared at her in utter disbelief.

"What the _fuck_ do you want me to do about this?" he asked in frustration. She gritted her teeth.

"Make it go _away_!" she shouted in outrage. He glared at her and her unbelievable denial.

"Natasha you are the one being the fucking child now! You _can't_ make feelings go away!" he shouted angrily.

Her eyes hardened and he felt his blood run cold. He had said the wrong words. Shit. Shit. Shit.

"_Watch_ me," she said darkly before she promptly spun around and stomped down the street away from his tense form. Clint stared at her while seething with hurt and rage. They were finally getting somewhere. They were finally starting to see eye to eye and then their damn job got in the way _again_.

"Where the _hell_ are you going?" he asked angrily. She was just going to ditch him on their only day off?

"After 8 months of seeing the same damn person every single fucking day of your life you need a break. I have a life outside of our partnership you _bastard_!" she shouted over her shoulder as she determinedly kept her eyes forward and didn't look back. Fuck him. Just fuck him and everything that nearly screwed them over. Damn him to _hell_.

"Yeah I used to have one of those too – it was _shit_," he muttered under his breath as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and stalked away in the opposite direction. Shit. Shit. Shit. They were in so much shit. He can't _believe_ they almost got caught. They were not allowed to screw up another mission _ever_ again otherwise SHIELD was going to rip them to pieces. He angrily clenched his jaw – he thinks he just lost all the progress he made with her too. Damn. Damn. Damn.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: And….I killed it. Poor Clintasha feels. Gone. Dead. Shot in the face. Of course this was coming for a long time. SHIELD was bound to get on their ass for even toeing the line of being compromised. They are working for a very strict organization. Nothing was supposed to happen. But of course that's not true is it? They both know it's there – now they are just reeling from reality slapping them across the face and breaking their little bubble they had created from being all alone in Colombia. But now they are back and definitely **_**not**_** alone.**

**MISSION TIME IN THE MIDDLE OF ALL THIS DRAMA? YAY ACTION!**

**ITALY BABY HER WE COME :D **


	43. Chapter 43

**I dare you **

**A/N: So yes I have started to space out my updates. School is starting to rain down hard and so probably…we're going to see weekly updates eventually. Sorry! I gotta pass CHEMISTRY AND CALCULUS! AHHH!  
**

**Anyway. This is not the mission just yet. Don't you want to know where each of them went during the day before they leave for Italy? **

**Another awesome Clintasha song **

'_**Hot and cold'**_** – by Katy Perry **

"_Cause you're hot then you're cold_

_You're yes then you're no_

_You're in then you're out_

_You're up then you're down_

_You're wrong when it's right_

_It's black and it's white_

_We fight, we break up_

_We kiss, we make up," _

**Chapter 43**

Clint knew he _really_ shouldn't have fallen asleep on the bed that was technically not his – but honestly he was still reeling from the Castro fiasco and the pillow he was lying on just smelled so sweet and inviting. Currently his own pillow back at his apartment smelled like sweat and soiled gunpowder so obviously he didn't get a good night's sleep surrounded by all those reminders. However he was still a light sleeper so when he felt a nervous presence beside him his eyes flew open and locked with light blue ones. He froze - uh oh.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!" the little blonde girl screeched. Clint quickly sat up and frantically shook his head trying to quiet the screaming child.

"Shhh! Stop screaming! You're going to alert the entire school!" Clint said in alarm. The frightened girl didn't listen for even a second.

"AHHHHH! ALICIA THERE IS A FREAKY STRANGE HALF DEAD LOOKING MAN IN OUR ROOM!" the unknown girl shrieked as she dropped her notebooks to the ground and backed away from him. Clint groaned – _that_ was her first impression?

"Come on I haven't even _done_ anything!" Clint grumbled before he raised his arms in surrender when the blond kid shot him a nasty look. Well he _was_ kind of in her room uninvited. He heard familiar light footsteps from down the hall and his eyes softened involuntarily.

"Joanna what on earth are you talking-_oh_," Alicia said her words catching in her throat as she appeared in the doorway. Her naturally dark hair was still tinted red from the hair dye Natasha had used on her. She looked as cute as ever – but more importantly she was safe. He felt something loosen in his chest as he took her in. His guilt would never go away – but he could feel the sharp edge of its intensity dull slightly the longer he stared at her and visually confirmed her healthy state. He shot her a weak smile which she tentatively returned. Joanna's eyes whipped back and forth between the two seemingly strangers. Her stressed eyes finally stopped on her roommate.

"What do you mean _oh?_ Alicia you really need to fix your reactions to serious situations! This is dangerous! What would you do if he is some crazy psychopathic killer that molests little girls like us in the night?" Joanna said heatedly. Clint and Alicia both froze -_whoa_ she is intense.

"Joanna! Joanna! Calm _down_ he's not dangerous!" Alicia said trying to reassure her alarmed roommate. Clint and Alicia's eyes locked together and they both winced at the same time – okay now _that_ was not quite true. He was a _very_ dangerous man – only when he wanted to be though. However right now he was just Clint pretending his life wasn't as screwed up as it really was, his partner wasn't off somewhere beating the crap out something or someone to get rid of her anger and he didn't feel like getting shit drunk before a mission he had to do in less than 12 hours which he was under no conditions allowed to mess up. He felt the disarming smile he was shooting the two girls freeze as a dark thought crossed his mind.

He couldn't lose _her_.

"Why should I calm down Alicia? Why are there always suspicious men hanging around you when school ends? What kind of problems did you have before you came to our school?" Joanna asked irritably. Oh _now_ Clint understood – apparently he wasn't the first SHIELD agent to show up uninvited. Alicia tensed.

"Everyone has problems here Joanna…" Alicia said cautiously. Joanna glared at her before her eyes shot to his.

"Get _off_ my bed," she hissed. He winced – oh _that's_ why she was extra pissed. He quickly swung his legs over the edge and hastily stood up – bad idea. He didn't quite have all his balance back in his injured leg and stumbled a little before he leaned his hand against the wall to steady himself. His knee accidentally hit the side table at a horrible angle and he jerked backwards involuntarily.

He froze as something fell out of his back pocket and clattered to the floor.

Joanna took one look at the gun resting on the floor by her feet and her eyes shot up to Clint's frozen ones.

Oh _this_ was not going to be good. She inhaled sharply - ready to scream her head off all over again.

"DON'T SCREAM!" Alicia and Clint shouted at the same time. Joanna glared at the two frozen guilty people in the room.

"Why the _hell_ not?" Joanna huffed. Clint frantically tried to come up with something to placate her.

"Because…because I have chocolate?" Clint tried feebly. Really he was a better liar then this – but he was exhausted and he really wasn't trained to con kids. Joanna paused and Clint's eyes lit up with hope. If this worked chocolate was his new best friend.

"Is it milk chocolate?" Joanna asked warily. He sighed in relief when the kid no longer looked like she was going to scream bloody murder. He internally winced – he really needed to get a hold of his damn unintentional puns.

"Yeah – it's Hershey too," he said as he pulled out his standard chocolate bar from his pocket and held it out for her to see. She gave the candy a suspicious look before she glanced over at her wary Spanish friend.

"Alicia?" Joanna said warily. Alicia gave her roommate a nervous look.

"Yeah Joanna?" she asked trying to keep the worry out of her voice. Joanna gave her a pointed look.

"Don't get kidnapped," was all little Joanna said before she swiped the chocolate bar from Clint's hand and stalked out of the room. Clint and Alicia winced again. Oh that was an even _worse_ pun considering the fact that technically he had kidnapped her twice already in the last month. His thoughts darkened – yeah he was never doing that again. He had too many enemies and Alicia just wasn't safe anywhere with him except where Coulson said she would be safe. Which meant that after the damn Castro incident she probably had an agent semi-permanently posted in her school to keep daily tabs on her. Coulson was an overkill worrywart – but he was the reason Alicia wasn't with them when Castro showed up. Clint would forever be in debt to him for that one.

"Now _she_ is an interesting roommate…" Clint said trying to steer the conversation away from less pleasant topics. Alicia snorted.

"She is paranoid," she said frankly. He didn't laugh – in fact his expression looked slightly strained.

"Paranoia is not exactly unfounded…" he said quietly as he glanced around her relatively tidy room and didn't quite meet her careful gaze.

"You know there are security cameras in here right?" she asked cautiously. She didn't think he was stupid but Coulson is _very_ thorough with his work. She watched him glance at all the hidden locations she had already found the cameras it. When his eyes finally landed on her alarm clock she froze.

"Clint?" she asked slowly. He finally looked at her and gave her a nervous smile.

"Yeah Alicia?" he asked warily.

"Why is there a bullet hole in my alarm clock?" she asked blankly. He winced.

"Um…you missed disabling that one?" he said nervously. She sighed and rubbed her forehead.

"I hate Coulson," she said angrily. He rolled his eyes.

"Don't worry we all do," he said warily. She shook her head and finally sat down on her bed in front of him. He slowly took a seat beside her and they sat in companionable silence.

"He makes it very hard to hate him for too long though," she muttered begrudgingly. Clint snorted.

"It's part of his uniquely annoying personality," he said dryly. Alicia gave him a wary look.

"Overkill is his personality too – he takes being responsible for me a bit _too_ seriously…" she said with a grimace. Clint laughed softly.

"I bet he does," he said sympathetically. She pulled her knees up to her chest and leaned her chin against them.

"It's kind of nice…" she whispered and she curled a short curl behind her ear. He gave a weak smile – at least someone who was in the country more often than once a week was around to look out for her.

"You look like you got run over by a train," she said quietly. He chuckled humorlessly.

"I feel like it too," he said staring at her blank wall. He felt her eyes on him but remained silent. She wordlessly scrutinized his slightly stiff frame, the fresh cuts that covered his face and the blue long sleeved shirt he was wearing today which she had a feeling were hiding even more unseen scrapes and bruises. He felt the wheels rapidly turn in her head as she made her own disturbing conclusions.

"Trouble found you after I left," she said finally without any doubt in her voice. Clint grimaced even though he knew she would figure it out.

"Yes," he said quietly. What else could he say? He never hid the nature of his job from her – they both know he was always in danger of being shot down. She continued to stare at him with a searching look as she connected all the dots - she was forced to be good at filling in the blanks because no one at SHIELD ever tells her _anything_.

"Coulson stuck me on a plane with Maria Hill before he left with the coldest air of curt professionalism I was scared his blank expression was going to crack in half," she continued cautiously. Clint ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

"Yeah his mask definitely broke by the time he got to us," he muttered as all the shit that happened to them over the last few days flashed across his vision and made his heart clench. They were too close. He could feel the worry in her gaze but there was nothing he could say to ease her thoughts – anything he said would end up being a lie.

"How bad was it Clint?" she whispered. His eyes darkened as images of things that only belonged in his nightmares came to mind. He and Natasha really _didn't_ almost make it. He tensed as his eyes finally found their way back to the little girl sitting quietly beside him. It was bad – but it could have been _so_ much worse.

"You don't want to know Alicia," he said carefully. She gave him a measured look and he watched her glance out of the closed window beside them.

"Where is she?" Alicia asked quietly as she reached out her hand to place it against her window and felt the coolness seep into her small hand. She heard him inhaled deeply as they stared at the cars speeding down the street and other school children walking home together laughing and joking with each other. The child of a terrorist and a seasoned assassin didn't have the luxury of being that carefree. Sometimes it's a privilege to be like everybody else.

"I don't know," he whispered with a slight hitch in his voice. He didn't know what went on in his partner's head when she shut down. He doubted she ever stopped thinking and sometimes that's what scared him the most. Her mind was sharp and she made decisions she stubbornly stuck with till the end. He just hoped she would never make a decision that would kill him.

"Did you royally piss her off again?" Alicia asked shooting him an unimpressed look. He sighed and tiredly rubbed his hands over his face and messed up his already disordered hair. Sometimes it hurts his pride that a 9 year old can read him as well as she does.

"When is she _not_ mad at me Alicia is the bigger question," he said letting the exhaustion slip into his voice. They both heard thunder boom in the distance and knew that darkness was about to fall over the New York skyline. The storm that will inevitably follow was always fast, harsh and full of hardship for the poor soul unfortunate enough to be stuck outside in one. Sometimes he felt like his life was a series of storms. His eyes had a faraway look in them as a second boom of thunder rang in his ears.

The biggest storm was always going to be _her_.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Meanwhile on the darker and shadier side of town a silent redhead was stalking down a scarcely inhabited street ignoring everything and everyone around her. Drug dealers, petty thieves, addicts and drunkards – it really didn't matter to her. None of them were any problem for her. In fact at the moment that was exactly what she needed.

She honestly just couldn't _stand_ walking amongst normal people whose lives were nowhere near as screwed up as hers. On the rundown side of New York the scum that lurked in the alleys and the corruption that occurred behind closed doors was somehow comforting. She wasn't the only messed up person out there. She wasn't the only one who never quite figured out who she was in the world. And right now she didn't care how shallow it made her feel – she couldn't stand being near anything that reminded her of her rather virtuous partner. He was no saint – but compared to her he might as well have been.

She even had a feeling she knew where he was right now. Barton didn't have anyone she thought he would consider a '_friend'_. She already told him before that people like them who had a job like they did couldn't have friends. She was sure he didn't have many acquaintances either. Coulson was the only person she would guess he would even _think_ about spending his free time with. It was kind of disturbing how much time she spends with that one man. Their partnership has honestly taken over her life. Not even – it has almost _become_ her life. Her expression darkened. She doesn't know if she is ready to face the reality behind something that striking.

She tensed when she heard familiar footsteps echo purposefully down an alley she was currently passing – it was slightly unnerving considering the fact there was no one there. Her eyes hardened as she continued her brisk pace down the street that was suddenly deserted. The wind blew her hair into her eyes and she heard thunder boom in the distance as a storm raged several miles away. She brushed her hand along her thigh and felt all her weapons strapped in place ready to be used at a moment's notice.

She would need them – because she was damn sure she was being followed. She kept her eyes steeled for attack and didn't alter her brisk pace. She listened to the air shift around her and as soon as she rounded a corner she instantly dropped to the ground as a sharp blade flew over her head barely missing her ear by a centimeter. She rolled to the side and shot to her feet to spin around with her gun in one hand and her knives ready in her sleeves for when she would need them.

However there was no one there like she expected. She narrowed her eyes and scanned the empty street.

"Still as sharp as ever I see Natalia," a deep ominous voice chuckled from behind her. Natasha clenched her jaw. Bastard was messing with her.

"Still as arrogant and overconfident as ever _Barnes_," she growled angrily spinning around and firing a shot without hesitation. He sidestepped out the line of fire easily and twirled one of his signature blades in his hands – the ones he used to make her practice with not too many years ago. Her eyes hardened – oh he was definitely here to mess with her head.

"Oh you're calling me Barnes now? Is that what we've come to dear Natalia?" he said cocking an eyebrow and a devious smirk spread across his sharp face. She narrowed her eyes and trained her gun right at his face while she took several steps back.

"They finally decided to stop sending the shrimp and chose to send their top dog right off the bat didn't they?" she said scanning the area while keeping him in sight. If he had back up she would be screwed – if he didn't she was marginally less screwed but still seriously screwed. _Fuck_. She heard him laugh darkly.

"Oh Nat you are always so pessimistic aren't you? But are you still as fast?" he said ominously before he whipped out his gun and fired 3 consecutive shots aimed at her head. She clenched her jaw and dived to the right. She nearly crashed into a dumpster before she pushed herself back up and started sprinting off down a random alley with bullets on her heels.

"I'm impressed! You're speed _has_ improved Natalia! Betrayal has done you _well_ Romanova," he said sarcastically hot on her tail. Natasha's eyes darkened – she was going to fucking kill him.

"Go fuck yourself Barnes!" she growled as she whipped her arm around and fired another shot at him before she disappeared around the corner. She leaned against the wall to catch her breath and angrily removed the now dead round and quickly shoved in another one. He easily blocked the bullet with a metal bracer on his arm and was instantly in her face ignoring the gun shoved threateningly into his chest.

"Ah but we've already _done_ that haven't we Natasha?" he said viciously inches from her face. Natasha gritted her teeth in rage and promptly pulled out a knife and aimed for his throat. He effortlessly jumped back and felt the sharp blade whip through the air barely missing his skin by a hair's breath.

"Close – but never quite close enough Nat," he all but spat out before he pulled out his own assortment of blades. She tensed and quickly shot off down the alley. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

"_My_ turn," he said dangerously from behind her. She felt several blades whip past her as she skirted around the corner and winced as several ripped through her shirt scrapping her sides as she barely avoided a direct hit. He was _messing_ with her. He could land a hit if he wanted to. She knew he had the ability to – she _knew_ he was better than her damn it. He was her god damn trainer for crying out loud. She whipped around and threw her own blade as fast as she could when he rounded the corner and forced him to jerk backwards at nearly superhuman speeds but even then she manage to barely scrape his cheek – that meant a _lot_ considering she has never been able to land a hit on him in her entire _life_. His eyes darkened in storming anger mixed with spiteful respect.

"Nice under arm throw – you got better but your style is the same. Who taught you everything you know about knives Natasha?" he said threateningly. Natasha tensed and growled in frustration – god damn it she wasn't going to last 10 seconds if she didn't end this right now.

"I don't have _time_ for your shit Barnes!" she shouted before she pulled out her gun, steeled her nerves and shot him in the chest. She clenched her jaw when the bullet ricocheted off his chest with a loud resounding _bang_. His eyes darkened until she couldn't even see his pupils anymore – it was like a sea of sheer emptiness.

"Fantastic – you _finally_ grew some balls while on the other side too I see. Too bad I came prepared. Bulletproof vest with metal reinforcements. Only the best defensive against world's best ex-Russian assassin right? _Right_?" he shouted as he pulled out another knife and flung it at her almost carelessly. She tensed and quickly threw herself against the wall – she winced as the blade flew across her shoulder leaving a bleeding scrap in its place. However the next thing she knew she was being viciously pinned to the wall by 6 sharp painful blades entrapping her clothes in place. _Fuck_. He was in her face instantly with rage burning in his black eyes.

"One day you just disappeared. One day I got to hear the lovely words that my protégé _ditched_ her assignment and ran off with a damn archer. An _archer_! Have your standards really fallen that low? Of all the fucked up pansy organizations in the world to get cornered by you chose to get caught by a damn _SHIELD_ agent? Not even the CIA. God damn _SHIELD_? Are you crazy?" he growled angrily shaking her. She glared at him as she vicious removed the blades that had her pinned to the wall.

"I didn't exactly have a lot of _options_!" she shouted back furiously. He narrowed his eyes and slammed and fist beside her head nearly creating a fist shaped hole in the wall.

"I don't see your _partner_ around Natalia. I don't see _anyone_ from SHIELD keeping an eye on you – what does that tell me about _you_?" he said dangerously. She gritted her teeth and finally managed to get rid of the last blade before she flipped it around tried to stab him in the face. He caught her wrist easily and twisted her wrist around before holding the blade against her own neck.

"_Who_ trained you to be as good as you are Nat?" he continued with the anger coming off of him in powerful waves. She bared her teeth at him and promptly grabbed his gun from his own belt and fired another shot at him. He avoided it easily again but simply continued to glare at her. She pulled out her own gun and held both trained to his head as she breathed heavily.

"I am _never_ coming back. No matter how many dispatchers they send my way – I'll send every single last one of them back in a _matchbox_ cut up in pieces – including _you_," she growled dangerously. He narrowed his eyes.

"Cold as ice and _bitchy_ as hell – you really haven't changed at all Romanova," he spat firmly shaking his head. Her eyes hardened. She had enough of this bullshit.

"Shut the fuck up. Stop _calling_ me that," she roared in rage. He spat on the ground in front of her.

"_You_ shut up. Just because you changed your name doesn't mean Natalia Romanova doesn't exist anymore," he said darkly. She tensed.

"If I say she doesn't exist – _she doesn't exist_!" she shouted before she shot nearly every single bullet she had left in both guns. He clenched his jaw and blocked every single last shot with both his bracers.

"I still make you go wild Nat – you still lose your cool around me," he said firmly. Her gaze hardened as she tensed.

"Fuck you Barnes! If you're here to kill me just fucking _kill_ me already!" she cried in disbelief. Why the _fuck_ were they doing this damn dancing around the issue shit? Bucky laughed darkly and shook his head.

"Karpov didn't send me Natasha Romanoff – whatever the hell your new name is. I'm here for _fun_ and to give a friendly warning. Russian intelligence is not happy with you making a mockery out of their prestigious Red Room black ops program. Eventually you are going to face their big guns Romanoff - be prepared to be hunted like _no_ other target in the world. Whoever is going to get your name under their belt is going to be one lucky bastard – but it's not going to be me. I'm not going to shoot my own fucking student no matter _how_ motherfucking stupid she is!" he growled throwing his gun onto the ground with his eyes blazing.

She froze. That was downright _insulting_. How dare he say she wasn't worth his time?

"Then why are you fucking _here_?" she growled. He narrowed his eyes.

"You know why I'm here – 8 _months_ you've been avoiding me. You didn't get caught – you are _choosing_ to stay with your precious partner. But I really don't give a _shit_ Natasha. Whoever is your next conquest is really meaningless to me. _My_ job was always to make sure you knew the facts and that you were given the best training to stay alive in your assignments. You choosing to be reckless now is all on _you_. But remember - you're a machine to them Natasha. You are a science experiment. You're a weapon they strategically designed and everything they wanted in you is encoded in your brain and runs through your blood. To them you're broken at the moment. They want their property _back_ – they invested years of work into building you up to be the skilled assassin you are today. They are not going to give it up that easily," he said warningly. She tensed.

"I'll fucking kill all of them," she said firmly. He glared at her and sharply shook his head.

"You're being idealistic and _rash_ Romanoff. You can only hold off the massive tsunami that is going to hit you and your partner for so long. When it hits it will hit so hard neither of your will survive. You're already the walking dead Natasha – you're going to take him down with you," he said tensely. Natasha inhaled sharply.

"You don't know that. You can't know anything until they've tried their hand at whatever they want to throw at me," she hissed. He shot her a burning look.

"At the end of the day you're still Black Widow – whether you want to be or not Romanoff. It's never going to stop haunting you. They are never going to stop until you are _dead_ Natasha. You have gone and made the _stupidest_ decision of your life – you better learn to live with the consequences. I won't protect you when the machine guns come blazing Natalia," he said darkly. She tensed.

"I don't _need_ your damn protection," she spat. He gave her a cold look.

"Even if I _did_ give it to you it wouldn't be enough – be careful Romanoff. Take care of yourself – don't let whatever shit you have going on with _him_ cloud your judgment. Even though you already royally fucked up _everything_," he said warningly before he finally took a step back. She continued to glare daggers at him and viciously turned away. If he was going to leave she wasn't going to fucking stick around either.

"Oh and by the way you owe me something 8 months overdue," he suddenly said looming over her shoulder pressed up against her back. She froze as he roughly spun her around and slammed their mouths together in an angry, vicious, biting kiss that had her tasting blood in her mouth – she thinks it was her own. He roughly shoved her up against the wall as he furiously sucked the breath out of her lungs. She didn't response to the kiss only out of sheer will power. Every damn cell in her body was telling to kiss him back but she adamantly refused to give in. She was a damn professional – no one could make her break her cool.

_No one. No one. No one._

_Fuck_ that was a god damn lie because a very different kiss with a _different _brown haired ex-military assassin flashed through her mind. His contradicting softness when everything about him was hard and rugged. His kindness that bleed through his touch. His warmth that invaded her senses whenever he got too close. _Shit. Shit. Shit_. Bucky finally ended the brutal kiss and pulled back.

"Try not to fucking die," he growled before he ripped away from her and instantly disappeared around the corner. She was finally left in silence with only her own ragged breath echoing in her ears.

_5 minutes later. _

"_Holy shit_," she growled as she slid down the wall while still trying to catch her breath. James Barnes was haunting her now. What a fucking _nightmare_. What the _hell_ was she going to do now?

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

It was nearing 11 pm and Clint decided he had roamed the streets of New York long enough and that if he continued to be a damn chicken he might as well shoot himself right here and now. They had a mission tomorrow and he needed to get some damn sleep – but whatever mood she was in would determine the type of pre-mission conversation they were going to have before he was finally allowed to go to bed.

He really had no idea how to gauge what she will be like when she was being all icy again. He paused as he heard another crack of thunder and the sky suddenly broke open and started pouring its heart out. He sighed heavily as he flipped his hood over his head and shoved his hands into his pockets. Damn rain had to choose to start falling 2 minutes before he reached their apartment – fantastically shitty timing.

He dejectedly rounded the corner as he walked down the street their apartment building was situated on and froze as he caught sight of a soaked figure sitting alone on the stone steps leading into their building. Her redhead was plastered to her forehead and an intense expression covered the span of her face. She was staring at nothing on the ground with her arms loosely wrapped around her knees. She looked like the picture of a goddess brought to her knees by destiny.

He slowly approached her still form and eventually came to stand in front of her - she didn't say a word. He glanced around and decided it really didn't matter who was around because who is really crazy enough to attack them in a god damn thunder storm? Instead of worrying about things he had no control over he silently took a seat beside his extremely reserved partner. They sat in tense silence for several minutes at the rain continued to pour around them. Eventually it was Clint who finally broke the silence – as per usual.

"You came back," he said simply. She shrugged half-heartedly without looking at him. She still had her eyes locked on the water flowing off the steps she was sitting on.

"I never said I wouldn't," she muttered. He raised his eyes to sky and watched as the rain poured around them and soaked everything in sight. People were running for cover across the street and frantically trying to not to get wet. However the two assassins simply sat on a flight of stone stairs getting drenched to the bone without a serious care. They always had bigger problems to worry about anyway.

"I'm never really sure what you'd do," he said quietly. She stared at the puddles forming at her feet and shut her eyes so that she wouldn't have to see the world anymore. She was sick of the world. She was sick of never fitting in anywhere. She was sick of being _herself_.

"Unpredictability is what keeps you alive," she said steadily. His eyes softened.

"It's not really what I meant," he whispered. She tensed with her eyes still shut as the rain continued to fall around them. She felt the water steadily drip from the soaked locks of her hair and fall into her lap. She should be freezing – but she stopped feeling the cold a while ago.

"_Don't_ tell me what you meant Barton," she said warningly before he even opened his mouth. He faltered and for a moment he considered just unleashing all the pent up emotions and words swimming in his head – but then he saw her slightly shaking hands and he felt the wave of emotions recede momentarily.

"You're going to catch a cold you know…" he said staring at the clenched fists she had resting on her knees that were turning light shades of blue. He felt the tension spike in her cold body beside him and knew he had said something wrong.

"I can't," she said stiffly. He paused and glanced up at her hardened expression. Repressors. Right.

"It's a curse masquerading as a blessing isn't it?" he asked quietly. She stiffened and burned holes into the ground with her hard gaze.

"Barton - when someone takes away your control over your own body, reprograms it's to the specifications they want and then tries to feed you lies that it's what _you_ wanted? That is sick and mentally disturbing. It doesn't matter what benefits you get because the truth is that it was never your choice. The damn truth is that there are things about who you are that someone else consciously _put_ there. My entire life was made up and specifically designed for me – I don't even know if my earliest memories are real. Natalia is not even my real name – I don't even _know_ what my real name is," she said with a distant look on her face. She really _didn't_ know who she was or who she once could have been.

Clint froze as the words he never thought he would ever hear echoed in his ears. She _never_ talks about her past. She never tells him _anything_. He was slightly in shock – okay more than just slightly. He was downright stunned. The silence stretched on between them as he tried to grasp at his thoughts and somehow just give her significant words a proper response. He finally took a deep breath and just told her what he was thinking.

"I know the Black Widow program completely screwed your life over – believe me I completely understand what it's like to feel like pieces of you were built by someone else's manipulations. But _Tasha_… Tasha you are never going to find the answers to some of the questions you have. Some questions don't have answers," he said quietly. He watched her clench her hands into fists and tightly grip the sleeve of her soaked through shirt.

"I don't think I _want_ to know anymore Barton – not like I used to," she said stiffly. He paused and considered her words.

"Why is that?" he asked carefully. She took a sharp breath and finally looked up and locked eyes with him. He finally saw uncertainty and something that looked too much like despair lurking in her clear green gaze.

"If I find out who I really was. If I ever found a family that lost a 4 year old in the middle of spontaneous fire that destroyed everything in its path. If I find a name or an address or a faded tombstone that is long forgotten - does that mean I'm not real?" she asked quietly – barely heard above the rushing of the rain storming around them.

But to him it felt like her voice was amplified to 1000 decibels and nearly made his ears bleed. Her words echoed in his head and caused him to feel a bit lightheaded. Natasha had to be real – there was no way everything about her could have just been calibrated by someone else. Somewhere along the way between being trained into a deadly world class assassin and now she _had_ to have become her own person. He had to believe that with every fibre of his being – otherwise he didn't think his heart could take it.

"You're real Tasha. You're more than real. It doesn't matter _when_ you started being who you wanted to be. If you are making all your own choices right here and right now then you're real," he said sincerely. She continued to stare at his honest expression with a cautious look.

"How do you know that?" she asked quietly. He gave her a sad smile as the rain continued to pour and drip down his face.

"Because if you were simply a killing machine that couldn't change we both know you would've taken the arrow I had aimed at your chest without hesitation. You wouldn't have even thought twice about an offer so preposterous it was borderline insanity. And that was before us Tasha. Before we were friends. Before we were partners. Before you even knew my name. You made a choice for yourself before everything Tasha. I think that makes you real," he whispered softly with the honesty pouring out of his words. Natasha stared at his open expression for a long moment. He didn't know what else she wanted – all he had was the truth. After several heart beats she finally tore her eyes away and suddenly pushed herself off the stairs and stood up.

"Let's go inside before you catch a cold Barton – you're an idiot for sitting out in the freezing rain," she said quietly standing stiffly off to side. He laughed softly and stood up as well.

"Says the girl who was sitting out here for probably well over an hour," he shot back. She gave him a warning look which he ignored as usual. She silently spun around and walked inside with him following not too far behind. They left a trail of water as they made their way through the lobby of their building and walked right passed the elevators – they never trusted elevators even if their lives depended on it. As Clint's eyes adjusted to the sudden lighting change he finally got a better look at her and finally caught sight of the angry red slashes that covered her entire upper body. He froze. Her shirt was completely torn up – he couldn't see any of it in the dark while they were sitting outside. _Holy shit_ she looked like she just had knives whipped at her all day long.

"Natasha…why are you scratched up like that and bleeding?" he asked carefully. He watched her tense but kept walking stiffly.

"My past caught up with me today," was all she said before she pushed open the door leading into the stairwell and swiftly left him standing there was an storming look on his face. He felt the rage boil inside of him along with the new flares of jealousy he was experiencing too often for his liking lately.

He was getting worked up because he was pretty damn sure her _past_ had a name.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: MORE DRAMA? IS IT POSSIBLE? Yes. Even though I **_**really**_** like Bucky [he is a sexy ex-WWII super BADASS soldier people! That is what Steve Rogers (I love him too but he is a damn **_**puppy**_**) lacks – the badassness of the Winter Solider] – I would still choose Barton any day. Barton is just the character I see as the hero that **_**really**_** gets Natasha Romanoff's heart in the end. She'll choose him above everyone else in the end. Sure she has many, many, many love interests. In the past and in her future. But I don't think anyone got to her like he did. Not even Bucky. Sorry Bucky/Natasha fans – read the pairing at the top of the page. We are sticking with Clintasha **_**most**_** of the way through. **

**Oh did I say **_**most**_**? Ha ha. Have fun thinking about that one until your brain melts. **

**OH AND HELP: DOES ANYONE WANT TO BE MY BETA? Because honestly I miss a lot of errors when rereading. I get tired after a while of staring at the same chapter for 6 hours. **


	44. Chapter 44

**I dare you **

**A/N: Intense – but of course they are always intense. **

**Chapter 44 **

Clint clenched his jaw as he shoved the blinding rage away for a moment and chased after her. She was in _horrible_ condition – how on earth were they supposed to leave for assignment when she was getting into shit that left her looking like a damn paper cut disaster?

"Natasha," he said warningly as he followed her up the stairs and onto their floor. She didn't look at him as she kept walking with the same stiff posture as before. He glanced down at the trail of water she was leaving behind and realized with disturbing detail it was tainted with red. Fuck she must have lost so much blood already.

"_Natasha_," he growled more forcefully. She still refused to acknowledge his words. He growled in frustration and banged his fist against the wall beside them.

"Tasha _answer_ me damn it!" he shouted. She tensed but still refused to look at him.

"What do you want me to say Barton?" she said evenly as she stared at their closed door. He took a shaky breath.

"Why do you look like utter _shit_?" he asked dangerously. She stiffened and he watched her eyes darken.

"You're such a charmer Barton," she said distantly. She pulled a key out of her ripped jeans and promptly shoved it into the keyhole before she pushed the door open and stalked into their apartment. He barely spared a thought to kick the door shut behind him before he angrily pursued her retreating form.

"Natasha your lips are swollen and bleeding, you have deep blade cuts all over your torso and your hair is completely screwed up – _what the fuck did he do to you?"_ he growled completely seething with rage. She shot him a burning look before she stormed into her room. He wasn't intimated in the least – he stormed in right behind her. She ignored his fuming figure and stomped over to her dresser and ripped it open to yank a shirt out to replace the white one that was barely hanging off of her shoulders at the moment. He determinedly ignored that fact that he was getting a clear view of Natasha's black sports bra along with the deep swell of her breasts for the last 5 minutes. He tensed – but he was _angry_ at her. He wasn't going to let his fucking body change that feeling at the moment. She suddenly spun around and glared at him.

"Turn the _fuck_ around," she hissed angrily. He whipped his head to side and glared daggers at her blank wall. He heard her rip her ruined shirt off her body and he knew she was holding back a wince – god damn it she needed medical attention _now_.

"_Fuck_," she muttered as she realized the extent of her injuries were going to make it impossible to put on any new shirt without dealing with the bleeding wounds first. Clint knew this instantly without even getting a good look at her cuts.

"Get your ass in your damn bathroom Tasha," he ordered without looking at her. She shot him a vicious look before she dropped the pointless shirt to the ground and stomped into her washroom to where her medical supplies were kept. She felt his presence instantly appear behind her and tensed.

"I can fix it _myself_!" she hissed. She felt him shake with barely restrained rage. Men rarely showed restraint around her – it pissed her off that he felt the he needed to hold himself back. She could kick his _ass_ even with her numerous injuries.

"How long would _that_ take you looking like you are about to pass out from blood loss?" he asked warningly. She clenched her jaw.

"I don't care – _get out_ Barton," she growled. She felt him firmly shake his head and clenched her fists at her sides.

"Too _fucking_ bad – sit your ass down on your fucking toilet and let me help you - _you idiot_!" he growled spinning her around and shoving her down so that she was finally in an ideal position in which he could start fixing her up and stop the damn bleeding. He pulled the emergency first aid kit out from under her sink and slammed it onto the ground. He pulled out a towel and angrily turned the tap on to dampen it before he turned to her silently fuming figure perched in a stiff posture on top of the cold toilet seat.

His storming blue eyes locked with her cold green ones and he slowly crouched down in front of her without looking away for her icy gaze. He knew he was putting himself in a _seriously_ vulnerable position kneeling in front of her but he didn't care – after so many months there wasn't an atom in his body that thought she would do anything to him. Not after everything they've been through. Not after everything they did to keep each other alive. Not after all the intense emotions and feelings that have unwillingly exploded between them.

"Tell me I can clean your cuts Natasha," he said steadily. Her eyes darkened.

"Why should I? You're going to do it either way," she spat. He firmly shook his head.

"No, I'll never do anything without your consent. I'm not _him_. And when we're done here you are going to fucking tell me who he _is_ damn it!" he growled. She went rigid in front of him and finally ripped her eyes away from him.

"Fine you god damn _bastard_!" she spat. He didn't even flinch – he really didn't give a shit about her tone. If she honestly wanted him gone she would never say yes. Natasha never gave in to anyone unless she actually wanted to – she was just being motherfucking difficult right now. She tensed slightly as he poured a clear liquid over the towel in his hand. He noticed immediately.

"It's peroxide, not alcohol – it shouldn't sting," he said gruffly. She scoffed.

"Americans are big motherfucking _babies_," she spat. He glared at her.

"Not everyone has an insanely high pain tolerance as you do Natasha. Don't you dare deny you developed that tolerance any other way but by extensive repeated exposure to pain. When you broke your first arm, when you were stabbed for the first time, when you were shot for the first time it hurt like _shit_! I _know_ you felt it then! You just learned how to ignore the pain – but that doesn't mean it still won't kill you Tasha!" he shouted angrily staring at her with seething eyes but his hands were gentle as he efficiently cleared away all the blood that covered her skin. He wasn't rough for even a second. He didn't dare hurt her for a second.

It pissed her off so damn _much_.

"I _hate_ you Barton," she hissed. He chuckled darkly.

"Tasha I don't give a _shit_ what you say because I know it's not true," he said firmly. She tensed.

"No I really honestly truly hate your guts!" she spat. His tense expression didn't change for even a moment.

"No you _don't_. I've seen what you actually _hating_ someone looks like after you literally blew up Hoffa and his entire motherfucking gang. This is _not_ it," he growled gesturing between them.

"_Ugh_!" she shrieked and simply refused to look at him as he worked and patched up all her major cuts with medical gauze. She noticed his determined eyes firmly stayed fixed on her cuts and not glancing at her cleavage that was practically in his face even once. Damn saintly bastard.

"You can look - I don't care Barton. It's not like it's not something anyone else hasn't seen before," she said bitterly. Clint felt like she just slapped him across the face. His eyes darkened.

"Listen to me very carefully. I don't want you like this. I _never_ want to see you scratched up and bleeding in front of me. I don't _want_ your blood on my hand Natasha," he said heatedly. Her eyes locked with his and he saw clear rage flash behind them.

"Then why are you _here_?" she growled furiously. His determined look never wavered.

"Because I am your _partner_," he grounded out. She tensed and shook with anger.

"That means _shit_!" she shouted bitingly. He fiercely shook his head.

"It means _everything_!" he shouted back. She clenched her jaw.

"_No. _No _normal_ partners don't do stuff like this! They don't do the shit that we've done Barton!" she growled as she grabbed his soaking wet shirt and shook him in front of her. He let himself be manhandled by his tense partner who was rapidly reaching her breaking point – he could feel it in her vicious death grip.

"I never said we were normal Tasha!" he hissed.

"Why can't we be normal?" she demanded.

"_Nobody_ is normal Natasha! Isn't that what you said to me in Colombia?" he said heatedly. Her eyes flashed as she dangerously teetered over the edge of a serious break down.

"This is _wrong_!" she hissed as she tightened her grip on his shirt. He narrowed his eyes.

"There _is_ no definite right or wrong Natasha! There is only what you _want_ to believe!" he growled. He felt the tension in her body skyrocket. _Shit_.

"I don't believe _you_," she said darkly before she brushed past him and stormed into her room. He tiredly leaned his forehead against the cold tiled wall of her bathroom and took several deep breaths to gather his self-control. She was killing him. She was getting seriously hurt, she was always lying to him and she was just denying _everything_.

He finally managed to pull enough of himself together to pick himself off the floor and walk into her room. She had already thrown on a new and rather loose-fitting black shirt – that suspiciously looked like it was _his_. He froze as he recognized the SHIELD logo in the corner. Holy shit it _was_ his shirt. She was going to give him a heart attack. She was messing with his head again. He was going to go insane living with a girl who seriously pissed him off and turned him on all at the same god damn time.

"You're wearing my shirt…" he said with a slight hitch in his voice. She looked absolutely _sinful_ with her messy red hair and her model figure lost in his clothes. Her glare just made him breath faster.

"I can't wear my own shirts right now – they are all too skin tight," she ground out daring him to say anything. He didn't – mostly because he was too busy trying to stop the powerful images of him ripping that shirt off her thin frame and doing illicit dark forbidden things to her. _Fuck_. He instantly slammed several walls down on those thoughts and shoved them to the back of his head. It was a really, _really_ bad time to get lost in his unwelcomed dirty thoughts right now.

She tensed as she finally looked like she was actually seeing him for the first time tonight. He watched her take a steady breath and narrow her eyes.

"You smell like chocolate and laundry detergent," she said suddenly. He tensed but gave her a steady look.

Well if she wanted to play _that_ game…

"You smell like cigarettes and the wrong side of town," he said guardedly. They stared at each other for a long intense moment trying to read each other's perfect poker face but got shit. Apparently it didn't matter how long they knew each other because they were both good enough to mask anything when they put their minds to it. It was useful as hell but screwed them both over during moments like these. Clint clenched his jaw as the silence grew from seconds into minutes.

"Where did you _go_?" he demanded. She stiffened instantly.

"I'm not going to _tell_ you," she grounded out. His eyes flashed in anger.

"Damn it Tasha you really like to screw with my head!" he shouted angrily. She narrowed her eyes.

"I've done nothing Barton. Everything that has happened over the last few weeks has been all you. I didn't start _any_ of this," she said icily gesturing between the two of them. His eyes darkened but hers remained adamantly firm in their resolve.

"_Bullshit. _It takes two people to fuck up a relationship," he said heatedly. She shot him a burning look.

"We don't _have_ a relationship," she said frostily. He gave her a piercing stare. He was absolutely fed up with her denial.

"Maybe not – but you can't tell me we don't have _something_," he said determinedly. She viciously shook her head.

"No Barton. Stop it! I already told you this is not happening! It can't be happening! I won't _let_ it happen!" she growled. Clint chuckled darkly and promptly took a step forward and invaded her personal space. She immediately whipped out her gun and leveled it with his forehead. They glared at each other inches from each other's tense face. Clint brought his hand up and roughly pushed the gun away from his forehead and she simply gritted her teeth at the only man in the entire world that drove her to true insanity.

"It's already happening Natasha. Guns or no guns. Lies or no lies. Denial or no denial. You can't run from me forever. You know it's there. I know you can feel it too. And we both know that it's _never_ going to go away," he whispered firmly. She tensed still refusing to listen to his words – because all his words ever did was nearly got them killed by their own damn organization.

"You can't force someone into a relationship Barton," she said tightly. Clint narrowed his eyes – he never forced her to do _anything_. All he was doing was telling her the truth. He suddenly grabbed her gun that was loosely resting in her hand and shoved it into his chest.

"If you don't want me - shoot me Tasha. The only way you can stop being my partner is if I'm dead – so shoot me. I dare you to take the shot," he said challengingly grabbing her hand and forcing her hand to tight around the trigger. Natasha tensed and her eyes flashed as they stared at each other, green eyes clashing with blue just like the deep blue waves of the ocean crash against the green earth. It was always a battle between them. It was always a fight between everything they could be and everything they could not. Clint went rigid as he waited for her to make her final decision.

She did nothing. She didn't even move a muscle. He narrowed his eyes.

"Why aren't you doing anything Natasha? Why are you hesitating? I thought you never hesitated in the field? Why are you not shooting your target?" he whispered challengingly. Natasha clenched her jaw and angrily ripped her gun away from his chest and whipped it over his shoulder without looking away from his intense expression. They both heard the weapon smash against the wall behind him and shatter into several pieces. They didn't even blink as they got lost in each other's burning gaze.

"You were never my target Barton. You will _never_ be my target. And that is why we can never be together," she said firmly. She couldn't let them _do_ this. Clint shook his head as he slowly reached out and placed two fingers against her neck to feel her rapid pulse – it was beating just as erratically as his own. He gave her a knowing look. She was such a liar. Damn it was _exhausting_ to chase after a liar.

"You're scared Tasha. You're scared to feel something towards me because that means you aren't in complete control anymore," he whispered as he took a step closer and she immediately took a step back. "It's all about your control isn't it Tasha? The more of yourself you give to me the less you have left for yourself? Is that how you feel?" he continued quietly as he kept walking forwards and backing her into a wall.

"I'm not scared of _anything_ Barton," she said evenly. He shot her a heated glare.

"That is a lie and we both know it. There are hundreds of things to be scared of out there Tasha. Maybe you're not scared of death or torture or pain or even insanity – but after 8 months Natasha it's rather obvious that you are scared of having a damn heart. If I didn't know you better I would say you've already had your heart broken once Tasha," he said quietly staring at her dead in the eye. She clenched her jaw but didn't make a sound – it was impossible to lie to someone who's seen your work every single day and can tell the difference like the back of their hand. Her eyes darkened. She's gone and made Barton her own person liability – stupidest decision of her _life_. He gave her a piecing stare for her silence.

"It's easier not to feel anything isn't it? It's easier to pretend the world can't touch you and that your walls are impenetrable. But they're not Tasha– otherwise, how did I get in?" he whispered darkly. Natasha's eyes flashed and if he was anyone else they both knew she would have already killed him by now. But he wasn't. He was some completely other category she didn't have label for.

"You always like to try and corner me and blame our incompatibility on me Barton but it's never going to be me who breaks us at the end of the day. We're never going to work because of _your_ insecurities which require you to stay alone in the end," she said carefully. He froze.

"What the _fuck_ are you talking about?" he growled. She narrowed her eyes.

"Could you leave SHIELD Barton? Could you walk away from your job?" she asked tensely. He went rigid and she watched his bangs fall over his eyes.

"Don't ask questions you know the answer to Natasha," he whispered distantly. She firmly shook her head.

"You can't have both Barton. You can't want to follow their rules and break then at the same time. Otherwise you'll end up losing everything," she said firmly. He suddenly clenched his jaw and his eyes shot up to lock with hers.

"SHIELD doesn't own us Tasha. We are still allowed to make our own decisions unlike some _other_ organizations out there," he said angrily. She sharply shot him a warning look. He was treading dangerous waters now.

"Really? So who is Clint Barton when you take the agent away?" she asked tightly. He froze and the silence echoed in his ears like a roaring ocean. That question kept him awake and caused him countless sleepless nights ever since he accepted this damn post. It made his hands start to sweat as he tried to decide how much of him is just Clint and how much is Hawkeye. He still didn't know but she was staring at him expecting an answer he couldn't give. She narrowed her eyes at his tense silence.

"You should figure that out before you start throwing out accusations. Think about why you're still hanging around this shit job Barton. How much of you actually _needs_ to be here? Needs to do a job that actually installs meaning our shit lives? How many redeeming ways are there to use your specific skill set the way it's supposed to be used? How much of your sanity depends on outnumbering the shots you take to rid the world of one more bastard versus all the countless shots you still _regret_?" she asked forcefully. His eyes hardened as her words hit him like a punch in the gut.

"Life isn't black and white Tasha. There isn't just one reason behind why you do _anything_," he said tensely staring a hole into the floor. She gave him a searching look but he adamantly avoided her gaze. Busted.

"No – but I'm hitting all the major ones aren't I? 5 years is a long time – especially considering the fact that we're still disposal Barton. Never forgot there are hundreds of other agents like us working the field – we're not something new. We are simply a sharper team than any other – the moment we screwed up we were no longer considered the miracle team or whatever shit they say in SHIELD gossip mill. But that's not point – the point is you _can't_ leave Barton," she said damningly. He instantly went rigid. Fuck it was like she just _stabbed_ him in the chest and left him to die.

"That's not true!" he growled clenching his hands into fists. She glared daggers at him.

"Who's lying to himself now? Who's afraid to admit the truth now Barton? You sprout words like stability and honesty but you're equally screwed up as I am. If I'm so scared of fucking emotions then you're scared of your own damn capacity for being manipulated into _anything_. It's hard to have a conscience as a killer isn't it Barton? There are lines no one can draw but yourself. You need direction Barton. You will never admit it but you need this job more than you think you need me," she said dangerously. His eyes flashed with anger as they locked with her accusing ones.

"Don't think you know everything about me either Natasha. I'm not as shallow and paper thin as most of your targets," he said warningly. Her cold gaze never wavered and he dreaded what she was about to say next.

"Deny it," she whispered challengingly. He tensed. _Fuck_. The tense silence hung in the air between them as they stared at each other. He couldn't confirm or deny something he didn't know the answer to. Damn. Damn. Damn. He watched her eyes harden and he _knows_ he just lost her. _Shit._

"Mission in 6 hours - good night Barton," she said distantly as she clenched her fists at her sides. He watched her take several steps back and increased the distance between them. He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. He was done.

"Good night Tasha," he said with the exhaustion clear in his voice. He really got tired after arguments with her. She gave him a piercing look and for a moment he swore he saw hurt flash across her eyes but it was gone before he could even confirm if his own eyes were playing tricks on him or not. Then her face melted into a determined look before she spun around and walked away. He watched her go with disheartened eyes. He wondered how many times Natasha Romanoff was going to walk away from him in his life.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**A/N: Damn their fights just never get any less intense do they? Surprising isn't it? That it might actually end up being Clint and HIS personal issues that keeps them apart. Ever wonder that maybe Natasha seems to care so much about what SHIELD thinks and would do to them for HIS sanity? He needs to stay an agent and she needs their partnership. She is never going to outright say her feelings but you should be able to see it in her actions. Now how is their mission going to change anything in this deadlock? Danger always takes these two reserved assassins out of their comfort zone and forces them to face a lot of truths about themselves and each other. 9 almost at 8 years before Avengers people! Sheesh you think they are going to get together this early? Haha – no. Doesn't mean there won't be Clintasha feels though – they are really bad at self-control as you can see they crack every 10 chapters and do something **_**really**_** stupid like those 4 illicit kisses they've had so far XD **


	45. Chapter 45

**I dare you **

**A/N: Okay **_**enough**_** with the angst. Let's DO this mission already! XD Damn they fight so damn much. Wanna see what a clintasha make up scene looks like?  
**

**Clintasha song – '**_**These things I'll never say'**_** – by Avril Lavigne **

'_If I could say what I want to say  
I'd say I wanna blow you... away  
Be with you every night  
Am I squeezing you too tight?  
If I could say what I want to see  
I want to see you go down  
On one knee  
Marry me today  
Guess, I'm wishing my life away  
With these things I'll never say,'_

**Chapter 45 **

It's 8 am and two tense agents are driving to the SHIELD hanger for their ride to Italy. Neither of them said a word to each other since they got up this morning and got their gear and Intel packed and ready for departure in silence. They've been partners long enough that they didn't need to verbally confirm anything with each other. When Clint was done going over the brief mission details about Amelia Riviera their assassin target and Eric Conroy the weapon's designer they were required to capture he handed it to her with a steady look that spoke volumes even though he had no words. The fact that a single steady glance was enough to convey a hundred different messages should bother them –it didn't. A lot of things should bother them – but they were good at ignoring a lot of things that weren't quite healthy in their life or good for their sanity.

Currently Natasha was driving with a suspiciously calm expression. Maybe if she pretended everything was okay and that there really wasn't a huge gaping hole in their partnership at the moment it would come true. Of course she was never the optimistic type so she doubted it. She learned a few things from her infuriating partner over the last 8 months. Emotionless wasn't the best mask – a convincing mask was one where you fool your opponent into thinking you're feeling one emotion when really you're feeling something else entirely. One day she was going to perfect this skill and be the _best_ damn interrogator in the world. One day she was going rival Barton and his damn devil-may-care mask. Because he was a damn good liar who cared way too damn much.

The car was filled with a suffocating silence as Clint determinedly stared out the window as the wet damp forest they were passing at the moment covered the current landscape. The storm last night had taken down several trees and electrical lines. Electricity plant repairmen were working together to get the lines back up and running. There were partnerships all over the world in every occupation; from repairmen teams, to firefighter teams, to engineering teams to assassin teams.

They wondered if there was ever a team quite like their's though. With all its complexity, its problems, its efficiency and its humanity.

Humanity in a partnership that's sole reason for existence is to take out criminals in the world that embodied the inhumanity of human nature is _laughable_.

The fact that the two people behind one of SHIELD's mostly deadly duo are two of the most screwed up people on earth is _tragic_.

However despite everything that life threw their way, all the hardships they had to face, all the horrors they've experienced on their own or together, all the decisions they've been forced to make, all the regrets that they have – they were still taking every day one step at a time. When so many people would have gone insane, where so many others would have given up in their place – Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff have something inside them that tells them they needed to keep _living_.

They need to keep moving forward and face every trial in their lives with their heads held high – because otherwise they would die as cowards and be forgotten by the world. All the effort they put forward to stay alive this long against all odds would be in vain. They were not weak people. They were not scared of what the world hide behind its fake cheery outer surface. But they were not invincible either. They were still human – and their humanity - however many pieces it may be in - was still enough for them put their issues aside and do their damn job.

Clint crossed his arms as he continued to stare unseeingly out the window. He was never the quiet type – he always filled long drives or waiting periods with idle chatter that would drive her up a wall – but he lost all his words after the explosion they had yesterday. His partnership with Natasha Romanoff was like a rollercoaster. He never had a SHIELD partner before – he had no idea if all partnerships felt like this or if it was just her. He had a feeling it was just her. His eyes came back into focus when he realized they were only a few miles away from the SHIELD ground hangar. He froze when he realized a reflection of cautious green eyes was staring back at him in the window he had been adamantly looking out of for the last half hour. He finally tore his eyes away from the glass and locked eyes with her for real – she didn't look away.

"You were right," he said quietly breaking the longstanding silence that started hours ago. She gave him a cautious look that told him to elaborate. He took a deep breath and let his arms fall into his lap.

"I _do_ need this job," he started carefully. He watched her hand tighten around the steering wheel but that was the only reaction she showed him because even though her expression stayed calm it was definitely not what was brewing inside of her. Natasha had passionate emotions – he had learned that over and over again during the few times she has dropped all her walls. He continued to stare at her even as she was forced to look away to make sure they were still driving in the right direction and didn't crash into any trees. He had a lot of time last night to think about everything that has happened between them and he thinks he finally found it. He thinks he finally had the answer to her question.

"But you were wrong too," he whispered softly. She took a deep breath and he knew she was listening carefully. She was waiting for the words that were going to make or break their partnership. The words that was going to decide what direction their future would take.

"I need you just as much," he said earnestly. She tensed but didn't take her eyes off the road and kept driving steadily. It wasn't anything fancy or fairytale like – their lives were too grim and full of darkness for that. They couldn't give each other anything – their hands were tied by their organization.

But _honesty_. Honesty was something they valued more than anything else. Because their lives were full of lies and fabrications and deception. Rarely anything they said was really the honest truth. But moments like these when the silence swallowed up all the lies and only the truth was allowed to be spoken – these were moments that only belonged to them. No Black Widow. No Hawkeye. No SHIELD. No Red Room. No regulations. No expectations.

Moments when they were only Clint and Natasha and no one else were rare.

"That's it – that's all I have to say," he said quietly before he looked away. He listened to her steady breathing and knew she was trying to figure out something to say – something she actual _could_ say. Because they both knew she would never repeat the words back to him – but that didn't matter. Words didn't matter. Because he already knew that she needed him too.

Before they realized it they were pulling up the beaten road that led towards a large hangar with a waiting plane sitting on the runway. They both saw two men talking quietly off to the side - it was their SHIELD pilot and Coulson waiting for their briefing and take off. Clint could pilot the aircraft easily – but someone needed to fly it back while they were on assignment. Natasha stopped to car several meters away from the two men – they still hadn't noticed that the two reserved agents had arrived yet.

"You are a _good_ partner Clint," she finally said quietly as she stared at the steering wheel clasped in her hand. He felt his breath catch in his throat. She said his name. She _rarely_ ever says his name. And she basically just told him she wanted to stay partners no matter _what_ happened. That she wanted whatever they shouldn't have but did anyway. He took a deep breath and locked eyes with her one last time.

"Thank you," he whispered. _Thank you for not running away anymore but understanding why we need to stay partners. _She nodded and looked away from his eyes that were practically overflowing with emotion. She took a deep breath and her calm expression was back. It was time to work.

"Let's go Barton," she said in her usual curt professional tone – but now he could hear a certain level of fondness in her clipped words. Maybe it was just him. She swiftly opened the door and stepped out into the early morning light that was shining through the tall trees over the horizon. He stepped out as well and they both picked up their mission packs before they made their way over towards their ride out of here. Coulson looked up when they approached and gave his indebted agents a wary look – they didn't look much better than the last time he saw them – but there was something different about them. There was always something different each time he saw them.

"Why is it that whenever I see you two you seem 10 years older than the last time?" Coulson asked cautiously. They both raised an eyebrow. They ignored the fact that 10 years' worth of moments seem to happen between them between each mission they go on and each time they see their handler.

"It's all in your head Coulson," they said at the same time. Coulson scowled at their matching smirks.

"You two really like to piss me off with your freaky telepathy skills don't you?" he muttered as he pulled out his briefing notes. Natasha rolled her eyes and Clint chuckled but made no comment.

"You know you have two targets right? One better end up dead and the other better end up on our doorstep – or Fury is going to eat you for his dinner," Coulson said dryly. Clint scoffed.

"Fury is a _slave_ driver," Clint muttered. Coulson snorted.

"No doubt about that – but don't let him hear you say that or you'll be sent on the most boring field missions on earth – the surveillance ones in the worst conditions imaginable," Coulson said in distaste – he hated those _himself_. Clint and Natasha shared a bored look. Honestly all their missions ended up being way more out of control then their ever expect – even the seemingly simple ones. They highly doubted even a surveillance mission wouldn't end without at least one explosion. Clint suddenly cut Coulson off before he could continue his briefing.

"We read the Intel Coulson – we'll see you when we get back," Clint said as he walked passed his handler and patted him companionably on the shoulder before he headed towards the waiting plane. He really had no interest in hearing the same info regurgitated back to him. Coulson sputtered as his briefing got cut short.

"He just blew me off!" Coulson said in shock as he stared at the retreating back of Clint Barton. Natasha snorted as she glided past him.

"Don't worry he does that to _everyone_," she muttered as she followed her partner into their next mission. She had a feeling she would follow him anywhere. It was a dangerous thought – but compared to all the dangers they are up against in their day to day lives it was meaningless to her now. For once in her life she was just going to do something because she _wants_ to - not because it's a smart choice.

A _smart_ choice would have been slipping away when she had the chance – before they were in too deep.

11 hours later on the other side of the world for once our deadly duo were actually preparing for their mission in a high end 5 star Italian hotel. They had to play the part of a pair of rich aristocrat attendees for the charity masquerade ball that was happening in one of the football field sized ballrooms in the huge venue across the street. Damn the only time they got to milk SHIELD for all they were worth was during these high class oriented missions.

But they were still cheap enough to only give them only one room with a single bed. _Bastards_.

Natasha huffed she stood in front of the wall to wall mirror in their hotel bathroom and tried to properly pin up her red curls which had gotten a lot longer than she preferred over the months. She's been a bit too busy recently to even have time to think about cutting it. Another one of the many dubious skills of Natasha Romanoff. She could cut a mean hairdo with a pair of ordinary craft scissors – but she could castrate a man with them just fine too. _Ah_ the things you learn how to do in a tight spot.

She heard familiar footsteps from around the corner and idly glanced at her gun lying on the sink counter. She had a feeling she knew who it was though and simply continued adding pins to her hair. She glanced down to pick up another handful and when she looked back up her green eyes locked with blue through the mirror. She didn't break her flow through and kept eye contact with him as she worked. He had changed out of his comfortable uniform (though she never understood how a sleeveless vest was comfortable in chilly September weather) and into a smart black tuxedo right out of a spy movie. Oh god she _hated_ American spy movies. They romanticized their world to the point where she wanted to vomit up her lunch. It was nauseating how childishly they approached the world of espionage and deception.

"You know these are the missions I love and hate the most," he said as he leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms across his chest. She raised a careful eyebrow.

"Why is that?" she asked warily. He shrugged noncommittally.

"Love them because I really _despise _the thought of harsh outdoor field missions right now. The fact that we get to escape shit roadside motels and crap weather for a while helps too. Hate them because I can't stand…wearing stuffy black suits," he said quickly glancing away from her. He silently cursed himself for hesitating in the middle of his sentence. They both knew he had changed his second statement at the last second. She gave him a suspicious look.

"Why do you _really_ dislike these missions Barton?" she asked steadily holding his gaze with her own in the mirror. He tightly clenched his jaw and adamantly refused to answer. She gave him a searching look and then suddenly her entire body went rigid.

"I don't want to know do I?" she said narrowing her eyes. His eyes fell and he stared holes into the marble tiled floor.

"Don't ask, don't tell Tasha," he said quietly. She gritted her teeth and swiftly spun around to pin him with her heated gaze.

"I don't care who you are Barton or what we are – you are _never_ allowed to get between me and my job. I need to do this just as much as you do. Maybe not for the same reasons but I live my life on my own terms and use my skills how I deem fit and _no one_ is going to change that," she growled dangerously. He smiled weakly at her strong views that would never go away. It was one of the many things he admired about her.

"I know," he said softly. She clenched her jaw as quiet controlled fury stormed in her eyes.

"Someone recently told me not to treat him like glass – return the courtesy Barton," she said warningly. He winced at the bite in her tone.

"I never treat you like glass Tasha – doesn't mean I have to like what espionage means for you," he said carefully. Natasha's eyes darkened.

"No one said you had to like it," she said curtly. He shot her a measured look.

"I'm not hiding the fact that I don't – but I'm not a hypocrite. I won't ever stop you from doing your job," he said staring at her dead in the eye. She stared back with piercing gaze searching his face for any lies or deception. She found none – but then again he was a skilled actor himself. He suddenly glanced up at her pined up hair and froze.

"Is that a hidden blade in your hair?" he asked in disbelief as he unconsciously reached up to brush her red hair away from the sheathed blade embedded in her tight bun. She tightly grabbed his wrist before he could really mess up her work and shot him one of her coldest glares he has ever seen. She firmly gripped his wrist and squeezed until it really started to feel uncomfortable to the point that he nearly winced. Ouch she was overkill.

"Touch my hair again and you might just find out Barton," she said calmly but he heard the death threat loud and clear. Don't touch the Russian's hair – noted. He coughed and stepped away from her necessary but downright irritating pre-mission prepping. She let him go and went right back to continuing her routine dress up. She was quick and efficient – but it still took time.

She just hated dressing up in general – women's clothing was just so damn uncomfortable and impractical. Except heels – she kind of likes heels as long as she didn't have to try and run in them. She smirked to herself – they were _wonderful_ weapons of mass destruction to men's ability to have children.

"I can hear you're sadistic thoughts from all the way over here you know," he muttered from behind her. Her smirk widened slightly.

"Liar – you can just see it on my face," she said calmly. He rolled his eyes. She made it so obvious sometimes he wondered if she really wanted to freak him out and make him run for the hills. If only Clint Barton could be shaken by the disturbing thoughts of Natasha Romanoff. Most of her thoughts would probably turn him on anyway so he decided it was a good thing he couldn't read her mind.

"We're going to split up halfway right?" he asked suddenly changing the subject. He watched in curiosity as her face morphed into an annoyed expression. The oddest things seemed to annoy her.

"I'm taking Eric Conroy and you get lovely Amelia Riviera," she said with a hint of bitterness in her voice. She had to do the capture part of the mission - utterly _boring_. Clint snorted at her irritated tone - she was such a weirdo sometimes.

"Joy I get to dance with the girl who can kill me in 100 different ways before I can even blink and then have to try and seduce her into a room together before I have the honor of shooting her in the chest," Clint said sarcastically.

They both froze as his words rang a bit too close to home. Their target was too similar to one of the many ways the mission that started their partnership _could_ have been like.

"Barton - get out and find our communicators," she said firmly as she spun away from him and picked up her knives that were sitting in the sink to play her usual game of _How many knives can Natasha hide under a skimpy red dress and still manage to move across a dance floor flawlessly?_

"Right - leaving," he muttered gruffly before he disappeared around the corner. Man was he stupid. He was going shut up now before she throws one of those sharp projectiles at him again.

5 minutes later Natasha was finally, _finally_ done her damn prepping to look like one of those airheads she was going to see all night long. She appeared in the doorway leading into the hotel bedroom and watched her partner sit crossed legged on the large queen sized bed and set up their communicators. He glanced from his tinkering and she watched him finally take a good look at her outfit for the night.

"You look nice," he said calmly. She raised an eyebrow.

"Just nice?" she asked barely holding back a snort. He picked up one of the tiny little circular communication buds and walked over to her. He held it up for her to see before he reached forward and inserted it into her right ear. She tensed when he didn't pull away and instead he leaned even closer.

"It's a pretty dress - but I think you're sexier in uniform," he whispered in her ear. She shot him a dirty look but he simply grinned. She finally just huffed and looked away.

"Tasteless _soldiers_," she muttered under her breath. What crazy man wants a woman in _uniform_ of all things? He shot her a cheeky smile.

"Why do women like men in uniform then?" he asked crossing his arms and actually waiting for a verbal answer. She gave him a suspicious look. They were damn experts on manipulation - why would he ask her that?

"Because in their little pathetic minds they think a man in uniform is strong, mysterious and dangerous on some level. But then they love to have the contradiction of him having iron control, an air of seriousness and a sense of honor that makes them swoon or some shit like that," she said carefully - wait why did that sound weird coming out of her mouth? He gave her a long _dry_ look as he waited for her to figure it out. She blinked when she realized she just described herself. Then the disgust took over.

"Oh just fuck you Barton - you are practically a gay man for wanting that!" she growled in disgust as she tore her eyes away from him and huffed. Sexy in uniform _indeed_. He burst out laughing at the closest thing to flustered Natasha he has ever seen.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

They both went silent as they stared at the alarm going off on Barton's phone.

"Showtime," he whispered glancing up at her. She grabbed her coat and handed him his own. She knew he had a backup gun in there from the weight of the jacket.

"See you on the inside," she said as they exited the hotel room. They took a deep breath as the door shut behind them and they shared one last significant look.

"Good luck," they said at the same time before they broke off in opposite directions. It would have been more dramatic - if they didn't have communicators.

"Wanna have some real Italian pizza after we finish up here?" a familiar voice asked in her ear. Natasha sighed heavily.

"Doctor I think I've gone insane. There is a voice in my head..._that never shuts up_," she muttered irritably. Genuine laughter rang in her ears as she determinedly made her way out of the building hell bent on getting her target tonight.

They were never allowed to screw up a mission ever again. _Never_.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: The sarcasm is FINALLY back. I missed their banter from their earlier days. Let's change that shall we? Also – who thinks this mission is going to run smoothly at all? ;) hahaa…evil laughter…but before shit inevitably hits the fan and we start action who wants a Clintasha dance? I can write a really sexy one too XD I think you guys deserve it after all that angst. Any dance type requests? **


	46. Chapter 46

**I dare you **

**A/N: Natasha has mad skills. Like seriously **_**drive-Barton-crazy**_** level acting skills. Wanna see them in action? Most of their missions so far have been less espionage and more Barton's fighter style because SHIELD doesn't give him these missions that often. But since Natasha is on his team now that might slowly start to change. It's not exactly a good thing. **

**DANCE MUSIC: If you want the music and the video I based their dance off of type in "Tango – Roxanne" into youtube and the first video is the one I used to imagine their dance. I used other videos but that was the music I had in my head while writing. **

**Chapter 46 **

Clint placed his dark eye mask over his face and calmly entered the massive white ballroom with a sparkling stone covered ceiling nearly 100 feet above his head. The room was packed with dignitaries and flowing dresses of all colors. He felt sort of stupid hiding his '_identity'_ with a real mask – but then you always feel less stupid when _everyone_ in the room is doing the exact same thing. Assassins didn't need masks to protect them - they needed stealth and complete anonymity. He wasn't a damn masked hero – those people only existed in stories and in the pages of children's comic books. He didn't believe in heroes. No one has ever been able to prove to him that they exist – that they even _could_ exist.

He left it as an open challenge for anyone to prove him wrong. Maybe one day he would meet someone he considered a worthy hero.

He scanned the room and leaned against one of the far walls so that he had the best view of the large packed space. He didn't see either of their targets in sight and from the Intel that was to be expected. The assassin Amelia Riviera wouldn't appear until a few minutes before everyone's main target Eric Conroy showed up. They were all waiting on _his_ scheduled arrival.

"Are you here yet Tasha?" he asked quietly under his breath. Her heard steady breathing in his ear that was more comforting then any music he could ever listen to. The only sound that he liked more was probably her heartbeat. He rarely got close enough to hear that though. Maybe that's why it was his favorite sound.

"I'm going to need another minute," she said evenly in his ear. He paused as he tried to guess why she would need extra time. There were no worrying sounds on her end of the line.

"Why is that?" he asked slowly as he scanned the room once again. He heard her take a deep breath and knew she was steeling herself for something. He paused in his search for any potential threats and furrowed his brow.

"Tasha…" he said warningly.

"Barton…don't freak out okay?" she said calmly before she suddenly cut the line. He froze as the silence rang in his ears –_oh no she didn't._ She did it again! That Russian idiot cut him off _again_! He narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw.

He was going to kill her one day. Before she managed to give him a damn heart attack because of her recklessness. Damn if she didn't turn that stupid com link back on he was going to tear through this ballroom and find out exactly where she is and compromised mission be _damned_. He pushed himself off the wall and started weaving through the crowds against his will. He wasn't actively looking for her but he was going to keep moving and maybe he would just bump into her – highly unlikely because if she was deliberately cutting him off she knew where he was in the room already. He paused at the refreshment table and contemplated how much alcohol was actually in the champagne. He wasn't _that_ desperate to calm his nerves yet - but if she kept doing this he might just be tempted.

"Hey handsome – wanna dance?" an unfamiliar lightly Italian accented voice asked alluringly from behind him. He tensed ever so slightly. It was one of those voices that made men fall to their knees and lose their senses. They type Clint Barton stayed far, _far_ away from. He made a personal rule never to give into people like that. They only use you for one night and then they disappear forever. He didn't care how beautiful women like this were – he's never let one charm their way into his pants before and he wasn't going to start now.

He blanked his expression and slowly turned around to quickly diffuse whatever interest the random seductress had in him but instantly froze when green eyes stared back at him through the simple black silk mask tied behind her head. Well shit there went all _those_ thoughts right out the window. She tilted her head to the side and a red curl fell across her masked face as she watched his slack-jawed expression with slight smirk pulling at the edge of her lips. When she licked her lips his brain started smoking.

Clint froze as he felt his entire body start to respond unconsciously. Holy shit the blood was rushing south way to damn fast. No one _ever_ got him to react that fast. He felt his blood start to pump quicker through his veins and swiftly schooled his face to get rid of the embarrassing expression he was wearing moments ago. He heard her laugh prettily – and it was like a cold bucket of ice water. Because it wasn't _her_ laugh. It wasn't even close to the deep honest laugh she makes when they are having a really exhilarating sparing match.

"Are you using a voice altering device?" he asked in a low voice quickly getting a hold of himself and shoving his intense feelings to the back of his head. This was a job – this wasn't real. He didn't want this. A mysterious smile spread across her lips and it did weird shit to his stomach again – it wasn't the pleasant feeling either. Something about these lure and kill missions echo something from her past and caused her to act a bit different. He preferred the cold and efficient Natasha he usually worked with in the direct line of fire. _This_ enigmatic Natasha made him wary.

"Maybe," she said airily with the same Italian accent that sounded so odd coming out of her mouth. He started to feel a little lightheaded. Okay so maybe she made him wary because she _really_ played up the alluring part of her personality in these types of missions. But it wasn't real and that was what made the non-hormone driven side of his brain cautious. It made him scared to feel anything because none of this was real.

"I like your normal voice better – barely hinted Russian accent and all," he muttered determinedly looking away from her and scanning the room once more. He wasn't going to let her do this to him. He really _hated_ being played.

"No one is here yet. I can see the entrance from here," she said evenly suddenly sounding exactly like herself. He froze. Not a voice altering device. She could do voices. He didn't know that. His eyes whipped back to hers but the odd mysterious expression was back in place like it never left.

"You still haven't answered my question you know?" she said with a soft sigh of disappointment suddenly heavily playing up her Russian accent. He simply scowled at her. Oh that was just _horrible_.

"I don't want that _either_," he grumbled. She tilted her head to the side again and he watched as slight confusion flashed across her face before her expression melted into a convincing pout – it would all be extremely convincing if he didn't know she wouldn't be caught _dead_ having any of these expressions when it was just them. Oh dear _god_ the day the real Natasha Romanoff pouted at him he thinks he might shoot himself.

"Are you saying _no_? Why - can't dance Mr. sexy blue eyes?" she asked in an amused straight clean American accent. He thinks it was slightly Iowan too. He blinked – he never knew she ever looked up his file to know where he was born. Either way she was really, _really_ good. He would hate to fall for this type of fake personality. He hated personalities like these. He liked her real one _so_ much better.

"You really like acting don't you?" he muttered still unfazed and pretty much bored with her little show. He felt her tense ever so slightly.

"It doesn't work if you don't play along," she said with a bit of her real voice bleeding through her tone but he could still tell it wasn't completely real. He leaned into her personal space and she simply watched him with an interested gaze. _Lies. Lies. Lies. Always with the lies._

"Let me give you a hint Romanoff – be yourself and _maybe_ I'll accept your offer to dance," he whispered in her ear. He felt her freeze and sighed before he pulled back. She was such an idiot. He glanced back at the entrance even though he knew that if either of their targets walked in she would break character instantly. He kind of wanted her to break it now though.

"Boy you are _picky_," he swore he heard her muttered under her breath. He glanced back at her slightly ruffled form. Her expression was slightly strained. It was almost like she couldn't decide exactly how to act at the moment. For someone so damn intelligent she was being downright _stupid_ right now.

"Natasha you should have already figured out by now what I like," he said shaking his head in disbelief. Was it really that hard for her to believe that he liked exactly what he saw every day of the week? He didn't know if she was trying to seduce him for fun, to prove to herself that she could or if she was testing him for some reason. He glanced up at her again and saw a flash of familiar flat out _annoyance_ in her green eyes and he _finally_ felt the tightness around his heart loosen. Her entire demeanor shifted and he could feel the deadly aura she normally carried in field missions take over. He was finally, _finally_ seeing Natasha Romanoff.

"Fine. _Dance_ with me Barton," she growled before she roughly grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and literally _dragged_ him through the crowd towards the dance floor. She didn't even care to let him say yes – he was coming whether he wanted to or not damn it. He laughed in relief as he let himself be dragged happily.

"My you are demanding Tasha," he said cheekily. She shot him a burning look as she pulled him along.

"Yeah? Well you are a pain in my ass that has the strangest taste in the entire _world_!" she huffed shaking her head in disbelief. He gave her a careful look that she didn't see.

"Why is it strange? Are you only saying that because you've never met anyone who wanted _all_ the pieces that make you who you really are?" he asked quietly. She froze and suddenly stopped walking right in front of the dance floor without turning around. It was a rare moment when he caught Natasha Romanoff off guard – it didn't last long.

"Can you even dance Barton?" she asked suddenly changing the subject. He gave her a long look. That was a pathetic attempt – especially from her. He answered her anyway.

"Of course I can dance Natasha. We're spies not guerrilla warfare fighters," he said dryly. She spun around with a fresh determined look on her face and stepped backwards onto the dance floor while she dragged him along with her by their suddenly joined hands – he nearly tripped from the speed she yanked him forwards.

"You're rather assertive. You do know in dance it's my job to lead right?" he said in amusement as he easily regained his balance and stood in front of her and her steady expression. She scoffed as she made sure to keep the entrance in sight at all times.

"I know that idiot. I can do both roles," she muttered. He paused as he considered what that really meant.

"So you've disguised yourself as a man before too. Why am I not surprised?" he said shaking his head in even more amusement. She glared at him and angrily took his left hand and placed it around her waist and grabbed his right hand in her own. They stared at each other for several intense seconds as they waited for the current song playing to end.

"Ready to get blown away Tasha?" he whispered inches from her face as he tightened his grip on her hip. She flashed him a tight smile that hid dark promises.

"I've danced with the best Barton – I've killed the best too," she said with a sudden straight face. He grimaced.

"Morbid," he muttered. She snorted as she heard the last verses of the salsa song start to play out.

"I thought you liked weird and morbid?" she asked warily. He shook his head.

"No actually I don't," he said honestly. He felt her instantly tense but gripped her hand tighter as the new song started – it was tango music. Fantastic. He pulled her close and smiled even though she was clenching her jaw.

"I just like _you_," he whispered before he pulled her into the dance and spun them across the dance floor. She remained tense as he led them through several intricate back and forth footwork around the room. She kept up easily and didn't look away from his serious gaze for even a second. Dancing was like second nature – she was a natural dancer since she was young. She could feel the control in his frame as he quickly twirled her in place and firmly caught her by her waist before he spun her back into his arms with perfect timing. She narrowed her eyes when the serious expression was still there.

"I already told you, you don't know me well enough Barton," she said steadily as he led them though another round of footwork that was more like a battle between how fast he could keep pace and how fast she could followed his elaborate steps. It was almost like sparing – but not quite. She wasn't trying to land a hit – the point was to follow as fast as possible without ever actually catching his feet and breaking the rhythm.

"I learn something about you every day – one day I'll know enough Tasha," he said determinedly as he slid his warm hand up her side and coaxed her into a deep dip away from him. He followed the motion with a swift step forwards to balance their sudden shift. Several strands of hair came loose from her pinned up bun and he thought that it just made her look even sexier. She stared up at him with cautious eyes.

"You don't know how long we'll stay partners Barton," she said before he gracefully pulled her back upright and she firmly gripped his shoulder as she kicked her foot back and slammed her heel into the hard wood floor as he forced her backwards as the music picked up.

"As long as _you_ let us Tasha – because I will never be the one who ends our partnership," he said decisively as he firmly grasped her waist and allowed her to throw her right leg into the air and slide it across the floor in a wide semicircle as he followed her hypnotic motion with his eyes. She honestly had the most killer legs in the world – pun intended.

"I never said it was going to be me who ends it," she said quietly as he tugged her back towards him and slammed her body against his a bit harder than strictly necessary. The music spiked and she wrapped one of her long strong legs around his waist and allowed him to lift her off the ground and spin them across the dance floor as her red dress flowed around them like a swirling fire. They never lost eye contact as he carried her through the dance.

"Good. We're going to be the best Tasha. You and me – we're going to beat out all of the other SHIELD field teams out there," he said as he gracefully came to a stop and allowed her to spin right out of his arms until they were only joined together by one hand.

"Sometimes life gets in the way of even the best Barton," she said without looking at him. They were still monitoring the entrance for their targets. They never forgot why they were here. They were never allowed to forget. He sighed and tugged her back towards him and firmly grasped her hand as she fell against his chest with a carefully look in her eyes.

"Why are you always so pessimistic?" he muttered as he tightly gripped her waist to lift her up and spin her around before he bent his knee and forced her to slide into nearly a full split across the wood floor. He leaned forward and searched her steady eyes for an answer.

"Because life burns optimists alive Barton," she replied staring back at him with a dark undertone to her words. He saw violent memories flash across her eyes and knew she was speaking from experience. He gave her a sympathetic smile before he warped a strong arm around her body and slowly pulled her back up into a standing position. Then he suddenly flipped her around roughly dragged her bare back flush against his chest. He felt her inhale sharply and chuckled sending deep vibrations through her body.

"My world is already on fire Tasha," he whispered in her ear as he slowly guided both of her arms to warp around his neck as they both watched the entrance wondering when their dance would be forced to end. He wrapped one of his arms around her waist once more and he slid the other hand down her stomach, over her thigh and grasped her right knee forcing her to pull it up to her chest.

"Why hasn't it burned to the ground yet?" she asked as they both took a deep breath.

"Because the fire is what keeps me alive," he answered as he picked her up and rapidly spun them around again and again and again. For a moment it was just them lost in the music that dictated their every motion.

"Then one day that fire will go out," she said slightly breathless as he finally brought them to a standstill and let her drop to the floor in front of him. He dragged his nose over her shoulder and pressed his face into the dip of her neck as he took a deep breath of just _Natasha_.

"I'll never let our fire go out Tasha," he whispered passionately. She tensed and suddenly broke his hold and pulled away from him to spin around and pin him with a fierce look.

"Why are you doing this now Barton? Why are you bringing all of this up now after what you said in the car?" she asked cautiously. The song finally ended and they were both left out of breath and staring at each other with several unspoken questions suddenly hanging in the air.

"I already told you I needed you didn't I?" he said in confusion. He didn't understanding what she was saying. She herself looked confused now. What the hell?

"Yes you need us to be partners – so what? I already knew that a long time ago," she said slowly. He froze. Oh god she wasn't really doing this was she? After all the shit that happened between them she really wasn't thinking that he told her he didn't want her did she? He gave her a searching look and his heart sunk when he saw resignation somewhere in the depths of her green eyes.

She did.

"Natasha. You're so _stupid _sometimes," he said with a sigh. She froze and completely blanked on him. Now he knew for a fact she was just hiding her utter shock. He reached out to pull her close and felt her instantly tense as she glanced over his shoulder – it wasn't because of him. There was a slim dark-haired late arrival wearing a white mask that completely contrasted with her deep black dress that just walked into the room.

"Your target is here," she said quietly popping the bubble they had been stuck in together. He sighed and leaned his forehead against her shoulder. Damn mission.

"I prefer dancing with you - you know that right?" he whispered in her ear. She rolled her eyes – he was comparing dancing with his partner and his target. Obviously she would win even if she was the shittiest dancer on earth. Idiot.

"Shut up and go seduce an assassin Barton," she said flawlessly slipping into mission mode. He shook his head and firmly gripped her waist not allowing her to pull away just yet. The dark-haired assassin could wait because _her_ target wasn't here just yet. Instead he drew Natasha closer and leaned his cheek against hers so that his lips were right up against her ear. He continued to gently spin them around the dance floor while keeping an eye on their petite dark haired assassin. They ignored the music now and just flowed with their own beat.

"You know there is only one assassin I've always wanted to seduce in my entire life – at first I really hated the fact that I wanted her. I denied it and she denied it too. And for a while it was okay like that because we really didn't know each other at all. Then several months passed and I learned things about her – real things. And then suddenly one day I _didn't_ want to seduce her anymore. One day I wanted to see if maybe she could be the friend I never had instead. I was lucky enough to find out too. She is an _amazing_ friend. Saved my ass more time then I can count. But then one day being friends wasn't enough anymore," he whispered softly. She tried to pull away but he wouldn't let her and just held on tighter.

"Stop Barton," she said quietly. He smiled softly but didn't listen – he never listened to her words – only her actions. And she wasn't pushing him away – physically or otherwise.

"One day I wanted to be the only person she wanted to spend her free time with. One day I wanted to be the only person to make her smile – a real one. One day I wanted to be the only person she came to when she felt like she was going to explode. One day I wanted to be the only one to hold her when nightmares of a past she doesn't deserve haunts her in the night. One day I wanted to travel the world with her. One day I wanted to explore something I've never found with anyone else with her. One day I wanted her to want all those things too," he continued softly.

"It doesn't matter what she wants," she whispered. He shook his head sadly.

"It matters to me," he whispered back. She remained silent. He easily filled the silence.

"Do you like my little story?" he asked with a tight smile. She snorted.

"It got way too damn cheesy at the end. The story should have stopped at her saving your ass," she muttered. He laughed softly.

"But then where would the happy ending come from then?" he asked amusedly. She suddenly looked away and frowned. There were no such things as happy endings.

"Life doesn't work like that Barton," she said carefully. His expression darkened slightly.

"No – actually it's _SHIELD_ that doesn't work like that. But we could work around that Tasha. You've been saying no because you think I can't handle if we got caught right?" he whispered. She tensed and he smiled softly.

"Things like that make me want you more you know," he whispered. She sighed and shut her eyes.

"No Barton I really don't think this is a good idea," she said quietly. He was silent for several moments.

"I've had offers from the CIA you know?" he said suddenly while still keeping an eye on the lone figure floating through the room. They were all still waiting for Eric Conroy. Until he got here he didn't _technically_ have to let her go yet.

"The idiots you insult all the time?" she asked warily. He laughed.

"Yup," he said simply. She rolled her eyes at his childish response.

"You'd get bored working your way up their stupid bureaucracy," she said with a scoff. He shrugged.

"It would be worth it trust me," he said seriously. But they both knew he would hate it. SHIELD was the only organization out there that gave them the right amount of freedom along with proper regulation. But he would still do it if he had to. If they got caught and service terminated he had somewhere to go – that was the point.

"Do they even _allow_ for newbies to choose their partners in the CIA?" she said warily. He froze. Was she saying what he thought she was saying?

"Are you serious?" he asked in shock. She gave him a long look. well it wasn't like she was jumping to switch organizations. She rather liked their current handler - it kind of helped that he saved their lives.

"You still gotta work for it Barton," she said dryly. He scoffed.

"Haven't you already put me through enough shit Tasha? You and your annoying mood swings, odd habits and evil pranks. Damn if only the world knew just _how_ sadistic you can be," he muttered. She scowled and was about to smack him upside the head when they both tensed as they saw Eric Conroy finally enter the room. Damn time was up. They were always running on pre-set time limits.

"Bye Tasha. Tell me later. Go get your target," he whispered as he brushed his lips against her cheek and walked away while taking his warmth with him. She stood there for several moments breathing in several deep breaths and trying to compartmentalize the mess of emotions he always leaves behind in her before she schooled her face and walked off in the opposite direction. Great now her cheek would be burning for the rest of the night. Bastard did it on purpose she was sure.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Now things are going to get messy! Yay! But **_**how exactly**_** is the question. I got a plan. haha. ACTION TIME :D And um…raised your hopes. Ek. And btw TANGO IS HARD TO WRITE DAMN IT! The video moves are so fast! WOW. That scene took well over an hour to write out. haha. Sorry real dancers! I was just making some of the moves up! If I said something that is not actually physically possible I'm sorry! I can't dance at **_**all**_**! I just have a really good imagination. Haha. **

**DID YOU LIKE THE DANCE? :D **


	47. Chapter 47

**I dare you **

**A/N: Now we are going to have some fun! Ahahahaa. **

**Chapter 47 **

Clint appeared to be the epitome of calm as he walked away from his partner and towards his target but really all he wanted to do was ditch this stupid mission and drag his partner out of here and honestly do anything else but stay here. _Anything_. He didn't even care if she wanted to do anything physical with him. They could just go and have that damn pizza like he wanted and he would be happy.

Then he suddenly tensed – but he _needed_ to finish this mission first. He didn't lie to her – he does need this job. He never wanted to go back to the days when he felt like he was drowning in his own regrets and was honestly so far gone in depression that anyone could manipulate him into doing their damn bidding. He was a man of action – he needed to be kept busy. He needed SHIELD to keep his demons at bay– but he needed _her_ to give him a reason to keep smiling.

He took a deep breath and steeled his resolve. He was going to get his target, he was going to get this damn mission done and then he could do whatever the hell he wanted with Natasha before the second extraction team came to pick them up in the morning. He promised her he would never let his feelings interfere with their job. He kept his promises so he shoved Natasha out of his head temporarily and focused at the job at hand.

"Hey beautiful – wanna dance?" he asked coolly from behind the target. He watched the petite masked assassin tense as she realized he was talking to her. He also heard a clear snort in his ear. So yeah he was copying the master seductress' moves she used on him – where was the shame in reusing good material? Just because it didn't work on him doesn't mean it wouldn't work on everyone else. He was sure Natasha could have made anyone else putty in her hands with those words – him included if only he didn't want the real her _so_ _much more_. He already had a taste of what real Natasha was like – fake just wasn't going to cut it ever again. Reality was too addicting. He honestly had a theory that she probably even tasted different when she was acting. He never wanted to find out what kissing Natasha as a target was like. It would ruin the 3 real kisses he _did_ have.

He watched the rather small yet clearly deadly assassin gracefully spin around and lock eyes with him - her brown eyes were cold as ice but not dead like most seasoned assassins he's met in his life. Few of them actually looked alive if you watched them carefully enough. Most just live through the motions. Tasha had been one of the _most_ emotionless empty assassins he'd ever had as a target - but her actions of sparing a child from her bullet that was meant for another spoke for her. However the eyes of the girl in front of him were young and very, _very_ alive. It made him second guess the fact he was going to shoot her tonight.

"Not interested lightweight," she said curtly. He didn't show his shock but how the hell did she know he was a lightweight drinker?

_"Don't worry anyone good enough can figure that out from the fact that you are the only man in the room that hasn't even taken a single sip of champagne. You reek of clean alcohol-free for life type,"_ a calm clear soothing voice said in his ear. He ignored the fact that he wished he could see the face behind that voice. He considered her words instead - wait a second he was a _type_? He quickly refocused on the situation at hand.

"Not even in giving a poor lonely man a shot?" he asked downheartedly continuing the charade as he tried to figure this girl out and what she knew about him. He swore he never met her in his life. Her eyes flashed as his words seemed to ring a cord in her – she had a past. They all had pasts but her's must be more recent.

"_No one_ is poor here," she spat and he was slightly taken aback by the bite in her tone but didn't let it show either obviously. He saw her glace over at her target walking through the crowed and Clint saw not too far back there was a beautiful redhead pursuing him at the moment. Clint kind of wished she was pursing _him - _but at the same time he knew she was in mission mode and he stood by his earlier words - he never wanted to be treated like a target.

_"She'll crack soon when people start staring - she doesn't want to attract attention. Just keep asking,"_ a steady voice advise in his ear. She was way too good at this stuff. She was honestly going to be the best agent of SHIELD one day. She was going to likely be even better than him – but he didn't care. He was just thankful she wanted to stay as his partner and therefore his equal.

"Come on little firecracker. Give me just one dance and then you'll never see me again. I won't leave until you say yes you know?" he said in a low voice flashing the ice cold assassin a devilish grin that had women fanning themselves around them. He knew he wasn't conventionally handsome (even though he would love to know exactly what his partner thought of him after everything that has happened between them), but handsome looks is not the only part of being attractive. Sometimes it's all about how you carry yourself and the aura you have around you. And he wasn't afraid to admit he had a rather damn good dark appeal to women. The only problem was he really didn't care for beautiful women. He just wanted one assassin that drove him crazy and was a chronic _liar_.

He reached out and lightly twirled a dark curl in his hand and shot the target another look that held dangerous dark however empty promises. She looked just slightly ruffled and he smirked internally. He has perfected the art of manipulation and he didn't care if he had to maybe exploit his body to do it. He knew it gave you a rush of power when you were successful - he understood Natasha's willingness to use her skills when required all too well. It was dangerously addicting to watch people fall prey to your skills. But maybe he was enough now for her not to want to use them useless strictly necessary. Maybe he was enough that she didn't need to find that rush of success anywhere else. He could simply give it to her instead.

He watched the dark-haired assassin Amelia Riviera shoot him a suspicious look. Well she was good enough not to take a random American up on his offer. She was also good enough to come seriously prepared because he could make out countless knives hidden beneath her dress and the gun strapped to the back of her thigh. He knew what to look for after working with Natasha for some time.

"Did the redhead ditch your sorry ass or something tough guy?" she asked dryly. This caused Clint to visually tense - oh _shit_ she had been watching them?

_"Be spiteful Barton. Play it off that I was a bitch and you think she is the better catch,"_ Natasha said steadily. He heard nothing in her voice except clear professional advice. He expected nothing less. He laughed casually and tugged at the target's hair even while she continued to glower at him.

"Honey she was just something pretty to pass my time while I waited for a better dancing partner. And then I saw you and I knew you could dance the night away in that tight little black dress of yours. I left her with her heart racing, her thoughts jumbled and definitely wanting more you know?" he said colouring his tone with some obvious arrogance. Arrogance made you seem easily disarming to assassins – it meant you didn't have that many brain cells. But Clint Barton was _far_ from brainless. He knew what he was saying were lies – but in his head he hoped she knew very well that he would _never_ leave her – not willingly.

"_Oh wow you really don't get any better do you?"_ Natasha said scrunching up her nose in distaste. Okay then. So apparently his acting was so horrible there was no way she could even think about being jealous. Clint had to try _extremely_ hard not to roll his eyes. Riviera finally _did_ start to notice the stares the two of them were attracting and gritted her teeth at him. He simply shot her a cocky smirk.

"Fine you American _bastard_," she growled shaking with rage that someone was seriously getting in her way of her job. He knew the feeling and nearly furrowed his brow. Who _was_ this woman? He held out his hand for her to take like the gentleman he was definitely _not_ and watched her eyes flash as she reluctantly gave it to him. He tried to charm her by pulling her hand up to his mouth and placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. He knew the storm in his ear was coming before it even hit.

"_UGH! You better not EVER kiss my hand like that Barton or I will break your wrist in half!"_ Natasha said in utter disgust. Oh that meant she was _definitely_ watching him. Clint nearly snorted – he knew that very well. Riviera seemed to share Natasha's sentiments because the disgust on her face was clear as day.

"Really? 18th century much?" she grumbled as he placed his hand on her waist and pulled her through a slow song with mostly just twirling across the dance floor – thank god it wasn't something as passion oriented as the tango. He didn't think he could do that with anyone else besides Natasha. He thinks she forever ruined that dance for him. She might end up ruining every dance out there if he let her.

He engaged in a seriously disturbing staring match with his target as they floated around the room both shooting looks at the calm and collected weapons designer sitting at the bar suddenly being approached by the same redhead he had been originally dancing with. Uh oh. He felt Riviera suddenly tense in his arms and knew they were busted. _Well shit. _

"Who the _fuck_ are you?" she growled as she felt him tighten his grip on her waist and locked her into the dance. She glared daggers at him but he continued to force her to dance. He finally decided he was going to break some SHIELD field rules. He's broken them only once before and maybe this time would show equally positive results.

"Why are you doing this job Riviera?" he asked quietly. She tensed and her eyes flashed in utter rage.

"Let. Me. Fucking. Go. _Before I stab you!_" she growled trying to rip her hand away from his but he was stronger and kept her trapped in his arms. He gave her a firm look.

"Why are you an assassin Riviera? Why are you working for the Italian black market dealers of all people? You know if you kill important people like Eric Conroy that just puts you on _more_ blacklists across the world right?" he said guardedly. She gritted her teeth at him.

"Shut up you bastard! You don't _know_ me," she hissed. His eyes saddened.

"But I do – I read your file," he said quietly. She narrowed her eyes and tried to get away from him again but it was futile.

"Who the hell sent you?" she growled. He shook his head.

"Doesn't matter. The point is Riviera – I'm here to kill you," he said steadily. She froze as he continued to lead them robotically through their dance. He was giving her a choice.

Life was full of choices.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Not so clear cut assassination anymore is it? I sort of like Amelia Riviera. Who thinks that is her real name though? HAHA! Any guesses to who she might really be? COMIC TIME! **

**I love mysteries! **

**Yeah the action is in the next chapter. you won't expect what happens :) Not at all. muhahaha. **


	48. Chapter 48

**I dare you **

**A/N: So I loved all the guessing! Most of you were dead WRONG. Haha. And um…some of you guessed it right and I told you but I changed my mind last minute because I realized a different character would work better! Sorry!  
**

**Chapter 48**

.

.

.

.

.

.

While Barton was royally screwing up their mission on the dance floor Natasha had finally tracked down Eric Conroy at the small bar on the far side of room. She wasn't going to call Barton on his rule breaking – he was a seasoned agent – he should know what he was doing.

She took one good look at Conroy and his bored expression as he stared out at the crowd and knew he was not interested in women _at all_. Dear god why were all her recent targets either gay or in love with technology? He was the celibate type. Mad genius who would have an affair with a computer if he could.

Crazies.

Suddenly his demeanor changed and he was scanning the room with a calculative look and that was when she knew he was no idiot. He worked with weapons all day – he should know how they are used on a daily basis. Hell he should even know how to fight if he was any good at really understanding the finer details of weapons. She walked right up to him and he shot her a wary look.

"Can I have this seat?" she asked steadily pointing to the empty seat beside him. She was not even going to _bother_ seducing him. It would be a waste of her time. He gave her a cautious look but shrugged.

"Whatever darlin'," he grumbled as he looked away. She would have been pissed at the endearment if she wasn't so glad that for once she didn't have to be objectified to get her job done. Barton should be _ecstatic_. She shot a quick look out at the dance floor and at the tensely twirling pair – Barton was currently _busy_. Idiot was still trying to talk his way out of killing their target. She sighed – he had a hero complex. He would never admit it but he did.

"So…are you here to kill me?" Conroy asked right off the bat. She paused – he was the straightforward type. Interesting. She crossed her legs as she sat beside him and continued to watch her partner work his non-existent magic. He was failing miserably in his attempts to convince the angry little black haired assassin that she should give up being bad. Natasha snorted – she thinks he just had a really lucky day the day he gave her the same choice. That…and deep down if she was honest with herself she had wanted an out of her old life for a long time. She did not think for a second the girl dancing with him wanted the same. She had been tired of her life when Barton came along – but Amelia Riviera looked like she had a reason for doing what she was doing. Barton would not be able to convince her of anything she was sure.

He couldn't save everyone.

"No. That woman in the white mask on the dance floor locked my partner's arms is here to kill you. My job is to kidnap you," she said simply. She really just gave up on this mission. It already went to shit anyway. Conroy raised an eyebrow at her frank words – he did not expect that type of response.

"Really? And you're so confident that you'll get me to come with you willingly?" he asked carefully. She didn't even look at him.

"Yes," Natasha said simply. She was bored now. She was annoyed Barton had gone and tried to be a hero even though there are no such things as heroes and she really didn't want to talk to her _own_ target right now. She was about tell Conroy to shut the hell up and deal with the fact that in a few minutes she was going to dump his ass on a helicopter when she felt a presence behind them. Oh great – _more_ idiots.

"Conroy my man! Long-time no see buddy!" a boisterous voice said from behind Natasha. She sighed heavily and felt a headache coming along. Worst mission on earth.

"Oh dear god no," Natasha muttered pinching the bridge of her nose. Conroy looked over her shoulder and sighed as well. Maybe he should just pick a side so that people would stop bombarding him with offers or threats. Same thing.

"Leave me alone Stark I am _not_ joining your little fledgling weapons company," Conroy said flatly. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Tony Stark pout as he swayed from side to side – he was _dead_ drunk.

"But Connie we'd be good together! You are making a big mistake!" he exclaimed with a hiccup. Conroy gave him a long look. Natasha sighed as she leaned back against the bar and propped her head in her hand and waited for this conversation to inevitably end – she might even shoot Tony Stark just because he was being so damn annoying. She glanced out at the dance floor and silently watched her partner still tensely dancing with his target engaged in a serious glaring match. If he looked away she was sure the assassin would try and stab him with one of her many knives – he better be careful. She didn't feel like saving his stupid ass tonight.

_Everything_ has gone to shit tonight.

"What are you doing Barton?" she asked quietly. She watched him freeze and glance over at her. Well they were completely busted anyway.

"Everyone deserves a second chance," he said steadily giving Riviera a pointed look. She simply continued to shoot him a nasty glare. _Ouch_. She really honestly didn't like him at all.

"Not everyone _wants_ it," Riviera growled. Natasha gave her a careful look – she was one of _those_ assassins. The self-destructive types. She suddenly glanced back at the stupid conversation happening beside her. They were _all_ being idiots. She was surrounded by idiots.

"Come on Connie! You know you want it! Why are you denying the truth?" Tony slurred. Conroy went bright red.

"Stop making this employment offer sound like we're _gay_!" Conroy shouted in outrage. Tony pouted again.

"What's wrong with being gay? Are you gay? I have a very open policy in my company!" he said trying to bribe the weapons expert with whatever he could. Conroy growled in frustration and shot Natasha and disbelieving look. Nobody could deal with Tony Stark. She shrugged and picked up a random champagne glass off a waiter's tray and took a sip. _Her_ job was only to get him on a helicopter that was on the roof of this place – she could wait. Especially since the dance floor deadlock scene didn't seem like it was going to get better any time soon.

"I'm sorry everyone is he bothering you?" a tight cold voice said from behind Tony's loose form. They all watch Stark freeze and slowly turn around in obvious fear as a different tall professionally dressed redhead appeared behind the drunk billionaire. She gave him a cold stare and he cowered in fear. Natasha raised an eyebrow – interesting reaction. She felt Conroy's shoulders sag in relief.

"Don't worry Pepper. We _all_ know what he is like," Conroy said with a tired sigh. He was tired of people being after his brain. Pepper shot him a sympathetic look as she reached forward and roughly grabbed Tony Stark by his ear. Interesting.

"I apologize for my boss' atrocious behaviour. Do excuse us as I…_fix_ him up," Pepper said with a tight apologetic smile that hid a sinister undertone. Natasha blinked as she watched the nearly shaking billionaire be dragged away by the tall business lady. Natasha was impressed – she is not usually impressed by many civilians.

"She is in love with him," Conroy said simply as he took another sip of his drink. Natasha gave him a wary look – there was no such thing as love. She glanced back at the deadlock in front of her and she was finally fed up with their situation.

"Barton – I will shoot your own target _right now_ from where I am sitting at the bar if you do not do something this second," Natasha said loudly cocking her gun. Everyone in the direct vicinity froze as they stared at the pretty blanked-faced redhead who had just whipped out a gun out of nowhere. She was totally insane.

"What the _hell_ are you doing Natasha?" Barton shouted in her ear as he stared at her in disbelief. She didn't give a shit at this point. The mission was dead anyway.

"I'm bored," she said simply aiming her gun at the woman in his arms. She refused to acknowledge anything she was feeling at the moment. She was about to seriously pull the trigger when they heard a huge explosion go off in the center of the room and the air was instantly being showering with debris and smoke. Natasha clenched her jaw and quickly knocked her and Conroy over the edge of the bar counter before they could get hit with any falling chunks of the ceiling.

"OH _SHIT_!" Clint shouted and he shoved both him and Riviera to the ground as the place erupted into chaos. The entire ceiling was about to come crashing down on them. He rolled them off the dance floor as a massive chandelier fell to the floor exactly where they had just being dancing and shattered into a million glass shards. He felt them both hit the wall and was disoriented for a second.

"_Barton are you still fucking alive?"_ Natasha shouted in his ear. She was crouched behind the bar with Conroy sitting beside her while rubbing his forehead. Why did he come to these things again? Something always dramatic always happened wherever he went. It really wasn't good for his heart.

"Yes! Yes I'm still alive!" he growled in pain from the rough contact with the wall. Currently he was lying on top of his seething target that had murder in her eyes. Uh Oh.

"The redhead is your partner isn't she?" Riviera growled as she suddenly kneed him in the gutted and threw him off of her. He wheezed as he fell off of her and watched as she jumped to her feet and whipped her eyes across the room towards where her target had originally been located. She couldn't see anything through the chaos and growled in frustration.

This brown haired _idiot_ completely ruined her assignment damn it!

"Fuck you bleeding heart Americans," she growled before she promptly kicked him in the gut and sprinted for the exit. Clint gasped in pain before he rolled over and quickly pushed himself to his feet. Oh she was good – not as good as Natasha but still good. He quickly shot after her and threw a worried glance at the ruined bar where he knew his partner had been. He knew she could take care of herself – he knew they couldn't fuck up this mission too.

"What the _hell_ was that Natasha?" he growled as he ran after the speeding dark-haired assassin who was hell bent on getting out of here and away from _him_. Riviera violently shoved all the panicked people out of her way as she ran through exit and down a crowded hall. She needed to get the _hell_ out. Natasha quickly glanced over the bar and stared at the mob of people crowding a fat old white man.

"THE SENATOR IS _DEAD!"_ some ugly tall women in a purple dress shrieked before she promptly fainted. Natasha scoffed – weak women.

"Someone _else's_ assassination plot just played out in the middle of the room," Natasha replied steadily as she watched the chaos unfold in front of her. Well this was just great. Not only did she not get to kill the bitch someone else already finished their job before her. She was outdone. She was pissed. She was not a happy assassin.

"What the fuck? Was _every_ single fucking target in Italy at this ball tonight?" he cried in disbelief as he crashed through several groups of panicked people and chased after Riviera who kept shooting nasty looks over her shoulder. He was still here damn it!

"It's not _our_ problem! Just go get your damn target Barton and actually _kill_ her this time because she isn't going to take you up on your offer!" Natasha said irritably. He paused.

"You don't know that Tasha," he said angrily as he continued his pursuit of their icy target out of the building and down a dark Italian street.

"STOP FOLLOWING ME OR I AM GOING TO _SHOOT_ YOUR ASS!" Riviera yelled over her shoulder and she quickly grabbed her gun from her holster strapped to her thigh and pointed it threateningly at him. Natasha's eyes darkened as she listened to Clint's heavy breathing as he ran after the ice cold assassin.

"Oh _yes_ I do…" she said darkly. She had an idea who Amelia Riviera was now. _Shit_. She slowly turned towards the rather unruffled weapon's designer beside her. Well – at least she was going to make damn sure this half of the mission they didn't screw up.

"Well if everything has already gone to _shit_," Natasha muttered as she whipped out her gun and leveled it with Conroy's forehead. He simply stared at her blankly.

"I am a SHIELD agent and you are going to get on a helicopter now, fly back to New York and probably get offered a damn _lab_ instead of a cell when you get there. Now start walking," she ordered evenly. He raised an eyebrow and didn't appear afraid of her gun at all. So he was the fearless idiot type too. Fantastic.

"So wait are you an assassin who was here to stop another assassin from killing me?" he asked slowly. She sighed heavily – shit mission indeed.

"Yeah I know messed up isn't it?" she grumbled. She was sick of this mission. He snorted.

"I didn't know SHIELD hired ex-Russian assassins," he said dryly. She narrowed her eyes. How did he know she was Russian? She tensed when she realized she had let her accent bleed in too much when she had been talking to Barton. _Damn. Damn. Damn_. She needed to fucking control herself.

"Yeah I didn't know babysitting stupid little engineers who can't understand the words _LOW PROFILE_ was part of the job either!" she spat trying to take some of her raging anger out on him. He was just a scapegoat though – her anger was directed at someone else entirely. Conroy gave her a measured look.

"You know Ms. SHIELD agent I've had a bomb on you this whole time right?" he said slowly. She froze as the screaming and chaos raged around them. She quickly glanced down at her dress and noticed the small black ball attached to her skirt. Her hardened eyes shot up and he shrugged.

"But I like your badass style. I think I might like your organization too. So – where is this helicopter of yours?" he asked calmly. She gave him a suspicious look and searched his expression for any lies. She found none. Oh yeah he was a definite nutcase for not being disturbed by the bomb that just went off in the room and just using the entire situation to test whether he liked her or not. Out of all the people that wanted this man's crazy brain he chose them because she just didn't give a shit about him. Natasha sighed.

She was surrounded by insanity.

**A/N: Now Natasha has an interesting way of being jealous. LMAO And we even got so see some drunk young Tony Stark! **

**Like I said I changed my mind for who Amelia Riviera is. Eh. You'll find out next chapter. **

**FYI: She is SO not Bobbi. This girl is too badass trust me. I will write Bobbi much differently.**

**Wanna try guessing again? **


	49. Chapter 49

**I dare you **

**A/N: Things are going to get intense. **

**Chapter 49**

Natasha and Conroy stared at each other as people continued to panic around them in the destroy ballroom. She could hear Barton still running in her ear and if she was right about her hunch she really shouldn't leave him alone with Amelia Riviera.

"I need to help my partner. Will you come up to the roof willingly?" she asked slowly. Conroy shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. She narrowed her eyes – hidden hands were suspicious.

"How do I know SHIELD isn't out to kill me?" he asked warily. She relaxed slightly. Ah. Smart man.

"Have you killed anyone with your weapons or sold them to the wrong side?" she asked carefully. He gave her a dry look.

"Ms. SHIELD agent do you think I'm _stupid_?" he asked cautiously. She scoffed at him.

"Conroy I have met so many stupid men in my life it is refreshing to finally meet one with a damn _brain_," she muttered reluctantly. She heard insulted sputtering in her ear and nearly snorted.

"_Tasha_!" Clint exclaimed in serious offence. She really _did_ snort then. Oh yeah she considered Barton to be one of the most _stupidest_ men on earth. Conroy raised an eyebrow at her one-sided conversation but made no comment on it.

"Right back at you sassy – so are we leaving this shit-show or what?" he asked as he glanced around at the rubble and broken tables. She nodded and gestured towards the door with her gun.

"You first- sorry precaution," she said slowly. He shrugged and walked out of the room in front of her and she followed behind him at a steady pace.

"Barton how are you doing?" she asked as she walked Conroy into a stairwell and they started climbing the steps to the roof. On the outside Clint was running down a dark alley behind a seriously pissed cold assassin who looked like she was on the verge of tearing his balls off. Maybe he would have to kill her after all.

"Not good. Riviera! Seriously you are being _stupid_!" he shouted as he continued to run after her. He heard her growl before she spun around with her guns blazes but she continued running backwards.

"GO FUCK YOURSELF!" she hissed before she let her bullets fly. Well she really didn't hold anything back did she?

"Aw _shit_!" Clint cursed before he ducked and dived out of the line of fire as she rapidly shot at him from down the alley. He quickly rolled behind a dumpster and picked up a metal garbage can lid and started running after her again. She stared at him in disbelief as he blocked her bullets with the makeshift shield. He was so damn persistent!

"UGH! WHAT DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND ABOUT _GO FUCK YOURSELF_?" she shouted at him in fury before she spun around and sprinted around the corner. Clint groaned and rounded the corner right behind her. They were going to be at this for a while.

"Tell me when you're done with Conroy Tasha," he said steady as he trailed the smartass assassin who was weaving confusing paths through the inner alleys of the outskirts of Rome. Natasha paused as she heard him take a deep breath - the type of breath she knew meant he was going to do something that made her put him on her stupid men list in the first place. She needed to get to him soon.

"I will but _Barton_..." she said warningly. He ignored her tone as he continued to follow his target.

"I have a plan Tasha," he whispered before he promptly dropped his direct pursuit of Amelia Riviera and ran down a connecting alley. He had an idea. Natasha gritted her teeth as his vagueness sparked a familiar annoyance in her. She always hated all his plans.

Conroy and her and reached the roof and when they opened the door at the top of the staircase there was indeed a helicopter and the first extraction team waiting for pick up. He turned around and glanced down at the skirt of her dress and at the explosive he had tagged her with.

"You probably want to take that off – it's real," he said with an apologetic smile. She waved off his apology. He had every right to defend himself against her – people have been after him for months. She carefully unhooked the bomb from her dress and paused.

"Conroy – can I ask you for a favor?" she asked staring at the little black explosive in her hand with an odd expression on her face. He raised an eyebrow as he climbed into the helicopter and took a seat facing her stiff figure standing back on the roof. The night was slightly chilly and blew the hair that had escaped her bun into her face. They shared a long look and suddenly he frowned.

"If you're thinking what I think you're thinking you are one crazy assassin Ms. SHIELD agent…" he finally said warily. Natasha chuckled lightly.

"Call me Romanoff," she said with a slight smirk on her face. Conroy blinked.

"Is that even your _real_ name?" he asked slowly. She gave him a mysterious smile.

"You'll never know for sure will you?" she said tilting her head to the side as she listened to her partner grunt as it sounded like he tripped and nearly hit a wall. She heard a quiet shuffling of clothes and wondered what exactly he was trying to do. It was time to go save his ass before he passed out from all the running.

.

.

.

.

Meanwhile Amelia Riviera was _pissed_. She can't believe she got caught and tagged by another team of assassins during her assignment! And the damn male half of the team actually had the audacity of trying to show mercy? She should slit his throat for his insulting actions!

She was going to be in so much shit now. Stupid Italians wannabe gangsters are going to flip their shit when they find out not only did she not eliminate Eric Conroy - she was pretty sure that stupid assassin team captured him for their own organization. She had no idea who they were because of their masked faces - but she was going to find out.

She swiftly held her gun close as she ran across a deserted street and flew down another alley with a very specific destination in mind. Even if she failed the stupid assignment the Italians dealers gave her she still had one more job to do. She rounded a tight corner and nearly barreled right into a hunchbacked old man who has been slowly making his way down the path. She restlessly jogged in place as she waited for him to clear the entrance and let her pass. She was quickly running out of her patience.

"Hurry up old man!" she growled irritably. His eyes sudden shot up to lock with hers and she froze as she stared at annoyingly familiar blue eyes of her current opposing assassin - shit he just didn't know just when to give up did he?

"Where are you going Riviera? Are you going back to the Italians? You know they are going to kill you now that you failed your assignment right?" Clint said throwing the shabby coat off of him and blocking her desired exit. Riviera clenched her jaw and quickly took several steps back.

"God you Americans really don't know _shit_. I know they are going to try and kill me - but where I'm going or why I'm going there is none of your goddamn _business_!" she growled at him as she quickly scanned to area trying to figure out the fastest way to get around him or rethink her route there. Clint knew exactly what she was thinking.

"You won't be able to shake me off of your tail by being this obvious. If you want to get rid of someone you need to weed them out and hide your tracks through crowds or dense environment," he said steadily. She stared at him in disbelief. What the _fuck_?

"Stop giving me fucking pointers I know what I'm doing god damn it!" she shouted in rage. He gave her a steady look.

"Do you? Do you know what you are doing? How old are you really Riviera? 18? 17? Or even younger?" he asked carefully. She froze - he had her. He _knew_ it. She was a _kid_ damn it.

"You're too young to be in this field Amelia - how did you even get mixed up in our world?" he asked sadly. She tensed - she didn't want to hear this American's stupid confusing words anyone.

"I'm 16 and I am not going to die tonight!" she growled at him before she spun around and sprinted down the alley hell bent on running until she couldn't run anymore. Clint sighed and quickly followed after her.

"_She is younger than I thought_," a calm voice said in his ear. He grimaced.

"I know. She looks much older then she acts - that's why I suspected," he said quietly as he followed her at a distance now - he wanted to know where she was going.

"Where are you Tasha?" he asked quietly. She glanced down at her phone and sighed.

"I'm following your phone tracker. I'm still 10 minutes behind you," Natasha said evenly in his ear as she quickly made her way down the same alleys he had been in 20 minutes ago. He sighed as he hid himself in the shadows and watched Riviera search for a specific building. Why would she do this? They were definitely going to kill her.

"She's looking for the Italian dealers," he said tensely. He heard Natasha take a steady breath.

"Is she suicidal?" Natasha asked cautiously. Clint considered this.

"I don't think so. She said she wasn't going to die tonight. There must be a reason why she has to go back no matter what," he said steadily as he continued to watch Riviera tensely scan a packed street of tall buildings lining the sea. Great view - horrible corrupted deeds probably occurred within the walls though.

"Be careful Barton. She may be young but she is not a novice. She's trained," Natasha said cautiously. Clint tensed as disturbing thoughts flashed through his mind.

"What type of trained Natasha...?" he asked carefully. But he already knew the answer. Natasha took a deep breath.

"She's one of them Barton. She's the next one in the Black Widow program," Natasha said shutting her eyes and clenching her jaw. Damn it why didn't she see it before?

Clint froze.

"Holy shit Natasha she is just 16 years old!" Clint said in disbelief. Natasha gritted her teeth.

"I started when I was 9 Barton. She is starting _late_," Natasha said steadily. Clint tensed. They both knew why she was being forced into the program so late. _Someone_ had dropped out. They needed a replacement. Shit.

"What does that mean exactly?" he asked dreading what she would say. Natasha steeled her eyes.

"She has to do in 1 year likely what I had to do in 6," she said damningly. He froze.

"She's going to kill herself doing that!" Clint exclaimed in horror. Natasha angrily rubbed her forehead as she quickly sped up.

"Barton. Barton I don't think her target was _ever_ Eric Conroy. I think her real target _is_ the current Italian dealers' leader," she said darkly. Clint swore and spun around to watch Riviera clench her fists and walk right into one of the buildings at the end of the street. She was as good as dead. He didn't even have to do anything. She really was on a suicide mission.

"Holy shit she lied. There is no _way_ she is surviving tonight. What is wrong with you Russians and lying so dramatically?" he growled in frustration. Natasha would have shot him a seriously nasty look if he was in front of her right now.

"It's our job to be liars Barton," she reminded him steadily. He suddenly tensed.

"Yeah but I'm not going to just sit around let a 16 year old die just because some idiots in stuffy collared shirts back in motherfucking Russia told her she needed to do mission fucking impossible," he growled seething with anger. Natasha suddenly tensed.

"Barton…" Natasha said warningly as she suddenly started moving even faster. Clint stepped out of the shadows and walked around the building towards the back. There had to be another way in.

"I'm going in Tasha," he said determinedly. Natasha clenched her jaw – _holy shit._

"_Barton_!" she growled - she was practically sprinting now.

"I hope you're close Tasha," he said as he took a deep breath while he stared at a locked door he could effortlessly unlock. He jimmied it for a second and it easily clicked open.

"BARTON YOU _IDIOT_!" she screamed in his ear and she flew down an alley not too far behind him at all. He smiled grimly as he walked into a building he didn't know if he would ever walk out of. She was going to kill him. She was going to fucking kill him for walking into one of the most heavily armed underground bases in the world for no fucking reason. Natasha Romanoff was going to murder Clint Barton for being a reckless _idiot_!

He had _shit_ for brains – he honestly did!

Clint steeled his eyes and he quietly made his way through a relatively silent floor of a building that looked like any ordinary office building – he highly doubted that though. He heard a quiet commotion down a hall and noiselessly made him way towards it. He passed several locked rooms and tried not to think about what happened behind most of these walls. He didn't want to think about exactly what type of business transactions occurred in this type of place. He listened to Natasha's angry rapid breathing as she ran as fast as she possibly could – she might not make it in time. He approached an open door at the end of the hall and steeled his nerves. He instantly started hearing voices.

"Amelia Riviera you failed to completely your assignment – why the _fuck_ did you come back?" an angry voice growled from the open doorway Clint was pressed up against the wall beside.

"There are a lot of reasons why I came back – most of them you wouldn't understand," Riviera said tightly. Clint heard a gun cock – but he knew it wasn't hers.

"What the fuck are you talking about Riviera? You botched your first and last assignment from us – you're a _shit_ assassin. You let Eric Conroy get away!" the voice shouted at her.

Barton couldn't see it but he listened as Riviera laughed darkly. She shook her head and suddenly leveled her gun with a slightly stunned Italian's face. His men in the room all instantly tensed and readied to shoot her on sight if she made one wrong move.

"I don't give a shit about Conroy. _You're_ my real target Morelli. My name isn't Amelia Riviera. It's Yelena Belova and once you're dead I'm going to be the next Black Widow," Yelena said dangerously.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Apparently all Black Widows are crazy intense…and did I mention a little crazy? **

**Is she gonna die? Or is Barton gonna try and be a hero? You wonder after trying to save so many people why he joined the Avengers in the end. **

**Also – black hair – wig duh. She's a natural blond. **


	50. Chapter 50

**I dare you **

**A/N: Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton are just BADASSES. Seriously.  
**

**Chapter 50 **

Everyone held their breath as Yelena gripped her gun firmly in her hand as she stared down her final true target. Clint clenched his jaw from around the corner because he knew this was a no-win scenario for sure. Fuck why were Russians so damn dramatic about their kills? Why couldn't she do it in a more subtle fashion? Why couldn't she just snipe the poor bastard from far away and run before she got caught? Why? Why? Why? His slammed his eyes shut because he knew the answer already.

_Because she is young and reckless. _

"If you shoot me Belova you get shot down dead by my men anyway," Morelli said threateningly. She narrowed her eyes.

"If I don't shoot you I'm dead anyway," she growled as she shoved the gun harder against his forehead. Clint heard several guns cock and took a deep breath. Clint and Yelena steeled their eyes at the same time and before she could take her shot and get shot in retaliation Clint pushed himself off the wall and appeared in doorway and fired several alarming shots into the air behind them all.

"HEY YOU ITALIAN ASSHOLES WHY IS NO ONE GUARDING THE DAMN ENTRANCE?" Clint hollered across the room and everyone spun around to stare at the new arrival still in a tuxedo and all. Before anyone could blink he rapidly shot the tall glass wall of a huge aquarium on the left side of the room and caused the entire place to be flooded with fish and disgusting seawater instantly. Yelena used that exactly moment of confusion to spin around and shoved her gun back into a shocked Morelli's face.

"Night Morelli!" she growled before she promptly pulled the trigger and watched the bastard fall to the floor in front of her. She glanced down at her gun with a wary look on her face.

"Wow. He's really dead. I did _not_ plan this far," she said blankly staring at her work. She didn't expect to _actually_ succeed in her final assignment. Clint nearly fell flat on his face in shock - what the fuck is she saying? She was doing great until this far!

50 guns were suddenly trained on the young Russian assassin standing idly in the center of the room.

"Yelena Belova you are a dead woman," one of the men standing off to the side said dangerously. She gave the man a dry look. She wasn't afraid to die - she just wished she had a few more years maybe. Clint growled in utter disbelief before he pulled out a small canister and smoked the entire room within seconds. Yelena coughed as the black sooty smoke entered her lungs. What the fuck is he doing?

"RUN YOU IDIOT! RUN!" Clint shouted though the smoke from somewhere behind her. She blinked and suddenly there was an arm shooting out of the smoke that roughly grabbed her by the back of her dress and literally dragging her body out of the room. She honestly had no idea what the hell was going on.

"THEY'RE _ESCAPING_!" an angry Italian voice shouted through the smoke. Clint didn't a give a rat's ass where they were going and just started running down a random hall so that they could get as far away from the angry armed Italian mob as fast as possible.

"_Barton that was the most failed rescue mission I have ever had the displeasure of listening to,"_ an out of breath voice growled in his ear. Clint's face darkened.

"Shut up Tasha I'm kind of busy right now!" Clint growled as he ran down another hall with bullets firing on his heels and still dragging a bewildered Black Widow in training behind him.

"You're still talking to your _partner_?" Yelena shouted in disbelief as she tore herself way from his grasp and started running on her own. He shot her a dark look as they rounded the corner.

"Shut up you stupid fucking crazy little Russian! I just saved your damn _life_!" Clint hissed at her. She glowered at him and nearly lunged forward to strangle him. Bullets flew through the air between them and they both ducked and started running again. _Like holy shit - they were all the same damn it! _

They ran down another narrow hall and suddenly froze as they heard several heavy footfalls from the side they were running towards. Yelena shot him a sharp look which he effectively ignored as he glanced at the door leading into the building's floor to floor stairwell.

"We're going up Belova!" Clint shouted as he violently kicked open the door and suddenly shoved her small body through the doorway. No _wonder_ she was so small! She was fucking 16!

"_What_?" Yelena shrieked in disbelief. They both tensed as they heard voices shout from both ends of the hall with gunfire not far behind. Clint whipped his eyes back to the kid and glared at her.

"Fuck! Just you- stupid kid – just _go_ god damn it!" he shouted back as he roughly pushed her up the stairs even though his hands felt like they were touching acid when he touched her. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck_. He kept the self-disgust that he had tried to seduce a girl 8 _years_ his junior locked away to deal with later. God damn it he felt like a damn pedophile. Natasha must have heard something in his angry voice because her sudden words nearly made him miss his step and smash his face into the stairs they were racing up.

"_You're not a pedophile Barton – you're too damn soft to ever take advantage of someone who doesn't deserve it,"_ a still harshly breathing voice said in his ear with firmness in her voice that only _slightly_ dulled his tortured self-hating thoughts. He doesn't know what the Red Room has made Yelena Belova do as part of her training but it doesn't matter if she deserved to get taken advantage of or not. She was still a kid. He tensed as he kept running up the stairs and shooting Yelena warning looks every time she glanced back at him and even _looked_ like she was going to consider to stop running.

"I'm not a good person Tasha. I _never_ pretended to be a good person," he said sharply as he waited for Belova to fly around the corner of the stairs before he grabbed the railing and swung himself onto the next set of stairs as well. He heard Natasha take a deep breath in the middle of her rapid breathing and running.

"_Maybe you're not the best person out there Barton – but you're definitely not the worst,"_ Natasha said firmly before he heard a loud shattering of glass followed by gunfire.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

He froze and nearly had a heart attack right there on a stupid flight of stairs until he heard her voice again.

"_Oh shut up you babies! Be happy I shot you in the thigh and not your head you spineless rats! If you were the Italian Mafia you would have been beheaded or something equally excruciatingly painful for sniffling like that!"_ Natasha shouted in disgust at the worthless Italian thugs in front of her. Honestly they were _pathetic_. No wonder Red Room made this Belova's final training assignment – if she can't handle this she can't _ever_ handle a real serious assignment.

Clint had to physically stop himself before he sighed in relief and she called him a worrywart or something equally insulting. She was relatively safe. but more importantly Natasha was finally _here_. Now he just had to stay alive to be able to leave this shithole with her. Then he could get her alone and _finally_ get to hear her answer to all his questions. She couldn't have any more denials left. They've already covered everything there could possibly be wrong with them being together. He needed to survive this shit mission - she needed to say she wanted him too.

He was just starting to feel a serious burn in the back of his legs when he and Yelena ran up one more flight of stairs and she came to a sudden halt that nearly had him crashing right into her.

There were no more stairs.

"Well genius we've reached the damn roof what brilliant plan are you going to whip out of your ass now huh?" Yelena growled as she turned around and glared at him as they reached the double doors that led onto the roof. They both tensed as they felt the stairs shake as a door several levels below them exploded off its hinges and several loud voices echoed up the hollow staircase – they found them.

"THEY WENT UP THE STAIRS!" someone hollered several floors below. Clint and Yelena both clenched their jaws and stared at each other trying to rapidly come up with some way out of this situation.

"_Get on the roof! Get on the roof and barricade the door!" _he heard someone sternly order in his ear. He angrily shook his head as he continued his intense staring match with Yelena Belova.

"That's like trapping ourselves in a corner Tasha!" he said stiffly. He heard her growl in frustration followed by a rain of gunfire before something that sounded like a body crashed through glass – possibly herself.

"_Doesn't matter just do it!" _she shouted heatedly. He tensed – they were running out of time anyway.

"Get on the roof Belova," Clint growled against his will. They really didn't have time as the footsteps climbing the stairs beneath them were coming closer. Yelena gaped at him.

"Are you crazy?" she shouted in disbelief. He suddenly pointed his gun at her forehead.

Yeah he was crazy – he knew that a long time ago.

"Do it Belova," he said through gritted teeth. She clenched her jaw and spun around to kick open the door leading into the roof and tensely walked through the doorway shooting vicious looks over her shoulder. He quickly followed after her before he spun around and slammed the door shut. He dragged several boxes sitting on the roof in front of the door – it was only going to hold for a few moments.

"Great now we are sitting _ducks_!" she hissed. He glared daggers at her.

"Shut up and be grateful you're alive damn it!" he shouted at her. Belova's eyes flashed just like Natasha's do. It was downright _scary_.

"Why should I? You're just going to kill me yourself _anyway_!" she growled viciously. He shook his head in disbelief.

"Why are you working for the Red Room Belova? Why are you letting them use you?" he asked instead of denying her accusation. If she kept this up it wasn't going to be him who killed her. She tensed.

"Who the _fuck_ are you?" she shouted repeating her earlier question. He froze – she still didn't know?

"Oh you're going to _love_ meeting my partner," he muttered under his breath. He listened to a sharp intake of breath in his ear before he heard another window shatter in his ear _and_ in the air around them. Clint and Yelena both tensed as they frantically tried to locate the reason for the sound. Yelena gave him a sharp look as she faced away from the wide ledge of the building.

"Why should I care who the fuck she is?" she growled heatedly. Clint gave her a long look and then raised his eyes to lock his gaze with steeled green ones over her shoulder. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he stared at a scratched up and heavily breathing Natasha Romanoff in a completely ripped and ruined red dress, gun in her hand and a pissed look on her face. She was covered in sparkling shards of glass and clear murder her eyes directed right at _him_. Her eyes held so many dark and deadly promises. He thinks his heart just spasmed. She must have gotten onto the roof off the last floor - well _she_ was dramatic. She tore her furious gaze away from him to deal with him later and locked eyes with the tense young Russian who had just spun around to glare at her.

"You should care Yelena – because you took my place after I left," Natasha said carefully as she ripped the damn mask she has been wearing all night off her face. Yelena froze as she stared at a woman she had only seen photos of. A woman whose shadow she has been trying to escape for the past 6 months. _Well fuck._

"Holy _shit_…" Yelena under her breath as she took several steps back. Natasha gave her a steady look.

"Did they already give you the enhancers and repressors Belova?" Natasha asked tensely. Yelena narrowed her eyes.

"Fuck you bitch!" Yelena growled viciously. Natasha didn't even blink. Well that was good enough.

"You're stuck now Belova. Did they mess with your damn head yet? Did you start losing memories of days or weeks between assignments yet?" Natasha asked darkly. Clint froze – _what the fuck was she talking about? _

Yelena froze in place and Clint swore he saw fear flash across her eyes.

"Tell me damn it!" Natasha shouted clenching her hand around her gun as she listened to the stomping of footsteps behind the barricaded door behind her partner. They were almost out of time.

"I don't _know_!" Yelena shouted back slamming her eyes shut. Natasha tensed.

"_Fuck_," Natasha growled before she turned away from the girl pulsing with rage. She was done. She was screwed for life.

"You better hope you can live with your decisions Belova," Natasha said warningly right before the door leading onto the roof burst open and the three of them had every single fucking gun in the building trained on them. The roof quickly flooded with pissed Italians hitmen and Clint swiftly backed away from the door with his hand tightly gripping his gun.

He felt himself knock back into his tense partner as he reached the edge of the roof with only 20 stories of air and a long coastline of storming waters behind them. He saw Belova on to opposite end of the roof tensely holding her gun as well. One of the Italians glanced between the 3 of them and snorted.

"It's 3 against 20 I really don't think you have a chance amici," the Italian said with a dark laugh. They all clenched their jaws as they heard 20 guns _click_ in unison.

Clint glanced down as he saw a small black object rolled across the concrete floor towards the mob of Italians and felt a confident hand grab the back of his shirt with a firm grip.

"I dare you to jump Barton with your eyes open, the adrenaline pumping through your veins and no parachute in sight because otherwise your never going to hear my answer to your questions," she whispered steadily in his ear. He froze as she repeated the same words he spoke to her during a mission months ago followed by the sound of a telltale _beep_. Then the entire roof exploded in front of his very eyes and he felt himself be dragged over the edge of the building and falling backwards towards the dark black sea that lined the Italian coastline.

He quickly spun around in the air and wrapped his arms around his _brilliant_ partner as they fell through the air, wind whipping through their hair and eyes locked as a fire blazed behind them. She raised an eyebrow as he inhaled a sharply and just held her tighter.

He really needed to stop getting turned on at the worst possible moments.

_Damn the shit you do to me __Natasha Romanoff__. _

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

**A/N: I honestly love Natasha Romanoff and her brain. Barton is obviously just as brilliant – but she makes intelligence look sexy. Besides Barton's reactions are hilarious. He really does get turned on by the weirdest things. Then again they really are a crazy pair of assassins.  
**

**WOO! Now what did Yelena do?  
**


	51. Chapter 51

**I dare you **

**A/N: This should be your FAVOURITE chapter of this story hands down for Clintasha. **

**Chapter 51 **

Somewhere far down the shore miles away from the Rome shoreline crowded with buildings that belonged to Italians dealers there was a man driving along the coast scanning the waters as he went. His slick black car coasted down the road as he searched for something. Several yards ahead of him he saw a flash of white light flicker from behind a boulder in the crashing waters and he slowed his car down as he got closer to the source of the light. He finally came to a stop and stepped out of his car with a wary look on his face. He glanced around to make sure no one else was around before he carefully walked down the beach towards the light. As he approached the boulder he caught sight of a bruise and banged up blonde who was breathing harshly with an arm wrapped around her waist. The man sighed as he crouched down into the warm waters and kneeled beside the tense girl.

"You need to do better than this Yelena to be the next Black Widow," he said quietly. The soaked and bleeding girl glowered at him fiercely. He really wasn't fazed – they were all fierce in this field of work.

"Shut up Barnes I didn't know that was _her_!" Yelena spat. He gave her a warning look. Her cheek was just like Nat's. It was unnerving.

"You should have. Natasha Romanoff is not someone you are allowed to forget," he said darkly. She spat blood onto the sandy beach as she tried to pick herself off the ground and nearly collapsed right then and there. She was _beyond_ injured. She got hit with a good chunk of the explosion before she managed to throw herself off the edge. She was about to pass out from her wounds and yet she still glared at her stupid trainer like she could take him. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Learn when you have to be tough and when you need to just let your damn pride simmer Yelena. I've trained countless girls like you. You don't all start out strong," he said carefully. She tensed.

"Did _she_ start strong?" she asked heatedly. He paused as he stared at the young but world wary Russian.

"Natasha Romanoff was always strong. You have to work for it," he said firmly before he promptly picked up her broken and bruised body so that she could fight another day.

"Fuck you Barnes," she growled and she gripped his shirt tightly. He snorted.

"Yeah no we're definitely never doing that – I learned from _that_ mistake," he muttered and he carried her back to his car. He had had enough Black Widows screwing him over to last him a lifetime. Once was more than enough.

.

.

.

.

.

Meanwhile a mile away from the shoreline of crowded Rome two drenched and exhausted assassins wash up on a deserted beach coughing and hacking up dangerous amounts of seawater. They both dragged their tired bodies onto the drier part of the beach and collapsed onto the sand beside each other.

"Tasha – you're _crazy_," he gasped as he stared up at the bright full moon in the dark sky above their heads. She snorted.

"Crazy is the reason we're _alive_ Barton," she said dryly. He shook his head and laughed.

"I never said I didn't think it was _brilliant_ crazy," he said fondly. She raised an eyebrow as she tried to catch her breath.

"You're proving your weirdness again Barton," she said warily. He rolled his eyes and slowly calmed his rapid breath as they both glanced at each other and confirmed visually that they were both still alive.

"Do you think she is dead?" Clint asked quietly. Natasha slowly shook her head.

"No I don't think Yelena is dead. She had to have jumped. But we're going to tell SHIELD Amelia Riviera is dead," Natasha said firmly. Clint furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Why would we do that?" he asked slowly. Why did she suddenly change her mind? He watched her expression darken.

"Because even if we kill her Barton…some other girl is going to be forced to take her place. It's a _vicious_ cycle," Natasha said angrily. Clint sighed. She was right. She was _always_ right.

"Okay. I can deal with that," he said reluctantly. Sometimes you had to accept the lesser evil in the situation. Sometimes there was no right choice.

"But _thank god_ she is probably injured from the explosion and long gone," Natasha muttered under her breath as she lay on the wet beach beside her partner. Clint gaped at her.

"_Natasha_!" he exclaimed in disbelief. She glared at him.

"I'm an _assassin _Barton. I have the right to feel happy if my target is at least subdued if not dead!" she growled at him. He stared at her for several moments before he finally sighed and dropped his head back onto the wet sand.

"You know I used to dream about the day you would like me enough to be jealous of a target," he said quietly with a small smile on his face. He felt her tense beside him as they stared up at the slightly cloudy sky and the few stars they could make out twinkling above them.

"Please tell me you weren't playing up the merciful-assassin move just to see me jealous," she said as she pinched the bridge of her nose. She felt him snort beside her.

"No that was real – though maybe I was being a bit nicer to her then I normally would with a target…" he said guiltily. She turned to her head and gave him an unimpressed look.

"You're pathetic Barton," she said dryly. He scowled at her before he promptly rolled over on top of her and trapped her beneath his weight. She narrowed her eyes at his bold move. She could still disable him if she wanted to – he was such a lucky bastard she didn't cut his balls off for doing stuff like this.

"_Tasha_…" he said quietly as he hovered above her. She tensed – he was doing this _right now_?

"Don't start Barton," she growled. He angrily shook his head.

"No you are going to listen! At least _listen_ to me damn it!" he said heatedly. She gritted her teeth but said nothing. He took a deep breath.

"Tasha I've never wanted anyone in my entire life. Not really. I was always too busy trying to stay alive. But Tasha I know now that I've never wanted anything else as much as I've wanted _this_," he whispered as he cupped her face in his warm palms and lightly dragged his thumb across her cool tense cheek. She was staring at him with warning eyes but he didn't care - she was _always_ looking at him like that. Instead he gave her a soft look. "Please let me have you Tasha. For however long it's possible. Who cares about forever? I don't need those promises. I don't need lies Tasha. I just need you right here, right now. What's holding you back? Please tell me," he said quietly as he stared at her with all the emotions he has been keeping locked away for the last few crazy hours. But now they were finally alone and she was going to see them whether she wants to or not. Natasha blinked as she took in a rather uneven breath. Holy shit did he just say all that?

"You're being downright _cheesy _Barton," she whispered. He laughed softly.

"Apparently you don't understand the fine art of subtly," he said teasingly. She scoffed. She was the best actress in the world - as _if_ she didn't understand undertones.

"I understand subtly fine Barton - I just choose to ignore yours," she muttered begrudgingly. He shot her a dirty look.

"Well I'm not letting you ignore me anymore. We're always fighting - what are we fighting about again? I forget sometimes because our voices get so loud I don't know what we're saying anymore," he said with a deep chuckle. Natasha scowled at him.

"Barton there is sand in places sand should not be. We're soaking wet, my hair is a mess and _you_ are the one who is going to catch a damn cold. Why are we having this conversation here?" she asked with a sigh - but really she just wanted him to stop. She watched his eyes fall and held back a wince.

"You're avoiding my questions with sarcasm again," he said quietly. She looked away from his down casted eyes and stared off into the distance at miles of open shoreline.

"Sarcasm is a useful tool," she muttered. He used his hand to gently bring her eyes back to his own.

"I don't want sarcasm right now Tasha. I just want you to stop running from me," he whispered softly as he brushed the wet bangs out of her face and stared at her with his too blue eyes that just kept asking and asking and asking. She stared back and finally just sighed.

"Barton. Barton _why_ do you want me?" she asked in defeat. Really he was just too much. He suddenly shook his head.

"I _don't_ want you," he said quietly and felt her freeze beneath him but he continued anyway. "Not just like how you normally want someone. I already told you I _needed_ you Tasha. It's different," he said firmly. She scoffed. _Yeah right_!

"What do you mean _different_?" she muttered. He gave her weak smile and continued to brush her cheek with his thumb.

"Do you want me to repeat my little story again?" he asked teasingly - he was only half-joking. She suddenly looked like she ate something sour.

"Oh god no - once was more than enough," she said in distaste. She could only handle so much cheese from him. He laughed breathlessly and suddenly brushed his lips lightly against hers and felt her freeze again. He pulled back and she gave him a searching look which he calmly returned with a determined one of his own.

"You know I'm never going to stop asking right?" he said slowly. She snorted.

"I have rather good deduction skills Barton. I think I could figure that out," she said dryly. He suddenly fell silent.

"Your sarcasm is back," he said quietly. She sighed.

"It's a reflex," she muttered. He smiled weakly at her – he knew it was hard. He always knew it would be hard – but he knew it would be worth it too.

"Tell me why we shouldn't be together," he requested softly. She gave him a suspicious look but complied.

"Because we're partners who work in a dangerous job and shouldn't be compromised," she muttered. He waited until he caught her eyes and gave her a steady look.

"I think you and I _both_ know we've already been doing compromising things and still managed to stay alive during missions," he said quietly running his hand through her wet red hair. She glanced away guilty. She knew that. She _always_ knew that. Missions weren't as real as off time though. She could let him do those things during missions – but when it was just them on their own time it was so much more real. Like right now.

"There are fraternization regulations," she said quietly. He snorted.

"We have the CIA as back up if we get caught," he said simply. He's already told her all of this before – he just want to wash all her doubts away one by one. She sighed.

"I kill people as a job?" she said dryly. His own expression went blank. If she was trying to be funny – it wasn't working.

"Well what do you know we have something in common," he said sarcastically. She scowled at him as he played with her hair. His tone was definitely not matching his actions – contradicting bastard.

"I _never_ want to get married," she said firmly. He scoffed – as if he didn't know that!

"Tasha assassins don't get _married_ – marriage is overrated," he said frankly. She gave him a measured look.

"I am _never_ going to change," she said slowly. He gave her a brilliant blinding smile.

"I never _want_ you to change. I like you exactly how you are Tasha. _Exactly_ the way you are," he whispered sincerely. She gave him a wary look and he watched her struggle to say her next doubt. She's never told anyone before – she never _wanted_ to think about it. There was no point in thinking about it – but she knew he deserved to know.

"What is it Tasha?" he asked quietly. She took a shaky breath and they stared at each other as she tried to find the right words – until she finally did.

"I don't want children. Shit. No Barton…I _can't_ have children," she whispered with a slightly strained expression. She didn't care – she never _let_ herself care – but it was still her choice that she never got to make. Someone else made it for her. He gave her a pained sympathetic look and swiftly pulled her into a tight embrace and buried his face in her hair. He felt her take an unease breath as she slammed her eyes shut as he held her tighter.

"It's okay Tasha. It's okay. I don't mind. We're not good for children anyway. Besides we have Alicia to pretend with sometimes," he whispered softly in her ear. He felt her shake her head.

"Barton you just don't get it," she whispered in an empty voice. "I did unbelievable things in my past Barton. I was a horrible person. I was a heartless person. I have a ledger that is dripping red and it's never going to go away no matter have much I try. No matter how many missions we go on Barton. No matter how many bastards I take out and stop them from hurting other people. No matter how many people I spare. No matter how many sleepless nights I have. No matter how many days I stare at my gun and wonder if I should just shoot myself and end everything. It never goes away Barton – it will _never_ go away," she whispered painfully as she gripped his wet shirt and stared at him with haunted eyes. He stared back at her with all the regrets he carried as well swirling in his own.

"I have a ledger too Tasha," he whispered back. She shook her head and he watched as a lost expression cloud her face and dulled her eyes.

"No Barton - I've killed innocent people. I've killed children. I've killed people who didn't deserve to die," she whispered as the guilt started eating at her again. She always kept it locked away but it was always simmering below the surface of her iron control. It never left her in peace. He took a deep breath and gently rested his forehead against her shoulder.

"You don't think I have Tasha?" he asked quietly. He felt her freeze in his arms and he looked away guilty. He never told her that he did. He never told her that he made mistakes. That once upon a time he killed people that he wished more than anything that he didn't. He wished more than life itself that he didn't pull the trigger. He would give anything, _anything_ to bring them back. He would give his soul if it meant they could have theirs back.

But he can't do that. They can't change the past. They can't bring people back.

They were silent for more than 10 minutes as they listened to the waves of the sea crash against the empty beach behind them as Natasha quietly watched the sky and Clint simply watched _her._

"We don't _deserve_ it," she finally said softly without looking away from the pitch black sky. Clint's face fell and he softly brushed his hand across her cheek.

"You're right we don't," he said softly with the pain clear in his voice. She finally tore her eyes away from the darkness of space and stared up at his blue eyes which were glowing faintly in the moonlight. She reached up and gently grabbed him by his shoulders.

"Then how can we be happy Barton? How can we share something only reserved for people who actually _deserve_ happiness?" she asked shaking him slightly. He gave her a sad look and tried to find the words that would finally set her free of that doubt. It was true – they didn't deserve happiness. He looked back at her subdued eyes and brushed the hair that had fallen over her face away again and slid his hand down to gently cup her cool cheek.

"Then let's not share a happy life together Natasha. Let's share our punishment together. Forever atoning for our regrets. Forever trying to build a world that is always crashing down around us. Forever working to clear a ledger that is permanently stained in red," he whispered fervently. She froze as he pressed them closer together and stared at her with honest and painful eyes. Maybe they could never truly be happy – but they could be something that is not exactly miserable either. He searched her eyes and still saw one more doubt.

"What else Tasha? There is something else – I can feel it," he said softly. She took a deep breath and stared at him dead in the eye.

"I don't believe in love," she said evenly. He tensed but didn't look away from her honest eyes. She really didn't believe in love. Not the magic. Not the butterflies. Not the flowers or the roses. But he thinks he knows what type of love she is talking about – the kind where you give everything to someone else and they give you everything in return. He knew she couldn't do that. But he only needed enough – he only needed enough to be able to say he's the keeper of a part of Natasha Romanoff's soul. He already knew their souls were broken beyond repair.

So if she didn't believe in the all-consuming love – then he didn't believe it that type of love either. She looked wary when he didn't pull away but in reality only drew closer.

"Maybe I'm not looking for love – maybe we can have something different. Something no one else ever had," he whispered staring at her with painful hope. He's waited too long to meet someone like her. He's been alone for too long to ever let her truly walk away from him. She searched his eyes and he knew she saw the honest fact that he was going to follow her for the rest of her life. He would never let her go. He would never stop asking. He would never stop waiting for the day when she wakes up from her stubborn daze and realizes that Clint Barton is never going to leave her.

He smiled weakly at her as he leaned forward and whispered something softly in her ear. She sighed in defeat and dropped her head back against the sandy beach as he smiled down at her. He watched the lingering doubts finally fade after so many months – she finally believed him. She finally believed what he's been trying to say this whole time.

"If I say yes – if I _actually_ say yes will you finally, _finally_ stop acting like a desperate man?" she asked tiredly. Emotions made her tired – plain and simple. She could practically _feel_ his smile brush against her nose as he pulled back to give her its full blown effect.

"How can someone be desperate when they have everything they ever wanted Tasha?" he said teasingly. She scowled at his playful tone but finally took a deep breath as she watched the playfulness recede in his eyes as he waited. He didn't have to wait very long.

"Okay. Okay Barton. You can have m-" he swiftly slammed his lips down on hers before she could even finish her careful sentence. She was stunned for a moment by the rush of emotion he poured into the kiss as he wrapped his arms around her waist and held on to her more tightly than anyone else has in her entire life. Once upon a time she used to find hugs extremely uncomfortable. She still finds them generally uncomfortable. But now she kind of likes his – just his though.

She finally relaxed for once in her life and slowly wrapped her own arms around his neck and drew him closer. She closed her eyes and let him deepened the kiss as he pressed her harder into the sandy beach, in the middle of nowhere, with only the light of the moon as their witness. No one else was allowed to see. No one else was allowed to know. But this wasn't for anyone else – it was just for them.

She felt him run his hands down her sides and felt him smile against her lips when she actually let him feel her shiver from his touch. For once she didn't stop anything from showing. She _let_ him see her reaction to him. She let him in just a little bit.

She felt him suddenly bring his hands up to cup her cheeks in his rough strong hands which she used to deny felt _really_ good pressed up against her skin. She denied a lot of thing about him. She denied he was attractive. She denied she was attractive _to_ him. She denied that he made her feel things no one should be able to make her feel. She denied that he broke every single preconceived notion she ever had about men. She denied that he was being honest when he said he actually wanted her – that he _could_ actually want someone like her. She denied that she wanted them to be more than just partners for a long time. She denied that maybe she was scared for what this meant for their partnership. She denied that every single kiss she ever had with him was that best damn kiss of her life. She denied that they always just got better. She denied that she didn't want to be anywhere or with anyone else. She denied that she just wanted _him_.

She stopped denying all those things for once.

She brought one hand up to his _own_ face which was covered in a bit of day old scuff that only added to his ruggedness which she genuinely found attractive. She hesitantly brushed her hand over his forehead, his eyebrow, his closed eyes, his cheek and his chin. She felt him shudder violently and then suddenly he pressed forward and kissed her even harder and with _more_ passion then before – if that was even possible. She felt him kiss her breath away and she didn't care if any of this was wrong anymore.

Clint felt several walls he always knew she kept up even during their last few kisses suddenly melt away and he thinks he was finally, _finally_, kissing Natasha Romanoff – the real girl under all the masks, the glares, the harsh words and the icy exterior that everyone else saw. And he thinks maybe he would be the only one to see this Natasha. Maybe he would lucky enough to be the only one to _ever_ see this Natasha. He yearned to get to know this Natasha. But he loved her badass side too. He admired her strength. He respected her opinions and instincts. He was attracted to her darkness but also her contradicting light she tried to hide away from the world. He felt for her tragic past and hoped she would have a better future. And he was just so, _so_ relieved she wanted him too.

The pesky need for oxygen was finally starting to nag at the back of his head and he didn't want to end the kiss in fear of everything they've build being ripped away – but at the same time he wanted it to end for now so that they could finally start something new together. They could finally take a step forward together. So he reluctantly pulled away from her tempting lips and they both gasped for much needed air. He gently leaned his forehead against hers and they breathed together for several moments.

"How do you feel?" he asked still completely out of breath. She shook her head looking slightly dazed. He has never seen a dazed Natasha Romanoff. He hasn't seen a lot of this slightly softer side of her.

"I don't know – I think I feel _something_," she whispered sounding slightly breathless as well. He smiled brightly and maybe it was okay if she finally gave him a weak soft smile in return.

"Something is a good start," he laughed lightly.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: I ACTUALLY WROTE IT! SHE SAID YES! SHE SAID YES! **

**By the way the only reason clintasha is together now is because I ran out of reasons why they **_**shouldn't**_** be. LMAO. There were a LOT of problems in their way. I wrote in depth about most of their fears and issues between the two of them. You should really understand now why it took so long. Don't think it's going to be perfect. There still are A LOT more problems for the future. But enjoy the moment for now. **

**ISN'T THIS A GREAT 51****th**** CHAPTER SURPRISE?**

**Oh I am NEVER going to tell you the last thing Clint whispered in her ear before she **_**finally**_** said yes. Have fun imagining that. Why do I have to imagine it all for you right? **

**Any guesses though? **

**PLEASE leave a review if you have read the story so far! This is like the great big milestone chapter! I really want to know what you guys thought of their relationship up until now! **

**P.S. Sorry it's the end of rapid updates! I had a 4 day weekend. I'll see you all in a few days as I catch up with school! **


	52. Chapter 52

**I dare you**

**A/N: So I sort of had this scene already written a while ago – I was just waiting to use it lol. Meh – next chapter is a few days away cause I didn't write it yet. Now the happy, happy is **_**over**_**. REALITY! (Don't worry it's not THAT bad I'm not heartless – yet. I can be heartless if I wanted to) **

**Chapter 52**

Clint groaned as he rolled over on a bed that was definitely _not_ his and knocked face first into something that felt like a pair of hard knees. He winced as he banged his face a bit too hard against the offending limbs and warily opened his eyes and looked up at a pair of cautious green eyes.

"This is going to be damn _difficult_," Natasha said the second she caught his sleepy gaze. He blinked as he tried to figure out what the _hell_ she meant as his brain tried to catch up with his ears. He froze as memories of a dark moonlit night on an Italian beach flooded his mind and caused him to feel a bit lightheaded. Holy shit did that actually _happen_? He glanced back up at her expectant gaze and noticed her slightly swollen lips and deduced that yes, yes it did and now he had to deal with the aftermath.

"_This_ is the first thing you say to me in the morning Natasha?" he asked tiredly. She scowled at him angrily.

"Well you slept way too damn long after we dragged our asses back to our hotel and I've been sitting here trying to not let the hundred different scenarios of how we're going to screw this up take over my brain and cause me to explode," she grumbled before she promptly looked away from his wary gaze. Clint blinked as the fast rush of words replayed in his head and his face fell. Oh.

"Do you regret it already Tasha?" he asked quietly. She tensed beside him and gave him a cautious look.

"It's not about regret Barton…" she said slowly. He leaned the side of his face down again his pillow and continued to stare up at her and her messy red hair that was tied up in a loose pony tail, her tight white shirt along with the baggy grey sweat pants she was wearing. She looked sexy in anything at any time of day – or maybe that was just him. Something in her words nagged at him.

"Can you call me Clint? Just when it's us?" he whispered suddenly. She blinked – what?

"I…" she said awkwardly trailing off. He gave her a funny look.

"Is it _that_ weird to call me by my first name?" he asked slowly. She winced and rubbed her left hand up and down her right arm.

"It's been a long time I've been calling you Barton," she said quietly. His eyes softened.

"I guess it makes the few times you call me by my real name special because you don't do it often…" he said quietly trying to convince himself it was okay that the girl he felt so strongly about still called him by his last name like they were strangers. He didn't really notice when they were in the field or anytime except when they were being rather intimate – _that's_ when he noticed it wasn't quite normal. He watched carefully as Natasha sighed and shook her head.

"No it's more like I just did it to keep a distance Clint," she said softly. He froze as she easily said his name. So it was a _conscious_ decision on her part. Why didn't he see that? Natasha never did anything without a reason.

"How about now?" he asked cautiously. She gave him a weak smile and slowly reached out and rested her hand against his cheek. It was one of the most intimate gestures she has _ever_ shown him in his entire life. He felt his cheeks start to heat up against his will. She furrowed her brow until she realized what was happening.

"You're blushing Clint," she said softly. He continued to stare at her without doing anything about the light pink that spread across his cheeks. It felt nice to be honest with his emotions for once.

"Yeah?" he whispered while sounding slightly breathless. He watched her tilt her head to the side as she simply watched him with curious eyes.

"Yeah," she whispered back as she stared at the reaction she didn't even try to provoke from him. It simply happened anyway – it was…_nice_.

"Are you still freaking out about how this is going to work?" he asked as the blush naturally faded from his face. Her eyes refocused and suddenly her expression was guarded again. Ah she was never going to change – he didn't mind that much.

"Extraction is coming in an hour," she said cautiously as she glanced at the clock on the table beside the bed they were sitting on that read 7 am. He waited until she looked back at him before he started talking. When she locked eyes with him he told her what she needed to hear.

"Natasha we are both expert actors – we'll be fine. We just have to be the same people from before last night okay?" he said slowly. She laughed softly and shook her head. He was stunned – she actually _laughed_. Her real laugh. What was the world coming to?

"This started _way_ before last night Clint. This started way back in Colombia," she said carefully. He shot her a wary look.

"I refuse to be what we were before Colombia," he said flatly. She raised an eyebrow.

"And what was that?" she asked carefully. He reached up and gently brushed a stray red hair out of her face and curled it beside her ear. He felt a rush of joy that she was letting him do this – that she was letting them do _any_ of this.

"Something like friends but mostly still partners," he replied evenly. She gave him a quizzing look.

"And what are we now?" she asked quietly. He watched her for a few moments before answering.

"Still something like friends but now something much more than partners," he whispered hopefully. She gave him a searching look and he didn't know what she was looking for - he had no more hidden thoughts to share with her after last night.

"It's going to be hard to hide Clint," she said quietly. He suddenly shot her a determined look.

"Take it as a challenge Romanoff. Treat it like a missi- shit actually _no_," he started to say but then instantly stopped himself as they both winced.

"That is the whole point Clint. This is _not_ a mission. You are _not_ my target," she said carefully staring at the white wall over his head. He stared at her suspiciously blank expression and tried to gauge what she must be thinking. Something along the lines of _we're so screwed_ he was sure.

"Natasha?" he asked carefully. She finally tore her eyes away from the wall and glanced down at him.

"Yeah?" she asked slowly. He gave her a calm look.

"Take a deep breath and lie the fuck down," he said simply as he grabbed her by the shoulders and swiftly tugging her down to fall on top of the pillow beside him. She went willingly of course – it wasn't like he could actually force her to do anything.

She gracefully hit the pillow across from him and they stared at each other finally at eye level. He ran his hand up and down her bare arm and felt the Goosebumps he left behind on her skin. She didn't stop him. He brushed the fall hair out of her eyes and trailed his fingers down her face and stopped to rest it against her cheek - she still didn't stop him. He gently grasped her hips and tugged her closer until their bodies were pressed up against each other - she _still_ didn't stop him. It was a crazy heady feeling not having her push him away anymore. He thinks he would pass out from the joy if he didn't control his breathing properly.

"Do you still want me Tasha?" he whispered searching her eyes for any more of those pesky doubts he spent a good portion of last night soaked and freezing on a beach dispelling from her brain. All he saw was caution and something he swore looked like contentment - she held on to the caution harder though.

"That's not the point Clint..." she said warningly. He blinked - _oh no_. Here we go again.

"Before you start on another rant about how this is going to be hard do understand that I already honestly _know_ this is going to be fucking difficult Tasha - but before we talk about all of that crap tell me you want me too. Actually no, no tell me you _need_ me too," he said cupping her cheeks and waiting patiently. He watched her breathing rate spike as her eyes darkened while she tried to find her words. But he already gave her the words - she just needed to find the courage to say them. He spent a long time inferring her feelings. For just once he needed to hear them. Just one time.

"Just once Tasha. I don't need you to tell me every day or even often. Just once is enough," he whispered staring at her with pleading eyes. She open and closed her mouth for several moments with no sound coming out. She tried to get the damn words he wanted out of her mouth but it was really hard with him staring at her like that. So she decided to remove the obstacle making the situation even more nerve-wracking.

"Close your eyes," she muttered. He furrowed his brow in confusion but did as she asked as she brushed her hand down his face to close his eyes. He felt her lean forward and held his breath as her own warm breath ghosted over his cheek.

"I need you Clint," she whispered in his ear so quietly he had to strain himself to catch all of syllables. But when he registered the words he never thought she would say - never really _let_ himself hope she would say he nearly passed out from the blinding rush of happiness. Maybe they weren't supposed to be happy - but he really didn't know what else to call the all-consuming joy that was filling his body. He felt honest joy - she was simply alarmed.

"Clint...you're hyperventilating," she said slowly. He laughed as he opened his eyes still trying to catch his run away breath but most likely he would never catch his breath around her.

"If I pass out do know it's your fault entirely," he said teasingly as the lightheadedness took over. He can't believe she said it - he _still_ can't. Now she was just scowling at him and on the verge of smacking him over the head.

"Clint Barton you bastard you better not black out!" she shouted as she quickly sat up on the bed and dragged his limp body upright with her. She could see his eyes glaze over and gritted her teeth in annoyance - he was so fucking dramatic!

"Too late," he laughed before he felt the blood rush to his head and he passed out for a moment. She caught his unconscious body easily and stared at him in disbelief. Did he really just allow himself to do that? He was a fucking _SHIELD_ agent!

"What the _hell_ Barton?" she growled as she roughly chunked his body back onto the pillow in utter disgust. He was such a child!

.

.

.

.

.

An hour later two assassins were sitting on a bench in front of a SHIELD Helicopter pad - one looked extremely content while the other had a rather annoyed expression on her face.

"I can't _believe_ you did that," she grumbled beside him as they waited for extraction to arrive any minute now. They were alone mostly - but they knew the Italian SHIELD base team was around doing their business in the building so they kept it light.

"It was fun," he said cheekily. She shot him a look of disbelief.

"How is passing out _fun_ Barton?" she growled at him. He was so freaking weird! He simply shrugged and flashed her a cheeky grin.

"Because it meant for once you got to catch me Tasha," he said calmly. She froze as she replayed his words in her head - he did _not_ just say that.

"So fucking cheesy," she muttered under her breath. His honest thoughts were _way_ too damn cheesy. He snorted.

"I am the king of cheese - _nice_," he said with a chuckle. She glared at him.

"You should be the king of dramaville too," she grumbled. He gave her a measured look.

"Then you should be the queen of denialville," he shot back easily. She glowered at him.

"Shut up before I struggle you Barton - trust me you will _not_ wake up," she said threateningly. He simply raised an eyebrow and searched her eyes.

"You liked it," he said simply. She sputtered in disbelief.

"Are you _stupid_? I did not!" she shouted in disgust. He snickered at her explosive reaction.

"You probably held me and everything!" he teased. Natasha clenched her jaw and was literally about to choke her partner to death before they even had a _chance_ to figure out what the hell they were.

"Ugh! I _hate_ you Barton!" she shrieked before she crossed her arms and promptly turned away from him. She narrows her eyes as she glared at the ground and listened to his light laugh.

"Me too Tasha," he said happily. She scowled at the floor and refused to acknowledge the fact that he knew her too way.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

16 hours later after one long and boring trip across the Atlantic two SHIELD agents were dead tired and ready to just crash in their own apartment, in their own beds, with their own pillows to cushion the nightmares they hope don't haunt them the entire night.

Too bad annoying handlers were on their ass the moment they landed. They walked off the plane and instantly got a face full of agent Coulson standing in their way of them and freedom from SHIELD for at _least_ a day.

"You two look exhausted and..._weird_ - what the heck happened?" Coulson asked slowly as he crossed his arms and gave both a cautious look. Neither of them reacted to his accusations because Coulson _always_ thought they were weird. They didn't really worry about Coulson - the man let Barton have a relationship with a 9 year old for crying out loud. Clint gave his long-time handler a dry look.

"We did a mission Coulson. Riviera is dead and you probably already met Conroy. Now let us _go_," Clint said calmly but firmly. Coulson ignored his tone and furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Was she that hard of a target?" he asked carefully reading Barton's rather tired face. Natasha chose to step into the conversation now and divert Coulson's attention to her.

"Someone else's assassination attempt took place at the same time Coulson - it was utter madness," Natasha said picking up her mission pack and swinging it over her shoulder. She picked up her partner's as well and handed it to him. Coulson made a face - an unimpressed face. Well that was good and normal.

"Damn only you two have the luck where at least 3 assassinations were trying to be made at the same damn party! Who died?" Coulson asked shaking his head in disbelief. Clint sighed.

"You can read our report later you know Coulson," Clint said gruffly as he waited for their handler to finish his little debrief and analysis of his agents. Coulson gave him a warning look.

"Reading a report and hearing it directly from your mouths are two entirely different things," Coulson said carefully scanning their faces. Now that made them a tiny bit more wary - they knew Coulson was sharp and much smarter then he made himself appear.

"We promise to write a really good one?" Clint tried feebly. Coulson gave him a blank look.

"Your reports are _shit_ Barton - and _you're_ the one whose first language is English. I know when you make Romanoff write your mission reports - they are a one _hundred_ times better," Coulson said with a withering glare. Clint and Natasha shared a wary look - busted. Clint flashed Coulson a cheeky grin while Natasha snorted beside him.

"How about I promise to write the report for this specific mission then Coulson? Barton looks like he is going to pass out. Apparently he even _likes_ passing out," she said dryly. She felt him tense slightly beside her and smirked internally. Oh yeah this was going to be fun.

"Who the _hell_ likes passing out Romanoff - are you crazy?" he asked with a convincing scowl. She paused. He was a good liar – she would have been more wary if she didn't see him every single day of the week. She would have been more suspicious about his feelings if he didn't bug her about them every single damn day. You can't lie for _every_ second of the day.

"Yeah what city are _they_ from again? Starts with the letter D right?" she said giving him a long look. He shot her a dirty look in return. Coulson watched the back and forth banter with bored eyes.

"You two bicker like an old married couple - seesh," Coulson muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Clint and Natasha both snorted.

"Coulson you bicker with _everyone_," they shot back in unison. He raised his hands in surrender and gave them a dry look.

"Alright. Alright. You guys can leave. Cranky agents," he muttered waving his hand towards the exit. Clint raised a wary eyebrow.

"We'll see you tomorrow Coulson. Mission report and all - I'll even help her write it," Clint said cheekily as he headed towards the exit down the hall. Coulson raised an eyebrow as Natasha scoffed at her partner.

"You're such a liar - you're going to do _shit_," she muttered as she walked behind him. Clint chuckled but didn't deny her accusation. They were almost free when Coulson's voice suddenly stopped them.

"Oh and one more thing agents?" Coulson called from behind them. They both paused in their step. Damn and they were almost out of the clear too.

"Yes oh mighty handler?" Clint said dryly as they turned around to give him one last long suffering look but froze when they saw the _dead_ serious expression on his face. _Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit._ Coulson narrowed his eyes and they both tensed as they stared back at their handler's calculative gaze with serious alarm. Oh _fuck_. How the fuck did he _know_?

"_Don't_ get caught," Coulson said warningly before he spun around and swiftly stalked away. As _if_ he couldn't read the change in the air around them. It was practically suffocating him how relaxed they both appeared after months of utter unbearable tension. They nearly _revolved_ around each other. He knew this was coming for a long time. He knew there was nothing he could do short of breaking their partnership to stop it. He knew they were beyond compromised. They better not fuck this up or he was going to get on their ass so fast their heads were going to spin.

"_Tasha_," Clint said tensely still staring at his handler with careful eyes. She shook her head and turned back towards the exit.

"Let's go Barton," Natasha said quietly walking passed him and out of the building. He finally tore his eyes away from Coulson's retreating form and followed after his partner who meant _everything_ to him.

That was way too damn close. They needed to be better. They needed to be flawless. No one else could know.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: HAHA! I think Coulson is still a better agent then them – though they are catching up. I never said it was going to get any easier. In reality their lives just got harder. The question they have to answer is that is it worth it? And how much are they willing to give up for each other? And where do they draw the lines in their uncharted relationship? Expect arguments – I love Clintasha arguments (make up scene is even better). **

**You know sometimes I wonder why I write assassins so well when I've never watched an assassin type movie or read a book like that in my life. Nor have I ever really liked assassin stories in general…it's just Clintasha in Avengers I really liked. I've watched action movies and I love action…but damn this story sort of literally plans out like a movie in my head and I when I have the time I just type it out. Writer's block would be a scary thought! O.O The day the movie freezes O.O oh dear! **

**Anyway, OFF TO DO CHEMISTRY! (hahaha and afterwards I can do Clintasha chemistry because you've waited 51 chapters to read this part of the story LOL) **


	53. Chapter 53

**I dare you **

**A/N: lalala. Stressed Clintasha. Fun. '**_**Forbidden'**_** romance – even more fun. Badass assassins who are going to try to lie their ass off and pretend they are just partners to the world – EVEN MORE FUN. HA! While they fight on the side too. **

**Chapter 53**

Clint easily kept pace with his briskly walking partner as she stalked into their building and towards the stairs that would lead them up to their apartment. Really this shitty flat had become the one place they could call theirs and the one place that had nothing to do with missions or work in general. It was a piece of shit on the shady side of town – but it was theirs. If you found a good apartment that wasn't about to fall through the floor in New York you were a luck bastard.

Clint warily glanced at his silent partner who hadn't said a word the entire ride home. She had a tense look on her face and he knew there were a million different thoughts flashing through her sharp mind as she dissected their situation and came up with likely progressively more disturbing conclusions as well. She was a brilliant agent and a brilliant spy in general. But sometimes he thinks she overanalyzed things – she was very detail oriented and up close and personal with all the problems in their lives.

However personally he liked to take a step back and see the whole picture before he made any decisions. He was a sniper through and though – he didn't particularly like close up fighting. He preferred to have a lot of distance between him and most of his targets – lately though a lot of their missions have been starting to shift towards Natasha's fighting style and her field specialties. He wondered how much of that was SHIELD and how much of it might just be the world changing around them. He was a multiskilled agent and highly adaptable. He could fight hand to hand combat and wield shot guns as well as Natasha could snipe – but he had preferences.

She was one of those preferences. They were under a lot of stress right now – but he was still happy she said yes. He was even _more_ happy when she didn't back out because of the shit they were about to get hit with – at least not yet. She didn't flat out reject him after things started getting risky – it spoke volumes of how much she actually felt for him. He finally decided to break the silence that fell over them as they approached their floor.

"What are you thinking about Tasha?" he asked quietly as he shoved his hands in his pockets and gave her a calm look. She tensed but he knew it was more from their situation than him getting on her nerves.

"How did he know Barton? We didn't even do anything. How was it so obvious?" Natasha asked carefully and she clenched her hands into fists. He gave her a wary look. Oh boy. She was trying to dissect Coulson – that never worked well for anyone. He had known Coulson for 5 years and the man was still a mystery in some ways to him.

"That's that thing - it's _not_ obvious Tasha," he said slowly. She angrily clenched her jaw.

"And yet he still _knew_. He doesn't know me at all Barton – there is nothing we did out of the ordinary," she said frustrated that someone had managed to see something she didn't want them to see. It bugged her. She was supposed to be one of the best liars in the world damn it! Clint could feel the agitation rise in her and finally sighed.

"It's not you he was reading Tasha – it was me," Clint said quietly. She tensed beside him but kept walking.

"What do you mean?" she asked carefully. He glanced away from her cautious gaze.

"He's known me for a long time. He's seen me at my absolute worst Tasha. He knows me like the back of his hand – it annoyed the shit out of me but for a long time there was no one else who knew me that well. I only met you this year Tasha. I told you I was alone before then. I was grateful to have a sort of friend like him. It's kind of hard to be friends with your boss though," he muttered offhandedly. He didn't really have a social life back then – he _still_ doesn't. But if he had her he didn't really care.

"What are you trying to say Barton?" she asked slowly. He took a deep breath and gave her a weak smile.

"It's not really hard to see that I'm happier right now then I have ever been in my entire stint at SHIELD Tasha. It really doesn't take a genius to see that you make me happy," he said calmly. He watched her visibly freeze in her step for almost half a millisecond before she continued down the hall like nothing happened. But he noticed the difference. She was more than a little taken aback by his words. He didn't think many people were ever as honest with her as he tended to be. He doubted she spent much time with honest people in general.

"Tone down the damn happy then Barton," she grumbled. He snorted.

"Give me some time Tasha - it's been less than 48 hours since you finally stopped being a stubborn Russian. I'm still kind of in shock," he said warily. She stopped in front of their door and stared at it for a moment.

"We can't afford to be sloppy Barton. We don't have the luxury," she said quietly before she used her key to open the door and walk inside. He followed her into their rarely used kitchen and watched her dump her pack of all their equipment onto the table.

"What do you want to do Tasha?" he asked softly as he stood behind her. She threw their keys onto the table as well and slowly turned around to face him and his softened expression. He was different outside of the field. She gave him a searching look and decided that wasn't quite true. He was just different around her.

"I don't know yet. But right now I'm going to take a shower – I still feel like I'm covered in salt," she said scrunching up her nose in distaste. It was a disgusting feeling she couldn't stand. That and the fact that she smelled way too much like _him_. She can't smell like him before they head back to SHIELD tomorrow. It didn't _matter_ whether she liked it or not. She ignored the stupid voice in the back of her head that asked her if she did. Stupid voices.

"Oh can I join you?" he asked suggestively wagging his eyebrows at her. She shot him the dirtiest look she has ever shot a man in her _life_. He felt the sheer annoyance nearly slam into his face like wall and laughed as he shook his head.

"I'm kidding Tasha!" he exclaimed as she continued to glare daggers at him. She scoffed.

"_Men_," she grumbled before she spun around and stalked off to her room. He watched her go and furrowed his brow when he saw her sway her hips almost provocatively as she left. His mouth nearly hit the floor when she shot a mischievous smirk over her shoulder. That was _so_ not by accident.

"Oh that is just cruel Tasha!" he shouted after her. He heard her snicker as she disappeared into her room. He shook his head at his partner's spontaneous playfulness. Her hot and cold attitude really gave him whiplash sometimes. Now that she was gone he felt the post-mission exhaustion hit him like a bag of bricks. He decided he was tired enough that he seriously considered crashing on his bed and take a short nap before they had to figure out what the hell they were going to do tomorrow.

That and he also didn't want to write that damn mission report. If he was sleeping she couldn't force him to help her. He smirked to himself as he headed to his room.

Take that Romanoff! Payback for all the damn teasing. Just because he liked her didn't mean he wouldn't run for the hills when the damn paperwork came.

He wasn't _that_ nice.

.

.

.

.

.

An hour later Natasha was sitting crossed legged on a chair at their kitchen table while typing on a small white laptop. Her hair was still damp from her shower and she had tied it up into a loose pony tail to keep it out of her eyes. She knew Barton was avoiding her right now because he didn't want to do the stupid boring report. Lazy bastard.

She narrowed her eyes as she continued to type out her _special_ version of how they assassinated Amelia Riviera. Damn she wished she actually shot the little piece of shit. That girl was so stupid for getting tangled up in the mess she left behind when she ditched the Red Room. She was even more on edge about her because she knew who her trainer most likely was. Oh yeah she wasn't going to bring Barnes up for a while. She really didn't want to deal with the raging jealous questions he would have.

Mostly because he really didn't want to hear her answers. Also because she didn't particularly want to give them. Or even think about them. She suddenly noticed she was almost slamming her fingers down on her keys and told herself to get a grip. She quickly drained the simmering anger out of her body to deal with later. She really hated James Barnes. She would really like to take one of his own knives and stab him a few times. Just a few. Maybe give him a concussion by slamming his head into a wall.

She wasn't smirking sadistically at all.

She suddenly heard suspicious shuffling somewhere behind her and paused without turning around. She didn't stop typing though. She was unarmed but she didn't need a gun to disable an opponent - she could do enough damage with just her fists but if it was someone from the outside she would've heard the squeak she made sure was clearly audible in all the windows and the door to their apartment. She never told Barton but she kinda of screwed up some of the entrances herself.

So maybe she was paranoid - so what? It was well founded.

"_Boo_," a deep voice still slightly rough with sleep whispered in her ear and suddenly she felt strong warm arms snake over her shoulders as rough lips brushed against the water softened skin of her cheek. She didn't visibly react at all simply because he was being stupid. Imagine what she would do to the idiot if she didn't know it was him.

"You know you really shouldn't sneak up on me unless you want a broken jaw Barton," she said calmly ignoring her partner who was dangerously invading her personal space at the moment. If he was anyone else he would be nursing a bloody face right about now. He _still_ might end up with a bloody face if his hands ghosting over her collar bone dipped lower for even a _second_. She felt him snort softly against her cheek as he trailed soft kisses down her face and along her neck. She had to use every single last drop of her self-control to keep typing – it was only years of perfecting the art of removing her sharp mind from what her body was feeling at the moment that allowed her to actually think about what the _hell_ she was writing. Who the fuck wouldn't find Clint Barton worshiping their skin with his mouth distracting?

She had mad skills apparently.

"You knew it was me otherwise I _would_ have a broken jaw Tasha," he mumbled against the base of her neck as he nuzzled her skin. Her right eye totally didn't twitch. Definitely not. She would shoot the first person who said it did.

"That's not the point," she said carefully keeping her voice crisp and unfazed. He didn't react or even stop what he was doing. It bugged her that he could keep going even when she seriously wasn't responding. Sometimes she wondered how he was attracted to her naturally cool attitude.

"I don't think you _have_ a point," he said calmly before he brush his nose against the collar of her T-shirt and caused the loose fabric to fall off her shoulder and reveal even _more_ skin. Well shit. He brushed his lips against her bare shoulder and she nearly froze in shock as she tried to comprehend what he just did. Holy shit he _licked_ her. She started to feel her control start to waver and quickly steeled her resolve. She was _not_ going to crack. Hundreds of men have tried to seriously seduce her throughout her whole life. Innocent affection should _not_ feel like this damn it. No one ever made her feel like this. Then again she never particularly had any good feelings towards any of the disgusting men she's encountered in her life. He was a first for a lot of things. However she _really_ needed him to stop – for her sanity. And possibly her dignity.

"Barton - let _go_," she said firmly as she _still_ continued to type. It was miracle she was making any sense whatsoever. She highly doubted it was coming out right but he didn't need to know that. He obviously did the exact opposite of what she ordered – bastard held her even harder against his chest.

"_Why_?" he breathed against her ear. She narrowed her eyes.

"Because I'm working," she said steadily. _Lies – _she was writing crap now. She felt him laugh against her skin and tensed as the deep vibrations in his body traveled through her own. She never got used to feeling his laughter. It always did weird shit to her stomach.

"You can work _later_," he whispered sounding _exactly_ like that naughty voice at the back of your head that told you it was okay to eat a lot of chocolate before dinner and that your mom wouldn't catch you.

Yeah that dinner never ends well. This wasn't going to end well either.

"You're a really terrible seducer," she said evenly without slowing her fast typing speed. That was the biggest lie she ever said in her _life_. Of course she was never going to tell _him_ that. He paused in his apparently failing attempts to rouse a reaction out of his brilliant partner. His face fell slightly. She was good. She was _really_ good. He almost felt slightly hurt that she could ignore his advances so well until he gently felt her pulse at her neck and was shocked when he felt it _racing_. He inhaled sharply. She was practically going to have a heart attack if her heart pumped any faster. It was amazing how she could keep everything she was feeling off her face when inside she was affected by him just as much as he was affected by her. She didn't say anything when she heard him sigh softly in relief. He was a child for needing that much reassurance. She let it go because they barely just got together less than 48 hours ago.

"I think you're lying Tasha," he chuckled as he loosely tugged her shirt back over her shoulder as it was dangerously starting to reveal way too much. She scanned over the shit she wrote in the middle of her report and decided she would fix the crap section later and continued writing properly now that he had stop his distracting shenanigans for a moment – she wasn't going to let him start again.

"We have our meeting with Fury tomorrow," she said steadily and effectively put an end his little games. Clint groaned and dropped his head onto her shoulder.

"Why are you bringing pirate asshole between us Tasha?" he complained. Her eyes steeled.

"Because if you don't want to smell like me all day tomorrow and risk getting fired day one of whatever this is between us you are going to let go of me right now and step away," she said evenly. He paused as he seriously considered her words. Damn it she was _right_. He reluctantly _finally_ released his hold on her and pulled away. She ignored that fact that she felt the absence of his warm body as cool air to brush against her skin and caused her to feel slightly chilly. She was not a child. She didn't need that type of affection from him. She adamantly ignored the stupid voice at the back of her head that told her she was always lying to herself when it came to him.

"You think too much," he mumbled as he took a seat beside her and buried his head in his arms as he leaned against the table.

"I think enough so that we don't screw ourselves over," she said calmly. He snorted.

"I think I liked you better in denial," he muttered childishly. She _finally_ stopped typing and stared at her blinking screen with an eerie calmness that made his skin crawl. He thinks he just royally pissed her off - the icy cold pissed though. He doesn't see that very often. Usually she is heatedly pissed. This was a bit more scary.

"Really?" she asked with absolutely no inflection in her voice. It was just dead flat. Almost threatening. He quickly shook his head.

"No I'm lying. Don't even get me started how much I hated that fact that you were always pushing me away Tasha. _Never_ let yourself think that I wanted that," he said firmly. She shot him a sharp look.

"Don't lie about stuff like that then Barton. Understand that I don't do stuff like this. I don't take useless risks like this for no reason. I do not create damn liabilities just because it's _fun_ Barton," she said steadily. His face suddenly darkened.

"I understand Tasha. I understand completely," he said being serious for a moment. She locked eyes with him and for once he ignore how they made him feel slightly breathless and focused on what _she_ was actually feeling - she was worried in her own unique way. He knew that – it still bugged him a little that she was acting like he didn't know how many risks they were taking.

"Don't be careless then Barton. I still want this partnership - it's why I didn't let you just shoot me and be done with it all in the first place. It's what I wanted before all of this. I really don't want to work for the CIA. I really don't want to keep jumping organizations just because we can't keep our shit together and be _professionals_," she said through gritted teeth. He instantly tensed.

"I can be professional Natasha," he said heatedly. She gave him a cold look.

"Sometimes I doubt that," she said carefully. He narrowed his eyes.

"Just because I like you doesn't mean you can push me around Natasha," he said warningly. She glared at him.

"I don't push you around Barton. I never treat you anything more or less than an equal. You really just piss me off sometimes when you can't talk to me seriously," she growled. He scoffed.

"Why should I have to be serious all the time Natasha? I'm serious when it matters – right now we're between missions and it's just you and me. We don't have to be on guard all the time Tasha," he said starting to feel like they weren't on the same page anymore. Especially when she suddenly banged her fist against the table and furiously shook her head.

"I'm not _like_ you," she said heatedly. He leaned back away from the table and gave her a careful look.

"I never said you were like me Tasha. If I wanted someone like me believe me I would never have pushed for this. I _like_ the fact that you are different - but you need to _calm_ the fuck down and realize that if this is ever going to work, if we are ever going to work you need to be able to forget that they are risks every time we're together. Just ignore the fact that it's against regulation and enjoy it Tasha," he said quietly as he slowly shut her laptop screen in front of her and firmly dragged her chair towards him. She gave him a warning look as he brushed his hands along her arms, over her shoulder and up to cup her cheeks between his hands.

"Barton…" she said cautiously. He gave her a pointed look.

"It's Clint when we're alone Tasha," he whispered firmly. He felt her tense against his rough palms.

"Clint…" she started again but he shook his head.

"I'll take a shower later – I'll take one _hundred_ showers before we leave tomorrow. But right now I'm going to kiss you and you are going to forget your own name," he said with dark promise. He promptly tugged her face towards his and slammed his lips down on hers before she could voice any more of her annoying protestations. He felt her mumble something along the line of _needy bastard_ and rolled his eyes before he reach done to brush his fingers under the edge of her shirt to shut her up. He felt her freeze in the kiss and used her momentary shock to push her back against her chair and coaxed her mouth open to deepen the kiss. She held onto the table beside them as he continued to kiss her like he wanted to mold them together until they were one with each other. He smiled slightly when he felt her _finally_ give up trying to avoid him and actively kissed him back. It wasn't like she was trying too hard anymore.

She always felt a bit lightheaded when he kissed her – not just because he was a rather good kisser (which made her suspicious about _how_ he acquired that skill in the first place) but because he always kissed her with this baseline of unrestrained passion. She's always seen him as a highly disciplined and controlled type of person – at least under all the fake cheeriness and sarcasm he always liked to wear like a buffer between him and the rest of the world. He actually got _really_ edgy when he felt like he was losing control of himself or the situation around him. Missions were usually fast and in the moment no one has a lot of time to think about anything except your next move. But during those agonizing moments when there was nothing you could do except watch as your control slips away from you – those are the moments when she feels like he is very close to actually losing his mind. Which is why she is surprised when he actually let's that piece of him rest when it's just them. He had a _few_ control issues – she knew she had a lot more though. She just could never relax the way he could.

She felt him slowly run his warm hands down her arms and up her sides just because he wanted to feel her. He even gently dragged his hands down past her waist and ghosted over her crossed legged thighs that were currently resting against his knees - but he did nothing else except the soft almost hesitant touching and she sighed softly in pleasure because it felt really nice for once not too have to worry about whether the man she was kissing was going to be an asshole and try to take things farther then she was willing to go. Not that she was prude – far from it.

She was taught from an early age that sex was a weapon. She was forced to use it as a weapon too. She was used and thrown away more times then she can count and she was tired of all the meaningless encounters she's had over the years. She was tired of assignments where she was objectified beyond reason. She was tired of only being valued by what she looked like. Sometimes she thinks her natural complexion was what doomed her. Sometimes she thinks the reason she got pulled into the illegal black ops portion of Russian Intelligence was _because_ she was considered attractive.

But after years and years of seeing so many women _and_ men who the world considered attractive turn out to have no sense of decency and utterly lack _humanity_ she always approached them with serious caution. Not _every_ beautiful person out there was a stuck up bastard – but a good number of them were. That being said not all average looking people had amazing personalities to balance out their apparent '_social disadvantage'_. Some people were just all around unpleasant people. She's been conditioned by life to be wary of people in general. She just didn't _like_ people. She liked being alone. She got used to being alone. For her own safety she had to be alone. But then he literally fell into her life and slowly changed that. She still thought humankind in general was going down the drain but he taught her that there were exceptions. She's met other people besides her partner she can actually _stand_.

He suddenly leaned into her a bit too much and when she abruptly let go of the table to reach up and bury her hands in his hair she didn't realized she was the only thing keeping both their weights balanced. Before he could stop them they promptly toppled the chair she was sitting on and crashed to the floor roughly breaking the kiss on impact. The chair slid away from them as they slammed into each other as Natasha hit the floor and he fell on top of her with a loud _oomph_!

"_Fuck_! Clint get off me that freaking _hurts_!" Natasha growled as she roughly shoved him away from her and gasped in deep breaths of air. He rolled off of her and groaned as he held his stomach in pain.

"You and me both Tasha – you completely kneed me in the gut," he wheezed trying to blink the water out of his eyes. She pushed herself into a sitting position and irritably rubbed the back of her head – she had hit the tile floor _hard_. She shot him a dirty look as he took a few calming breaths and sat up as well.

"Make sure you're not trying to defy gravity the next time you want to be smooth and kiss me to win an argument Clint," she muttered as she pushed herself off the floor and stood up. She glanced around at the mess of papers that flew everywhere in their fall and sighed. She turned around and held out her hand to her scowling partner still sitting on the floor rubbing his shoulder.

"You're the one who let go of the damn table," he grumbled as he took her hand and let her easily drag him to his feet. She raised an eyebrow as they came to eye level a bit closer than normally people would get during a conversation.

"Why should I be the one who has to support both our weight? I thought that was supposed to be _your_ job?" she asked dryly. He grumbled something about _never_ trusting her to keep them safe during kissing ever again and she snorted. He suddenly rested his arms loosely over her shoulders and flashed her a devious grin.

"Did I make you forget your name at least before our fall of doom?" he asked cheekily. She rolled her eyes.

"No," she said frankly. He pouted.

"Not even make it fuzzy?" he tried to grasp for straws. She gave him a dry look.

"Go take that shower Clint – it's one am and we have hell to walk through tomorrow morning," she said slipping out of his arms and turning to walk towards her room. She felt strong arms snake around her waist and drag her back against a firm toned chest. She inhaled sharply when she felt his hands ghost over her stomach and lightly brush the edge of her shirt like earlier. He buried his face her neck and she sighed in clear exhaustion as she felt him breath steady puffed of air against her cool skin.

"We're going to make it work Tasha," he whispered determinedly. Her eyes dulled slightly as she quietly stared at the wall across the room with Clint Barton wrapped around her body. She never thought they would get this far – she didn't even know how long it was going to last. She was silent for a few moments before she finally took a steady breath.

"That's what you _want_ Clint – it's not always what happens," she whispered. She felt him firmly shake his head and hold her tighter against his firm body.

"I told you we were going to be the best Tasha. It doesn't matter what we do on our own time. We're going to walk into SHIELD tomorrow morning as the most _professional_ badass team they've ever seen and no one is going to question our partnership or its efficiency. I'll shoot an arrow through their eye if anyone even _breathes_ the word compromised," he growled in a deep voice with promise in her ear. She smiled softly at the bite in his tone.

"Compromised eh?" she said quietly. She felt him groan into her shoulder as he leaned against her back.

"I _hate_ the word compromised. It's not even true – we can still be good partners on missions and whatever the _hell_ we want to be between missions. We can still be Hawkeye and Black Widow – but why can't we be Clint and Natasha too?" he whispered with honest hope in his voice. She sighed.

"Maybe we can. I don't know Clint. We can _try_," she said tiredly. She really didn't want to get her hopes up when everything could come crashing down so easily. That was one of the reasons she ignored him for so long. He was silent for several moments and she got lost in her worrying predictions.

"I can feel you thinking too hard again," he whispered quietly.

"I never stop thinking," she said with a sigh. He paused before he finally spun her around in his arm and firmly searched her eyes for any serious regrets – he was happy when he found none.

"You should try it – it's fun not to think about anything once in a while," he said with a small smile. She gave him a cautious look.

"If we make it through tomorrow Clint I'll think about it," she said carefully. He brushed a strand of red hair that had escaped her pony tail out of her face and curled behind her ear.

"Good. Because I know we're going to make it through tomorrow," he said firmly. Now she just looked wary.

"Why – because you believe in luck?" she asked slowly. He lightly shook his head.

"No – because I believe in _us_," he said firmly. She felt her blood pressure spike – holy shit he was going to kill her with his unexpected words one day.

Cheesy bastard.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: I think she actually **_**likes**_** his cheese. I like his cheese – some of it makes me laugh. Hahaha. Now how evil am I? Well actually I was pretty nice in this chapter. But how on earth are they going to fool Fury of all people? **

**Interesting. Very interesting. **

**Oh and do you guys **_**like**_** Clintasha together, **_**together**_**? Or at least my version of '**_**together'**_**. I didn't change their personalities – I refuse to - but some of those barriers are gone – not all of them though. Do you like that she is not technically pushing him away – even though she still kind of does anyway due to her personality, but hey he actually gest to **_**try**_** and seduce her – most men would already be dead at that point. He is allowed to repeatedly try and fail. LOL. And it's also really fun to see that he's not a pushover and that he can beat down her iciness fairly well. I don't think Natasha would like a pushover anyway. hehe :) **

**Oh anything you want them to do before my next super crazy relationship screwing mission? (I'm thinking Asia is calling them) **

**Oh. And Budapest is coming fast. Just FYI. ) **


	54. Chapter 54

**I dare you **

**A/N: Wanna learn some interesting things about their separate pasts? Also I never said it was getting any easier. **

**Another awesome Clintasha song **

**"One and Only" – by Adele**

"_You've been on my mind  
I grow fonder every day,  
Lose myself in time  
Just thinking of your face  
God only knows  
Why it's taken me so long  
To let my doubts go  
You're the only one that I want_

I don't know why I'm scared, I've been here before  
Every feeling, every word, I've imagined it all,  
You never know if you never try  
To forgive your past and simply be mine

_**I dare you**__ to let me be your, your one and only  
Promise I'm worthy to hold in your arms  
So come on and give me the chance  
To prove that I'm the one who can  
Walk that mile until the end starts,"_

**Chapter 54**

Natasha had been awake most of the night as she stared up at her dark ceiling trying to get her busy mind to shut down for just a few hours – it was harder to do then she would like. She never got more than a few hours of sleep a week – she knew that it was going to catch up with her the day her repressors stopped dulling the effects insomnia should have on her. A lot of things would go wrong the day her repressors stopped working – she's seen it happen to other girls in the program. It wasn't pretty. It was downright agony to watch them relapse into every painful experience that was previously dulled by the drug. Most girls killed themselves before they got through the withdrawal phase. The girls that managed to live through it were never the same afterwards. The good thing was that they were semi-permanent – she didn't need any more doses after she hit 20 – but that didn't mean there weren't nullifiers out there that could neutralize the drug. One of the main reasons she hated hospitals – she didn't know what chemical the nullifiers could be. They never told them. She didn't want to find out on accident.

She didn't know when exactly she finally managed to fall into an uneasy state of unconsciousness – but she thinks it was around the time she started contemplating the exact shade of deep blue her partner's eyes were– that was when she knew she was _beyond_ mentally exhausted. Natasha Romanoff didn't daydream about men. That was just unheard of.

Then again she never expected to one day return a man's affections either – and look where she was today. If only the Red Room could see her now - they would drop dead from the horror. Their best asset not only switched sides and become partners with her own former assassinator – she let him talk her into something she swore she would never let happen. She was breaking her own personal laws right now and she didn't know how she felt about that at the moment. However she knew she had finally reached the point of utter exhaustion when she really _couldn't_ think any more.

The next thing she consciously knew there was a hand lightly making contract with her shoulder. She acted on sheer impulse as she burst into a whirlwind of action. She firmly gripped the knife she always kept under her pillow and sharply spun around to roughly knock her assailant onto their back and dropped down on top of them to roughly pin their body to her bed. As she effectively immobilized her opponent she managed to get her knife dangerously close to their throat – second away from ending their life.

She gritted her teeth as she glared threateningly down at calm blue eyes that haunted her nightmares when she _did_ actually managed to dream – they were always nightmares though. She let her threatening grip on her knife loosen when she finally recognized the man she had viciously pinned beneath her iron hold. No wonder she had felt absolutely _no_ resistance through the entire scuffle – it had been _him_. Things would have been a lot more awkward if she wasn't still technically half asleep – sure she could disable practically any opponent even in this state – but that didn't mean she wouldn't go right back to sleep after they were dead.

"Fuck Barton why do you keep _doing_ that?" she grumbled as she carelessly threw her knife onto the end of her bed and rolled off of him to collapse back onto her pillow. She really didn't want to deal with him and his crazy morning chatter before she had to – but she knew he would never leave her in peace now that she was awake. She didn't hear him move from the place she had pinned him to on her bed and furrowed her brow when she heard him inhale slowly.

"To see you do that," he whispered unexpectedly. She paused as she lay face down on her pillow – she didn't actually expect an answer to her rhetorical question. He always chose to answer them though.

"Do _what_?" she mumbled half-heartedly into the cushion that was suffocating her face.

"Drop whatever weapon you have when you realize it's me and let your guard down slightly," he said still in a whisper. She finally lifted her head off the pillow and shot him a quizzing look.

"Are you being weird again Barton?" she asked cautiously. He shot her a small smile.

"Depends on your definition of weird Tasha," he said softly. She stared at the odd expression in his face for a few minutes before she muttered her reply.

"I don't even know what to consider weird anymore. You're just _bizarre_ sometimes," she muttered. He gave her a wary look.

"I think I liked weird better," he said dryly. She snorted.

"Weird doesn't cut it anymore – who the hell knowingly tries to startle a trained assassin in their sleep? Didn't you learn from the first time I nearly stabbed you in the stomach?" she asked in honest disbelief. He laughed as he shook his head.

"Yeah but I managed to stop you before you actually did any real damage then. I'm not a novice assassin myself. It would be rather difficult to be partners if you could accidentally kill me that easily Tasha," he said dryly. He felt the mood suddenly shift as he watched her tear her eyes away from him and stare holes into her bed. That had him slightly concerned.

"Barton…" she asked hesitantly. He paused as he watched a shadow cross her face and tensed slightly.

"What is it Tasha?" he asked carefully – he didn't think he would like what she was about to say. He saw her take a steady breath.

"Barton…am I like your adrenal rush or something? Is that why you want to be with me? Is that why I'm the only partner you ever had?" she asked sounding hollow and feeling empty as well.

Dead silence.

When he didn't respond after a few minutes she looked up to see what he was doing and found him staring at her looking utterly stunned. He didn't say a word as he simply stared at the honest accusations in her wary eyes and felt everything promptly freeze up and shut down inside of him. She _didn't_ just say that.

"Are you stupid?" he finally asked blankly. She gritted her teeth.

"I'm far from unintelligent Barton," she said cautiously. He shook his head slowly while still keeping eye contact with her.

"No, no I think you are because what just came out of your mouth really sounds like utter stupidity Tasha," he said still starting at her with a blank expression. He can't _believe_ she said that. He really, honestly can't believe she had enough doubt in her to say that.

"So you don't just get off on being around someone who is just as dangerous to your well being as your missions?" she asked quietly. He froze – well shit.

_That_ made him finally snap out of his momentary daze.

"No Tasha! No of course not! That's just a small part of it. Did you actually think…shit. God damn it are you crazy? Did I really give you _that_ much of a miscommunicated signal?" he asked still in shock as he tried to understand how on earth she came to that messed up conclusion. She shifted away from him as she sat up on her bed and wrapped her arms around her knees.

"You react weirdly to stupid things Barton – sometimes it's really hard to believe…it's hard to feel like…" she trailed off not being able to finish her sentence – but unfortunately he knew _exactly_ what she was trying to say now.

"- that I actually want you and don't have some other ulterior motive for doing this right?" he finished for her flatly. She nearly winced from the emotionless way he spat out his sentence. How was she not supposed to consider that? She was trained to figure out what motives drive all the people around her – she has still yet to find what really drove his own actions and it was slightly driving her insane. He watched the internal conflict rage in her eyes and sighed before he sat up as well and kneeled beside her tense form. He reached out to gently place his hand against her cheek echoing the same gesture she showed him yesterday. God was it just yesterday this all started? He felt like they've already been through a lifetime together.

"Tasha – Tasha if I had some crazy motive for wanting this other then anything genuine, couldn't you have figured it out by now? I never said you didn't have a brilliant mind. If I wanted you just because you were pretty, or dangerous, or something unattainable wouldn't you be able to tell? Who can lie every second of every day Tasha?" he whispered utterly crestfallen that she could find it _this_ hard to believe his feelings were real. He felt her shake slightly under his palm and he knew she was trying to find the answers to his questions but the way her brain was wired wouldn't let her see the simple truth.

"I don't know," she whispered finally. His eyes softened as he watched the hesitation swirl in her eyes. Natasha was one of those people who couldn't accept an obvious answer – but simple was all he had to offer.

"You know why it doesn't matter how good you are in the field when it comes to stuff like this?" he asked gently rubbing his thumb against her cheek. She furrowed her brow in confusion and he answered his own question.

"You're still an idiot for thinking you can _ever_ understand us from a mission viewpoint," he whispered honestly. She viciously scowled at him.

Well what was she supposed to think after all the times he reacted weirdly to her threats or her anger or pretty much anything negative she throws at him? It wasn't normal – but then again it was way too damn early in the morning for this. Her alarm hadn't even gone off yet. She was tired damn it and he came barging in here waking her up at - she glanced at her blinking alarm clock sitting on her side table and instantly froze – it was 1 hour before their post-mission debrief. As in she only had one hour to figure out what the hell they were going to say to cover their semi-failed mission and the shit going on between them. She thinks she is going to stab something – or _someone_.

"HOLY SHIT BARTON!" she shouted as she whipped around to take a better look at her clock and nearly caused them both to fall off her bed in her hast.

"What? What's wrong?" he asked bewildered by her sudden shock and dropped his hand from her face.

"Why didn't my alarm go off an hour and a half ago?" she cried slamming her hand down on her stupid alarm and picking it up to see what the hell was wrong with it. And then she froze as she stared at the location of the little switch on the back of the clock. It was on the off side. She made sure to turn it on before she crashed last night. Her expression darkened as she heard him intake an uneasy breath.

"I sort of turned that off…" he said nervously. She continued to stare at her alarm clock with a blank look on her face.

"Why the hell would you do that?" she asked in an icy cold tone. He winced as he felt her rapidly stiffen as several walls went up. Damn it she was going to shut him out again. He gave her a firm look even as he watched her eyes flash dangerously.

"Because you haven't been sleeping again Tasha…" he said slowly, taking her seething anger in stride. He's been keeping an eye on her and her insomnia was getting worse. She suddenly slammed her clock down on the table and shot him a sharp look.

"That doesn't matter! That's _my_ problem Barton! I don't need you to baby me!" she growled. He narrowed his eyes at her unnecessary outburst.

"I don't baby you Natasha – I'm watching out for you. You're going to kill yourself if you don't take better care of your health," he said heatedly. She viciously shook her head and clenched her hands into fists.

"That is still my own personal problem damn it!" she shouted furiously. He gave her a careful look.

"No it's not Tasha," he said starting to get more than a little pissed at her overreaction. She looked like she truly wanted to strangle him.

"Yes it _is_," she hissed. He felt the annoyance start to creep up on him.

"No it's _not_. It's my job to make sure you're taking care of yourself because we're partners Natasha and we're-" he started to say but she panicked and shot forward to slam her hand against his mouth to muffle his words. He gave her a questioning look as she started to breathe faster and shook her head again.

"_No_! Don't say it like that. Damn it Barton don't treat me differently just because…just because," she cut herself off because she couldn't even say it herself. If she put labels on whatever this was it was going to be too real and she didn't think she could handle something like that. She growled in frustration and angrily looked away when she saw disappointment settle into his eyes. She was pushing him away again. She was trying to keep them somewhere between real and not real. He slowly reached up and pulled her hand away his mouth.

"How can I do that Tasha? How can I not treat you differently? How can you ask me to treat you like just any other agent when you're _not_ Tasha? You're never going to be like everyone else. Do you even _know_ what it meant to me when you said you would try whatever this was between us? Didn't you realize what you were agreeing to when you kissed me back Tasha?" he asked in a slightly strained voice. He watched her clench her jaw as she tried to gather her chaotic thoughts to answer him.

"I _know_ that Barton. I know all of that. I know what you wanted and I told you over and over again that I might not be able to give it to you!" she said angrily rubbing her hands over her face. He just never _listens_.

He sighed as he watched her slam her eyes shut and stop looking at him. He felt the annoyance drain away because he knew she wasn't actively trying to hurt him – that didn't mean it didn't hurt anyway though. He ignored his own wounded feelings for a moment and leaned forward to carefully wrap his arms around his rigid partner. He pulled her close until he had her pressed up against his chest and leaned his cheek against the top of her head. The only piece of hope he was hanging onto right now was the fact that she let him hold her and didn't pull away.

"You've never been in a relationship have you?" he finally asked quietly. He felt her tense in his arms as she inhaled sharply.

"No. No I haven't Barton. There are no such as _relationships_ where I came from. There is no such thing as people spending time together just for fun. Sure people slept together but that was just stress and release. People just _use_ each other Barton. Nobody sticks around after they get what they want. Nobody looks out for you when things go to shit. Nobody puts your life before their own. People were cruel, backstabbing and heartless. Affection, love and caring were just empty _lies_. People…people were just not like _you_ Barton. You make it really hard for me to think you're real. It's hard to think any of this is real. Because there definitely wasn't any of whatever this is," she said tiredly gesturing to the currently non-existent space between them. He tightened his grip around her waist as he silently listened to her talk about her past and started to feel angrier and angrier at the cold people who ripped her belief in humanity away from her and left her alone in a world surrounded by no warmth whatsoever. It was a miracle she even felt anything for him at all.

"The world is different on the other side Tasha," he whispered in her ear. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder and hid her eyes against his shirt.

"I only defected 9 months ago Barton. You can't expect me adjust that fast. Everything always happens too fast but I can't erase a nightmare that was 20 years long. There was nothing to believe in back then. There was nothing to prove that people actually had the capacity to overcome their hatred towards each other. There was no one to tell me there was more to life than just mindless violence. I lost track of weeks between assignments just because I just didn't know what to do with myself when there was no target. Coming out of something like that after so many years is like an electric shock to your system. It's hard to rewrite the rules you live your life by. It's hard to accept people like you actually exist. You confuse the shit out of me Barton. Half the time I don't even know what I'm _doing_," she whispered the damning truth. She knew how to act, she knew how to manipulate marks into feeling what she wanted them to feel, she knew how to twist the truth into exactly the way she wanted it to sound - she knew how to be everything that wasn't _real_. It was reality that was hard for her to grasp.

"Natasha you're not the only one who doesn't know what they're doing," he said quietly. He felt her laugh darkly against his shoulder.

"You have no idea what it's like to wake up and realize everything you knew was a lie and then spend the next 9 months trying to decide what is real and what is not. It's like my entire world was shattered and now I have to try and rebuild it with the fear that I might never get it right. I don't want to ever be blinded by lies like that again. I don't _ever_ want to lose touch with reality again," she said fervently as she tightly gripped the edge of his shirt and continued to breathe deeply. Clint stared at the wall behind her as he felt her words chip away at his heart and with every painful breath she took he felt like the air was being knocked out of his own lungs.

"I _do_ have an idea of how you feel Natasha. Maybe I don't have the same type of restricted and controlled childhood you did – but mine sure as hell wasn't pleasant and perfect. Do you want to know where _I_ grow up? It's not all in my general files you know. I know you've read them. Maybe my past military records are there – but do you know what my shit life was like _before_ I turned 17 and enlisted in the army? Do you know what type of hell I lived in before I traded one nightmare for another?" he asked quietly. He felt her tense in his arms and shake her head.

"No. You don't have to tell me Barton," she said carefully trying to pull away from him but he held her tighter against his body to stop her from leaving. She had to know eventually.

"No, I'm going to tell you whether you want to know or not. I grew up in a damn shitty mobile carnival show. I never went to school until the government tried to force me into high school – and even then I got kicked out on day 3 for misbehaviour. The one good thing that ever happened to me was that I got to learn archery in that hellhole. But even that landed me into loads of trouble. Being the best at something catches the eyes of the wrong people – I know you know that. It also causes the people who are supposed to look out for you to feel resentful and abandon you," he said quietly as he crushed her body to his and buried his face in her soft hair that smelled faintly like the standard floral shampoo she used. She was silent as she absorbed his words. He decided to continue.

"It's lonely at the top Tasha. Nobody wants to be around the best. I used to have a brother – a really _shitty_ asshole of a brother – but you already know the ending to that story don't you? I know you were too smart not to figure it out when I mentioned him a few months ago," he said closing his eyes and listening to her steady breath. Her only response was to grip his shirt tighter. She _did_ know – it wasn't hard to guess what happened.

"I tried everything to get him to like me Tasha. I tried everything to make him happy, to get him to say he was proud of me, to tell me he cared for me – but nothing worked Tasha. Nothing was ever enough. All I saw when I looked into his eyes was utter undeniable hatred. Who hates their little brother Tasha?" he asked sadly feeling his arms around her start to tremble and she slowly pulled back to give him an uneasy look.

"I don't know - I've never had a sibling Barton," she said reluctantly. He smiled weakly at her hesitancy and gently pressed his lips to her cheek relieving her of the need to relate to him. She just had to listen. One of the many things he liked about Natasha was that no matter how much she didn't understand or got annoyed at his never-ending chatter – she was always listening. After years of being ignored to finally find someone who could just sit silently and listen to him was like an invaluable gift.

"It's okay. All I wanted was for us to be brothers – real brothers. The kind that always looked out for each other. But then he got older and he wasn't a child anymore. He started drinking and gambling and getting into trouble with gangs and had fights every other night. I was bailing him out of jail more times than I could keep track of. He was violent when he was completely wasted. I wasn't weak - I could handle anything he threw at me. But then one day he had me shoved up against a wall in a bar I had tracked him down in. It was hard to breath with his arm crushing my airway. I was starting to see black spots and losing consciousness fast. There was a half empty bottle of whiskey beside me and I didn't know what I was doing and-" he whispered shakily as he started to see half blurry memories flash across his eyes. He lost sight of his partner for a moment and got dragged into his past from 7 years ago. She immediately noticed the familiar glazed look he was wearing.

"Stop. Stop Clint you don't have to tell me," she said quietly reaching up to cover his mouth before he started saying something that might trigger another break down. He laughed darkly against her hand and it sent icy shivers down her spine. He felt the sharp hurt he was ignoring for the past 20 minutes suddenly flood his body.

"Why not Tasha? Don't you want to know that my past was just as bad as yours? Don't you want to know that you're not the only screwed up person in the world? Don't you want to know how broken I am? That I'm not perfect? That I doomed myself from the moment I lost the only family I had in the entire world? I'm an assassin Natasha – but don't you want to know that I'm one of the most screwed up killers in the world? That the first person I ever killed - was my own _brother_?" he asked damningly. His disturbing admission was immediately followed by deafening silence. Natasha couldn't even hold back the flinch even if she wanted to. He wasn't usually this cold and merciless with his words – but the way she had completely tried to reason away his genuine feelings really stabbed him in the chest. There aren't many harsh things she can say that really got to him – but that did.

"Isn't that what you wanted Natasha?" he asked shaking her slightly in front of him. She let him shake her until she was slightly dizzy but she found it in her to shake her head and refute his accusations.

"No. No I never wanted that. I didn't want you to have a past as horrible as mine," she whispered in a lost voice. He hid his eyes behind his bangs and took a shaky breath as he held her by the forearms several inches away from him.

"You say you don't know how to do this Natasha – but I don't know either. I never had a stable relationship in my life Tasha. I was too busy trying to stay alive before I was 17. I was in hell on earth while in the military. It was like one brutal battle after another. Bosnia was the last straw before I had to quit. By the time I got out I was so lost and depressed I did horrifying things – things I can't even remember anymore. There are _blanks_ in my memory Natasha and I'm terrified to find out what happened during those hours. I worked for heartless people I should have shot instead of carrying out their orders. I was wasted more hours in the day than I was sober. One day I realized I was turning into my brother – that was that first time I tried to end my pathetic life," he said staring at her with deeply haunted eyes and saw her own personal demons reflected in her steady gaze. They both know he didn't succeed – otherwise he wouldn't be here.

"By the time Coulson found me I was at the lowest point of my entire life. I was a sitting on the wrong side of a high suspension bridge above one of the busiest highways in New York, drunk out of my mind and feeling numb enough not to care about anything anymore. I was planning to jump – because I was too chicken to shoot myself, or to drown myself, or to even throw myself in front of a damn train. At least I couldn't back out of a fall once it started. And then he climbed over the edge of the railing and took a seat beside me. And you know what the bastard said to me?" he asked with a humorlessly laugh as he leaned his forehead against her shoulder and shook slightly.

She simply sat there and stared at her shaking partner with an uncertain look. She didn't know what to do. She never had to comfort someone else in her entire life. So she just did what he did when he tried and mostly failed to comfort _her_. She slowly reached up and wrapped her thin arms around his neck. For once she was the one hugging _him._ She felt him freeze in her arms and just drew him closer.

"What did he say?" she asked quietly in his ear. He took a shaky breath as he wrapped his own arms around her waist and pressed his face into her neck.

"He said if I jumped I'd kill him too – and then he promptly handcuffed us together and shot me his signature _I-have-you-in-the-palm-of-my-hand-look_. The bastard was _insane_!" he exclaimed as he half sobbed, half laughed against her skin. Natasha held his shaking form tighter and promised herself she would be a bit nicer to Coulson from now on. Just a tiny bit.

"What did you do?" she probed gently. She felt him grumble something unintelligible against her collarbone. She sighed and waited for him to repeat himself. He finally took a deep breath to try again.

"I didn't _do_ anything. I got my ass dragged across the city because he said he forget the keys to the handcuffs in his flat. Then he dragged me through an expensive looking condo and into an apartment that barely looked like it was lived in. The second he shut the door behind him he jiggled the cuffs and they fell right off. I was about to strangle him for bringing me there but he promptly pointed a gun at my forehead and told me to take a shower and brush my teeth because I smelled like shit and looked like I got run over by a herd of elephants. He promptly handed me a razor and a tooth brush and shoved me into an overly bright washroom before he slammed the door in my face and locked me in from the outside," he muttered with the annoyance clearly apparent in his voice. The bastard had played him better than anyone ever did in his entire life. Maybe not as well as Natasha – but this was all before Natasha. He felt her shift down to sit on the back of her legs so that she was no longer balancing her weight on her knees – but she didn't let him go so she ended up practically sitting in his lap. They didn't let it get awkward – they were beyond awkward at this point.

"You must have been a sight to see," she said warily. He snorted.

"I looked like a caveman," he said frankly. She chuckled quietly – she can imagine Coulson's uncontrollable need for cleanliness and order. What she didn't expect was him saving a person so far gone down the road of the wretched as Barton had been. She had new respect for their handler. She respected him a bit more every day.

"What did he make you do after he forced you to clean up your act?" she asked quietly after a few moments of silence. Clint grumbled something about _annoying super-agents_ but told her anyway.

"He forced me to change into a set of clothes that fit me perfectly – which had me on high alert because that meant he had planned all of this. I thought he was just an eccentric police officer trying to make me presentable before he took me in. But then he confused the shit out of my when he handed me a cup of hot coffee, a handful of aspirin and asked me what did I want to do with my life? Like he was my fucking shrink or something!" Clint scoffed – he still couldn't believe the _balls_ Coulson had to calmly converse with a highly dangerous suicidal assassin. It made him wonder what type of people Coulson worked with in his old life before SHIELD to be _that_ unaffected by his condition. He heard Natasha chuckle beside his ear and it tickled his skin and made him feel warm and content and all the things she said she couldn't make him feel. He realized she was doing all the things she said she couldn't do. She just didn't _think_ she could do them.

"You royally cussed him out I assume?" she said dryly. He snorted and held her tighter against him. He was never going to let her go. No matter what she ever said anymore. Even if the things she said hurt like hell sometimes.

"You _bet_. It was a motherfucking explosion of the century. I cursed everyone from his great grad uncle to his future nieces and nephews. I told him exactly how I was going to kill him with his own stupid annoying black tie. I told him how I would take his own gun and shoot myself afterwards too," he said gruffly even though she knew he really wasn't angry anymore – especially considering the way he was running his hands up and down her back. He gently leaned his forehead hers and as she watched the emotions swirling in his eyes she knew this was the moment that changed his life.

"But then he asked me if I could start over again would I be a different? He asked me if I wanted to change and become a better version of myself," he said quietly suddenly lost in his memories of when he literally got dragged out of his own personal hell by a complete stranger. Natasha suddenly reached up and brushed the hair out of his slightly glazed eyes.

"What did you say?" she asked softly. His eyes refocused on her calm green ones and he suddenly felt calm too. He felt peaceful. Natasha was more than a ruthless assassin that didn't know how to be nice. He didn't need nice – he needed grounding. He needed someone to be his rock in the storms that passed through in his life.

"I said yes," he whispered.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: INTENSE! Just because they are something like together doesn't mean they're not still intense assassins. So we never got to hear about Clint's background story (in my world) and that was the gist of it. Natasha hinted at her own but she is still more reserved then he is. We'll get to learn about her past slowly. I think Barton had a fairly interesting if tragic short life. It was rather a lot to go through at just 24 years old. And holy shit Coulson is amazing once again. He was not even in this chapter and his badass brilliance shines. I honestly think he is the **_**one**_** person that made Clintasha possible. Someone had to back Barton up when he brought back a defected ex-Russian assassin right? **

**P.S OMG Guys I am like 9 reviews away from this being the most reviewed Clintasha fic on fanfiction! :O Wanna help me out? haha I have honestly been waiting for this moment for like 7 months with my other fics.  
**

**Thank you for all the kind words and support for this story! **


	55. Chapter 55

**I dare you **

**A/N: Hi guys. Really sorry updates have been slow and I'll tell you why at the end but for now enjoy a super long chapter as an apology for my depressing author notes. **

**Chapter 55**

Clint and Natasha stared at each other for a long moment after he had stopped talking with her still sitting in his lap, arms around his neck with his arms around her waist. They both knew something had changed now that he told her about his rather tragic past. He knew hers was still probably worse and the day she felt she could finally tell him he would be grateful that she trusted him enough to share it with him. Until that day he was content with her still sticking around even after she knew what he's done in the darkest moments of his life.

He saw no judgment in her firm green eyes – why would he? Her ledger was much larger than his short period of insanity. She had a ledger that spanned a _lifetime_. Even so he was glad she didn't think badly of him for what he's done. He was even more relieved when he saw no pity either – he hated pity. He simply saw quiet acceptance – and that was all he wanted.

She asked him how he could honestly like someone like her. He had responded by telling her about the depressing life he's lived and now maybe she could understand that she was like a breath of fresh air to him. He studied her steady expression and took in her slightly more relaxed posture – especially compared to how keyed up she had been when they were arguing. He thinks she finally understands his feelings a bit better than before.

They both blinked before the moment was over and then they were pulling away from each other because they had a job to do now. Nothing would ever get in the way of them being damn professionals in SHIELD – not even each other.

However they were both thinking the same exact thing.

They were _not_ ready to see Fury right now. Things would be too hard to hide at the moment. They were going to fall apart before they even started.

"_Tasha_…" he started to say carefully but she quietly cut him off.

"I know," she said simply.

Clint sat the edge of her bed and stared at her clock for a long moment before he reached over to her side table and opened the small drawer to pull out her SHIELD phone. Natasha watched him warily as she cross her legs and sat beside him.

"What are you doing?" she asked cautiously. He ignored her for a moment as he dialed a familiar number before he glanced up to lock eyes with her. The wariness in them was undeniable – she had an idea what he was going for now. However she didn't stop him from what he was doing either.

_Beep_.

"Coulson?" Clint said slowly. He heard the handler paused as he listened to the stiffness in his voice. It felt kind of raw talking to his oldest friend after telling Natasha how they met - until Coulson effectively killed that feeling of course.

"Why the _hell_ are you calling me 10 minutes before you're supposed to be here in person Barton?" Coulson asked immediately getting to the point. Clint nearly snorted. Coulson was always annoyingly straightforward with his words. Clint didn't even bat an eyelash – he knew his handler was the best – but that didn't mean he didn't know how to work Coulson's own concern for his agents against him. Clint learned a few important things about Phil Coulson over the years – most important rule the handler lived by was that he held his agents' safety above anything else – including their missions.

"Agent Romanoff has substantial injuries she didn't think were prudent enough to tell her own damn partner and now I got to find out just how bad they were in the morning. We're not going to be able to make our debriefing with Fury today. Tell him to reschedule for tomorrow – she'll definitely be better by then," Clint lied effortlessly while still starting at his tense partner. She narrowed her eyes as she listened to him lie his way out of their meeting. Coulson at the other end simply sighed.

"You two really know how to make a riot you know? Fury is going to kill me if one more team cancels their meeting with him. You are the third one this morning. What is _wrong_ with you agents today?" Coulson muttered as he glanced down at his tablet and reluctantly sent a message to Hill to let her give their boss the wonderful news that he had another free space on his schedule - joy. Clint barely listened to what Coulson was rambling about – the fact that he didn't question him was all that matter. The only reason he believed him was because lying about injuries was a very Natasha thing to do - even though she was sitting two feet in front of him in perfect health.

Well – as healthy as an ex-Russian assassin with baggage the size of the worldwide recession could be. He didn't know if a messed up mind counted as a notable injury. He knew if SHIELD looked too deeply into the mental health of their agents a good 70% would be deemed medically unfit for service simply because of how messed up half of them were. But they needed to be here just as much as SHIELD needed them to carry out important assignments around the world – so willingly ignorant on certain things they remained.

"Tell Fury not to get his panties in a twist – I've got to go. I'll see you tomorrow Coulson," Clint said steadily before he hung up without hearing Coulson's echo of good bye. He'd understand why he did that. Clint was still staring at his guarded looking partner who he hadn't stopped watching for even a second. She was giving him a suspicious look.

"Why did you do that? We could have told him to postpone it until later today," she said cautiously. He slowly shut her phone and carelessly threw it across the room. The both heard it hit and wall and slide to the ground. The caution in her eyes deepened.

"Because you need to take a step away from your job and live a little Tasha. SHIELD is important – I understand we both need to be here for different reasons – but don't let it become your entire life Tasha. Even if it's the one thing that keeps the demons at bay - one day you'll stop wanting to live because you don't see a reason to anymore," he said quietly. He watched the sharp wheels turn in her head as she considered what his words really meant.

"Did that happened to you even after you joined SHIELD?" she asked slowly. He gave her a rueful smile that was anything but happy.

"Sometimes you need to do something crazy to feel alive again. Sometimes you need to look for humanity in the darkest places, in the darkest moments of your life," he whispered. She paused as she tried to figure out what exactly was catching her attention in his voice. She couldn't grasp the connotation as firmly as she wanted to and finally just asked him.

"When did you find that humanity?" she asked with an air of uncertainty – she had a half formed idea lurking at the back of her head. He gave her a soft knowing smile.

"When I asked someone who was just as lost as I was whether she wanted to change and be a better person. I asked a familiar yet distant stranger whether she thought it was worth living to try and redeem herself. When she said yes I decided to live too," he said quietly as he watched her with careful eyes. She tensed and her gaze hardened just like he knew it would. She was a bit more predictable then she would like to believe. But he thinks that was only true outside of the field.

"You shouldn't have done that. You shouldn't give a stranger the power to make the kind of decisions you're supposed to make for yourself Barton. That is reckless. What if she was anyone else? What if she decided to manipulate you? What if she took advantage of your foolish kindness? " she asked with the anger simmering under her steady tone. He stared back at her irritated gaze with a calm one of his own. He wondered how much of her cautionary advice was actually valid in this scenario. He decided he didn't care because she chose not to do those things.

"But she didn't know who's fate she was deciding for did she?" he said quietly. Natasha firmly shook her head.

"She could have easily said no – she almost did," she whispered with traces of regret laced into her words. Clint smiled sadly and reached out to cup her face with his right hand and traced small circular patterns on her cheek. She had to consciously force herself not to shiver.

"But she didn't Tasha. She said _yes_. And here we are," he whispered and they both heard his heavy words echo in the silence that hovered around them. He reached up to grab the back of her head and gently tugged her face closer to his – she didn't resist. He glanced down at her parted lips and back up at her slightly darkened green eyes and he _knew_ she wanted it just as much as he did. It made him ache to be with her in more ways than just in her presence. But he had a better idea. A more devious idea. He bypassed her tempting lips and smacked a sloppy wet kiss on her cheek. She blinked as she sat frozen on her bed – what the _hell_ did he just do?

"Get dressed. We're getting out of this stuffy place and actually going to see the sun today. Seesh sometimes I think we act like damn vampires cooped up inside whenever we're off mission," he grumbled as he quickly pulled away from her. She nearly fell flat on her face in shock.

"_What_?" she asked unthinkingly. She immediately wanted to shoot herself for sounding so _stupid_. He hid a smirk as he pushed himself off her bed and headed towards the door.

"Bring a sweater – we're walking there," he instructed over his shoulder. She swiftly schooled her face and nearly slapped herself for almost losing it for a second. _Damn you_ Clint Barton she furiously cursed in her mind.

"Where are we going exactly?" she asked cautiously as she threw her legs over the side of her bed. She heard him chuckle and narrowed her eyes.

"Does it matter?" he said as he shoved his hands into his pockets and walked out of her room. He flashed a mischievous grin over his shoulder before he disappeared around the corner. She stared at her empty doorway for a long minute. He just played her. She _knew_ he did. There was no way that was anything else. That _bastard_.

"God damn you Barton. I _really_ hate it when you come up with one of your stupid little spontaneous plans," she muttered and she rubbed her temple feeling a Barton-induced headache coming along nicely. He was going to give her migraines for life.

10 minutes later two assassins were making their way down the steps of their apartment building and walking across the street. For once they were not heading into town towards a base they would avoid like the plague if they didn't strictly have to be there. Natasha was still slightly pissed off at his play in her room and steadily remained stiff and silent. Until she glanced up at the sky that was – she couldn't resist taking a stab at his original predictions.

"Lovely _sunny_ day Barton," Natasha muttered sarcastically as she gestured towards the dull grey sky above their heads that promised showers any time now. There was no sun in sight. He shot her dirty look – he didn't control the weather.

"Pessimistic killjoy," he grumbled. She raised an eyebrow at his utterly childishly barb.

"Childish sugar addict," she shot back just for fun. He paused as he listened to her almost playful response.

"Coldblooded sadist," he said carefully. She narrowed her eyes in challenge.

"Annoying little cockroach," she said sticking her nose in the air. He scowled at his partner.

"Stick up her ass Russian," he said heatedly. She scoffed.

"Food hording American," she growled viciously. She warily watched a suddenly devious expression spread across his face.

"Vicious little ice monkey," he said racking his eyes over her form fitted clothes with unabashed interest. If she was a lesser woman she would have blushed – instead she shot him a cold look in return.

"Dirty fat _pig_," she hissed. He shot her an innocent grin but the dark desire swirling in his eyes was _anything_ but innocent. He was contradicting himself on purpose.

"Violent explosive firecracker," he said teasingly. She clenched her jaw in annoyance.

"Lazy short bastard," she ground out irritably. He froze.

"I'M NOT _SHORT_!" he shouted in outrage breaking their little insulting contest. Several heads turned to stare at the two assassins and she smirked as she watched a dark red hue creep up his neck.

"I win," she said evilly. He shot her a dirty look.

"Shifty cheating beast," he grumbled under his breath. She snorted. _Baby_.

"Sorry I don't speak _loser_," she said haughtily. He scowled at her show of arrogance and suddenly shot her a quizzing look. She noticed the change within seconds and glanced at him warily.

"How many languages _are_ you fluent in?" he asked with sudden interest. She paused as she replayed his random question in her head – where did _that_ come from?

"19…why?" she asked carefully. He froze at her unexpected answer. _Holy shit._

"Damn when did you find the time to learn all of those languages in your busy days of snooping and shooting woman?" he asked in disbelief. She gave him an uneasy look that told him he shouldn't have asked that question. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. But Natasha never liked awkward silences, so she swiftly fixed the momentary pause in their conversation.

"How many do _you_ know?" she shot back. He suddenly sulked and pointedly looked away from her waiting expression.

"8," he grumbled begrudgingly. She raised an eyebrow at his dramatics.

"That is still impressive…" she said honestly. Especially considering it was already hard enough to learn 3 or 4. He simply scoffed.

"Natasha you know almost twice as many languages," he said heatedly. She tensed slightly.

"Barton I didn't have a _choice_," she said steadily, telling him with her eyes to drop it right now. He stared back at her tight expression for a moment before he sighed and took heed of her warning. He didn't really want to start a pointless fight with her – not about things they had no control over. Instead he decided to ask her about something else.

"Are you allergic to anything?" he asked suddenly. She was silent as she considered his question as they continued walking towards who knows where. She should feel a bit a wary that he wasn't telling her - but all she felt was a twitch of annoyance because she hated surprises. 9 months ago she would have flat out refused to come with him until he told her. It took her a moment to realize things had changed. She glanced back at her partner and his waiting expression.

"Are you planning on poisoning my coffee or something Barton?" she asked blankly. He scoffed in honest offense.

"You drink my coffee without even sniffing it anymore. Actually, you don't even open your eyes in the morning when I hand it to you," he said dryly. Her blank expression didn't change like he had expected .

"That's because I can sniff it without you noticing," she said simply. He snorted – _yeah right_.

"Liar. I even switched the flavor we usually bought like a month ago and you didn't notice. You didn't even mention it," he shot back. She gave him a long look following his little confession.

"I noticed Barton - you were being weirder then usual that morning. I knew the coffee was different but I can tell what the 150 most common poisons smell like so I just breezed over it. Besides - I liked the switch," she said carefully. She watched the accomplished look on his face promptly crash and burn as he grumbled something like _paranoid woman who memorizes dangerous smells_. She rolled her eyes as she glanced away from his childish reaction and stared ahead of them at the random street he was leading them down. She had always suspected he did stupid stuff like that coffee incident all the time. He was always trying to gauge her reaction and whether she would freak out or not. She had noticed his little experiments early on but mostly ignored them because she knew why he did them.

Idiot.

"You're the biggest hypocrite I ever met Barton," she said point-blank. He froze in his step and nearly tripped over his own feet at her abrupt words. She kept walking even though she had no idea where he was taking them. That was the beauty behind fake confidence – she could walk like she knew where she was going even though in reality she knew shit. He quickly caught up with her still gaping like a fish.

"What? Why?" he asked incredulously. She sighed as she realized he didn't even do it consciously. That made it even worse.

"You say trust me Barton and want me to trust you, but at the same time you do stupid shit like switch our coffee or mess with our crap thermostat just to gauge what I would do," she said quietly. She felt him stare at her with wary eyes. She knew he knows what she was talking about.

"Actually that night we were freezing was an accident," he muttered begrudgingly. He unintentionally murdered the thermostat while trying to fix the electricity that wasn't working one day. She ignored his attempt to change her line of thought. It was pathetic and they both knew it.

"You're a hypocrite because you have _at least_ half as many trust issues as I do if not more and yet you still pretended to trust me," she said simply. She felt him instantly tense but he didn't stop walking alongside her because he knew she wouldn't stop even if he did. She was annoying like that. Instead his eyes hardened and he shot her a sharp look.

"It wasn't pretend Tasha. This isn't pretend," he said heatedly. God if she brought their trust issues back to their relationship he swore he was going to strangle her. She ignored the simmering anger storming in his eyes.

"It was at the beginning," she said calmly. He gritted his teeth and swiftly looked away confirming her predictions. He cursed under his breath as he ran a hand through his hair completely messing it up. She drove him crazy. She absolutely drove him up a wall with the things she brought up. He took a shaky breath and determined expression crossed his face.

"I _wanted_ to trust you Tasha. I wanted to have a partner I can completely rely on. I want to work with a person who was the best. I wanted that person to be you," he said carefully trying to show her that it wasn't that he didn't want it – it was just that he wasn't stupid enough to blindly trust someone until he was sure. That didn't mean he didn't trust her _now_ though. He stared at her guarded eyes as she silently listened to his words.

"I passed all your little tests then?" she asked after a moment of silence. He sighed heavily.

"Every single last one," he said softly. He felt her relax a fraction of the usual tension coiled tightly around her body – she might as well have just melted in Natasha language. It was kind of cute how she cared about his eccentric ways of trusting people. Though that meant she had to fix the mood immediately.

"The constant sneaking up on me is pushing it though you know that right?" she said frankly, effectively killing the moment. He rolled his eyes and stared up at the darkening sky. They were always surrounded by darkness – but in the middle of all the despair they still had each other. It didn't matter if he was having the worst day of his life to not - if she was here it would be a hundred times better.

"You never answered my original question you know," he said softly. He felt her tear her eyes away from him and redirect her tense gaze to the ground.

"I don't have any allergies Barton. It's a liability you're not allowed to have...," she finally said carefully, but he could tell there was something else. Something she wasn't mentioning.

"Tasha?" he asked quietly. She clenched her fists at her sides and burned a hole into the pavement with her tense stare.

"One girl had an allergy to soy milk. They found out when she was 11. It was a _stupid_ allergy - but it was serious. Do you know what they said?" she asked hollowly. He slowly shook his head even if he had an idea.

"No. What did they say?" he asked softly. She clenched her hands into fists and continued to stare at the ground.

"They told her to get over it or to die trying," she said tightly. Clint paused as he heard the pulsing anger under her words.

"What happened?" he asked quietly. He felt the sadness radiating off of his partner in waves and wanted nothing more than to stop walking and pull her into a tight embrace - especially when she finally looked up and he saw deep soul retching agony in the depths of her green eyes.

"She died Barton. She was forced to drink the soy shit and she had an anaphylactic reaction and just _died_," she whispered swaying slightly as she got lost in a memory from one of the most unsettling parts of her childhood. She never _had_ a chance to be a child. Clint couldn't take it anymore and swiftly stopped walking and dragged her unresisting body into a bone crushing hug. He buried his face in her hair and she leaned her forehead against him chest. He tightened his hold on her waist as she gripped his shirt loosely.

"Doesn't it bother you?" she whispered against his thin coat. He furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Doesn't what bother me?" he asked softly.

"That I'm so damn screwed up?" she asked with a humorlessly laugh. He slowly pulled back and lifted her face so that she was staring at him straight in the eye.

"I thought we established I was a screw up too?" he said teasingly, trying to lighten the depressing mood. She snorted softly.

"Yeah that wasn't too hard to guess," she said warily. He scowled at her straightforward tone.

"Are trying to insult me Tasha?" he asked dryly. He saw a small twitch at the corner of her lips.

"Maybe," she said airily. He rolled his eyes - ruthless Russian.

"Tell me something _not_ depressing about your past. Didn't you ever do anything for fun?" he asked teasingly running his hands along her sides. She ignored the way his wondering hands always left a burning trail of fire on her skin.

"Barton?" she asked blankly.

"Yeah…?" he asked drawing out the last syllable. She gave him a long look.

"Are you playing 20 questions with me?" she asked point-blank. He shot her a boyish grin she hasn't seen in a long time.

"Maybe," he said he said in the same airy tone she had used moments ago. She sighed. He was such a child sometimes.

"Then answer _my_ question this time. Where are we _going_?" she asked repeating her former question. He glanced down at his watch and then scanned the area to see if anyone was paying too close attention to them. She wondered why he was being so cautious while they were on off time.

"Well if the cops don't chase us away we can get there in another 2 minutes," he said sounding rather sure of himself. That got her attention. _Now_ she shot him a suspicious look.

"Are we going to _trespass_ Barton?" she asked in disbelief. He scoffed at her shocked expression.

"We trespass places we're not supposed to be in _everyday_ Tasha. Don't give me that face," he said shooting her a pointed look. She grumbled something about _reckless Americans_.

"There is a difference when we're on off time Barton," she muttered. He rolled his eyes.

"You're the last person I would expect to care about rules. Didn't you say you didn't follow anyone's rules except your own in Colombia?" he asked dryly. She narrowed her eyes.

"Start walking," she said through gritted teeth. He laughed as he dropped his arms from around her waist and grabbed her hand to drag her across the street as he searching for something. For a moment all she did was stare at their joined hands and felt the warmth of his hand seep into her skin.

"It's just around the corner. You're probably going to kill me because we are going to have to get there in a less than ideal way...," he said while reading the street names. He listened to her silence for a moment and glanced back at her with a curious look.

"Tasha? What are you staring at?" he asked as he glanced down at their hands in confusion.

"You're holding my hand," she said blankly. He still didn't look any less confused.

"So...?" he asked slowly. She scrunched up her nose in distaste.

"It feels stupid," she muttered as she looked away. He raised an eyebrow at her childish response and loosened his grip on her hand.

"Then let go," he whispered. She didn't lose the sour look on her face, but she didn't let go either. He grinned as he tightened his hold around her hand and stopped them beside a long fence that ran along an old abandoned train holding compound. Natasha really hoped he wasn't going to say what she thought he was going to say.

"We're kind of sort of going to have to hop the fence," he said shooting her a sheepish look. She stared at him with the same blank look as before.

"You annoy the shit out of me Barton," she said frankly. He snorted.

"Yeah, yeah and yet you're still here Tasha," he said as he passed her stiff form lightly dragging his fingers across her stomach as he went and easily started climbing. She tensed as she felt his hand brush against her thin sweater and left a trail of heat along her skin. She clenched her jaw at the stupid reaction as she grabbed onto the rusty fence.

"I feel like a damn delinquent," she muttered as she reluctantly climbed after him. God why did she go along with his crazy plans again? She heard him chuckle from above her.

"Well good because that's basically what we are at the moment," he said cheerfully. She scoffed and shot him a dirty look.

"Fantastic. I've gone from world class Russian assassin to lowly pathetic delinquent. I've come _so_ far up in the world Barton," she said sarcastically as she reached the top of the fence. He had already made it down the other side and easily landed on his feet. He looked up at her scowling face and smiled softly.

"Just jump," he said simply as he held out his arms in an obvious gesture. She stared at him.

"Are you stupid?" she asked blankly. He grinned.

"Why? You don't think I could catch you Tasha?" he asked raising an eyebrow in challenge. Her scowl deepened.

"I doubt you could catch a falling bird the size of your car," she grumbled as she swung her leg over to one side and basically sat on the top of the fence. She gripped the metal bar she was resting her weight on as a chilly wind blew through her unbrushed red hair – she was usually more presentable then this, but he practically dragged her ass out of bed so to hell with appearances. He scoffed in offense to her statement.

"I'm a sniper Tasha. I've never missed my shot and I'm rarely unaware of exactly where everything is in my environment. My spatial skills are one of the best in the world. I highly doubt I'm going to drop you," he said flatly. She eyed his calm and confident expression with suspicion. She narrowed her gaze when she noticed something odd flicker in his eyes.

"This is one of your stupid trust things again isn't it?" she muttered as she watched him give her a devious grin.

"Any day now Romanoff," he drawled as he held his arms out still looking like an idiot. He would neither confirm nor deny her accusations. She scowled at her partner's irritatingly cheerful attitude.

"This is all so damn _annoying_," she grumbled as she rubbed one hand against her forehead. She heard him snort and glanced back down at his grinning face.

"You keep saying that but I kind of think you mean the other thing," he said with a deep chuckle. She shot him a truly irritated look.

"If I jump will you finally just _shut up_?" she asked incredulously. His grin simply widened in response.

She muttered something in Russian under her breath too low for him to catch before she promptly pushed herself off the fence and fell to ground without warning him. His quick reflexes were the only thing that saved her from a nasty impact with the floor - he had a feeling she did that on purpose. Everything she ever does is on purpose. He easily caught her with his arms hooked under her knees and waist and held her close as they stared at each other for a moment.

"Hi," he whispered inches from her face. She shifted uneasily in his arms but refused to let it become awkward.

"Hi," she muttered begrudgingly. He laughed at how reluctant she was to even accept the fact that she trusted him enough to let him catch her. It made his heart clench that she even jumped at all – a big part of him still didn't believe that she did.

"Wasn't that fun?" he asked with a big fat stupid grin on his face. She gave him a cautious look. She never understood where all the cheerfulness came from when everything he's ever told her has been so damn sad. He was a walking and talking sob story and yet here he stood honestly smiling at her. Sometimes she thinks Barton is stronger than most simply because he has the courage to smile when the world has only ever frowned at him.

"Oh yeah as fun as shooting kittens and bunnies like their target practice is," she said sarcastically. He rolled his eyes – again with the morbid thoughts. Seesh couldn't she think about nice things for once?

"_Have_ you ever shot a bunny?" he asked warily. She gave him a dirty look.

"I don't shoot bunnies – they're too weak and fluffy and they get on my nerves," she said gruffly. He raised an eyebrow.

"You mean they're cute and you don't want kills something that adorable?" he asked dryly. She glared at him.

"I said what I said," she growled. He smirked.

"I know - and then I read between the lines," he shot back. She gritted her teeth and had enough of this stupid line of conversation – especially in her current position.

"Put me down," she ordered steadily. He tightened his grip around her waist in response.

"What if I don't want to?" he whispered. She narrowed her eyes at her irritating partner.

"I can _make_ you put me down Barton." she said carefully. He felt something cool brush against the back of his neck and he gave her a long look.

"You had a knife up your sleeve didn't you?" he said dryly. She cocked an eyebrow – when did she _not_? He eyed her rather serious expression and sighed in defeat – she would follow through with her threats. Insane Russian. He reluctantly released his arm around her knees and let her drop to the ground in front of him. She easily regained her balance and released her grip around his neck – knife suspiciously absent from sight. She brushed down the wrinkles in her rumpled sweater and gave him a suspicious look.

"Why are we trespassing in an old closed down train junkyard with random tracks that haven't been used in decades?" she asked slowly as she glanced around at the rather sad state of the empty trains and useless scraps of rubbish scattered around the area. Clint scratched the back of his head and coughed awkwardly into his hand.

"Well...okay wow, this is kind of morbid – but I thought what the heck? You're morbid plenty of times so now it's my turn," he said hesitantly. She scanned the empty yard and slowly brought her eyes back to her uneasy looking partner.

"Barton what on earth are you talking about?" she asked tiredly. She honestly completely missed his point sometimes – mostly because his logic never made any sense. He gave her a crooked smile as he watched her try to figure out what the heck he meant.

"Look up," he whispered. She glanced up at the highway above them and furrowed her brow in confusion. She followed to the road with her eyes and watched it lead onto a large suspension bridge towering over a large intersection of highways. She wasn't really following the path anymore. _Oh_.

"You're right - this _is_ morbid," she said flatly. He chuckled at her unimpressed tone and was about to respond when the sky broke open and it starting pouring down on them – they were both drenched within seconds. Natasha gave him the dirtiest look she could manage while looking like a drowned rat.

"Even the weather agrees that this is morbid Barton," she said giving him the _what-are-you-trying-to-do-idiot? _face. He grinned at her more than a little pissed off expression and gently brushed the red hair plastered to her forehead out of her eyes.

"Dance with me," he whispered. She froze.

"_Here_?" she asked incredulously. Was he mentally insane? He chuckled as the rain continued to pour around them and flood the tracks beside the two assassins.

"Where else Tasha?" he asked extremely amused at her utter shock. She continued to stare at him, as she was unable to warp her head around how exactly his screwed up head worked to be able to come up with _this_. She couldn't figure out anything to say about his apparent insanity because that was a moot point – instead she stated the obvious.

"There's no music…" she said cautiously. He shrugged.

"Doesn't rain count as music Tasha?" he asked cheekily. She scoffed.

"_No_," she muttered severely unimpressed by his moves. He laughed and tugged his iPod out of his pocket, along with his white headphones. She stared at the item in his hand and gave him a blank look.

"You have _got_ to be joking," she said flatly. He grinned at her as he stuck one of the ear buds in his ear and the other in her own. She gave him a quizzing look and he just kept grinning. He glanced down at the little device and furrowed his brow as he banged it against his shirt to get it working. Electronics and rain don't go well together. They were both staring at the stupid short-circuiting device when they heard a familiar song start to play.

"_I can't win, I can't reign, _

_I will never win this game,_

_Without you, without you," _

She stared at him for a long moment. He laughed at her speechless expression and tugged her soaked body towards his own.

"Oh well – it's _music_," he said simply. She gave him an unimpressed look.

"This is bullshit. You have _horrible_ taste in music," she said with a heavy sigh. He rolled his eyes and gently guided her arms to wrap around his neck – he smiled when he let her. His smile widened when she didn't chock him to death either. _Score_.

"Dance with me Tasha," he whispered as he firmly grasped her hips. She shook her head in disbelief.

"It's _raining _Barton," she said in a strained voice as the water pour down their faces. He laughed lightly as he leaned his forehead against hers and spun them in gentle circles.

"Even better!" he said teasingly. She gave him an incredulous look. His insanity knew no bounds.

"You're going to catch a cold you crazy American," she muttered as she tightened her hold around his soaked neck and allowed him to sway them to the rhythm of the horrible song.

"You'll just have to nurse me back to health then. You could be my own personal nurse," he said playfully. She snorted - _yeah right. _

"I'll probably stab you with anesthetics to stop your annoying sniffling," she grumbled. He suddenly gave her a grim look.

"I take it back – you'd be a horrible nurse. A sexy nurse – but a horrible, horrible one," he said gravely. She cocked an eyebrow at his contradicting thoughts.

"If you think I'm ever going to sit by your bedside like a worried mother hen while you cough your heart out you are more screwed up and delusional then I thought," she said frankly. He wagged his eyebrows at her but she simply glared at him in return as she watched the water drip off the tips of his hair and splash against his grinning face.

"I bet you would. I bet you would beat me up after I got better too though," he said wincing at the afterthought. She rolled her eyes and glanced up at the pouring sky as he continued to spin them steadily.

He was cheesy. He was a horrible planner. He has terrible wooing skills. He had half-assed ideas and was spontaneous to a fault. He had no clue how to impress a girl. He wouldn't have been able to hold done an average girlfriend if his life depended on it. He was honestly a lost cause among men.

But she was so fucking glad it was real.

"Tasha?" he whispered trying to catch her attention. She refocused her gaze and looked back at the warm blue eyes that she was sure saw enough pain and suffering to destroy a weaker man's soul and shatter his belief in humanity. But Barton wasn't weak - far from it. To be able to survive what he has been through requires strength. To come out of a past like his, while still retaining the ability to smile is simply a miracle.

"What Clin-," she started to ask before her words were promptly muffled by a pair of warm lips that tasted like coffee and minty toothpaste. She blinked as he kissed her sweetly almost like he was trying to pour all the affection he couldn't explain into this one act of passion.

He could feel the tension still running high in her stiff body and gently rubbed calming circles on her back to tell her it was okay to bring it down a notch and stop being on high alert for a moment. He smiled against her lips as she slowly relaxed enough to close her eyes and just enjoy the fact that for once in her life she was kissing someone because she wanted to and not because of mission parameters that required it. For once she was kissing someone she genuinely _liked_ - even if he got on her nerves 50 present of the time. The other 50 percent of the time he wasn't that bad. She might even grudgingly say she didn't mind his company that much.

For all his faults he always made damn certain that she knew he would only ever do what she wanted. For once what she wanted actually _mattered_ in the equation. Her opinion actually had value to him. He treated her like an equal - but he treated her like she was something special too. For a moment she felt lightheaded - it was slightly intoxicating to finally mean something to someone, to actually be worth something more than an asset or a weapon to them. She spent so long being told what to do and how to do it; that after getting a taste of what real freedom was like, after literally tasting the freedom to feel whatever the hell she wanted to feel - she would never go back. There was no turning back. There was only ever forwards and onwards.

She felt him drag his hand along her sides as he leaned forward and ran his tongue along her bottom lip. She parted her lips and let him deepened the kiss as he tightened his hold around her waist and nearly lifted her off the ground as he pulled their soaked bodies closer. She could feel every solid muscle and well-toned part of his body pressed up against her softer yet firm wet figure.

Unlike Barton's fighting style hers wasn't about brutal strength - it was about stealth and speed. In most cases looking less threatening worked to her advantage. He was one of the only men in the entire world who didn't underestimate her ability right from the start. She had seen it in his eyes that he knew she was an exceptional fighter and he didn't let his guard down for even a second. She would never say it out loud - but maybe she hadn't fought back as hard as she could have. Maybe she wanted him to have her pinned to a wall with an arrow through her shoulder and a gun to her forehead just to see what he would do. Maybe she wanted to find out if all men were the same cocky, arrogant, heartless bastards she's encountered her entire life. Because in an even head on fight she was sure she could win every single time. She was sure she could have managed to get away if she had wanted to.

She tentatively reached up and buried her hands in his wet dark hair and felt him sigh in pleasure as she gripped it tightly and drew him closer. He was hard and soft, rugged and smooth, dark and bright - all at the same time. He was one of the most contradicting people she ever met. She had embarrassingly low expectations for men - she expected the worst in them. And yet he proved her wrong again and again and again. She didn't know when he would stop proving her wrong.

For once she wasn't beyond pissed that she had miscalculated. For once she didn't mind she had actually found someone she couldn't figure out within the first 3 minutes. It's been 9 months and she still didn't know everything about him. She had a feeling she never would completely.

She started to feel that nagging need for oxygen burn deep in her chest and knew he felt it too as he loosed his firm grip around her waist. She felt him press his lips firmly against her own for a moment before he finally pulled away and broken the kiss. He gave her a soft out of breath smile as he leaned his forehead against hers.

"Now I have a better memory for this place," he whispered as he breathed in deep breaths of air. She always made him breathless after a kiss. It wasn't just because of the lack of oxygen. It was always so much more. She meant so much more. Natasha regained her breath faster than he did as per usual and gave him an odd look.

"Glad I could help eraser the past?" she said warily. He laughed as he wrapped his arms around her soaked body and calmly shook his head.

"No - you can never erase the past Tasha. It will always be there. Our ledgers will always be. But you can be a part of my present. You can change my life right now Tasha. And hopefully you'll still be here to be a part of my future too," he whispered as he ran a warm hand up and down her cold arms. She stared back at his hopeful eyes but didn't say what he wanted her to say.

"Right now sounds good," she said quietly. She wouldn't give him empty promises. She didn't know where she would be 2 or 3 years from now. She didn't how long she would or even could stick around. She's never had a constant in her life before. He was rapidly starting to feel like one - but she knew that could change. He gave her a sad smile in return and gently brushed the back of his hand against her cool cheek.

"You know the beauty of right now is that there is always a moment that is considered right now. So that means in one way right now will never end," he whispered. She stared at her partner and then blinked as she listened to him find a loop hole in what she said once again. He made an art out of twisting her words around.

"I think I'm going to suffocate from all the damn cheese," she muttered. He laughed softly as he tugged at one of her soaked strands of hair.

"Hey, I thought girls _liked_ mushy and weird romantic stuff like kissing in the rain?" he asked playfully. She gave him a stony look - she was not most girls and they both knew it. If he wanted normal - she wasn't it. But he didn't so they breezed over that potentially disastrous topic.

"You know if I could catch a cold I would kill you for bringing us out here right?" she said warily. He scoffed and was about to respond when he suddenly felt the urge to sneeze.

"ACHOO!" he sneezed in response. She gave him a blank look.

"I knew it. I knew you would catch a cold - idiot," she said with a heavy sigh. He scowled as he tried to subtly swallow his urge to cough.

"Shut up Romanoff. That was the best kiss in the rain you ever had in your _life_," he grumbled pathetically sniffling from the cold he was bound to get now. She snorted.

"That was the only kiss I had in the rain in my life Barton," she said frankly. He froze and then a brilliant smile spread across his face as he literally beamed at her. It was a little unnerving.

"Even _better_ - I got to be your first for something," he said with a bit too much brightness that she doubted it was his usual fake kind.

"HEY! HEY YOU TWO! WHAT ARE DOING ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE FENCE?" someone shouted angrily from behind them. They both froze as they stared at each other looking like a pair of idiots standing in the rain about to get busted by the police.

"Times up Tasha – every assassin for themselves," Clint whispered quickly before he shot across the old train tracks and ran for his pathetic life. Her mouth nearly hit the floor. He did not just do that!

"BARTON YOU COWARD GET BACK HERE!" she growled as she ran after her infuriating partner. She angrily glanced back at the two police officers jumping over the fence behind her and sped up – oh she was going to _kill_ Clint Barton.

How _dare_ he ditch her?

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Haha yeah apparently Barton only has self-preservation skills when the police are involved. That or he gets sick pleasure out of catching Natasha Romanoff off guard. **

**IMPORTANT PLEASE READ: So onto my depressing news. I know this chapter was supposed to be about Fury and SHIELD and kick starting the next mission which I was really excited about because it was going to be heist operation - but I had to rework this chapter because I can't start that mission right now. Guys...I'm failing calculus (or just about to fail). I need to take a break from writing because it's kind of like a bad addiction right now. Thank you so much for reading this far and reviewing and supporting my work - but I really need to pass school and graduate. Thank you for making this the most reviewed Clintasha fanfic – I really love this story. I hope you love it too! I reached over 900 reviews and I'm seriously shocked I did that in a month. Then again I wrote a 190k+ story in about a month too –that tells you I didn't do my homework very well. I promise I'll be back when my marks go up and I get better at time management because right now it's not working. I'm staring at my math test and about to cry. **

**I'm really sorry guys! Really sorry. Don't be sad (cause I'm already sad enough for all of us)! I promise I'll finish the story as soon as I fix my marks. **

**Bye bye for now :(  
**

**- Shadowsontherun **


	56. Chapter 56

**I dare you **

**A/N: Hey guys! Can you believe it's only been a week? Haha I was actually studying while I stuffed my laptop in some dark corner for this last week and guess what? I actually got a 90 on my last calculus quiz! O.O OMG! DO YOUR HOMEWORK PEOPLE! Damn I'm not even good at math but apparently if I put all the time I usually put into this story into school I can do pretty good. SO ANYWAY! It's March break (WOO) and there is no school for a week :) I will try and do one mission if I can while on break…if I can't I'm sorry we'll be stopping at a really bad cliff hanger cause I'll be really busy when I go back to school. Do you still want me to start the mission? Let me know. **

**For now enjoy some interesting Clintasha! **

**Chapter 56 **

It was 20 minutes before their follow up meeting with Fury the next day and Natasha and Clint were silently sitting in his SHIELD car a street away from the base. They were both staring at their hands as they tried to find the strength to pull the best performance of their lives.

"He's the only one who's not allowed to suspect anything right?" she said quietly. Clint snorted softly as he gripped the steering wheel in front of him.

"Oh he already suspects considering what he said last time. The problem is he is too damn observant. However the good thing is that as long as we continue to complete our missions efficiently and provided we never get caught actually doing anything considered compromising - he can't say shit. There are no grounds on which we can be expelled from service if there's no proof," he said firmly. He finally looked up as he felt her gaze on him and locked eyes together.

"People can bullshit all kinds of proof Barton," she said slowly. He shook his head.

"I don't think they actually _want_ to terminate our partnership Tasha - we're too good of a team. It's just a rule they have to obey, just like we technically have to be strictly platonic partners according to SHIELD regulations," he said steadily, very aware of the fact that they were anything _but_ platonic. He felt the uneasiness in the stale air in his car suddenly spike.

"Is this really worth all the trouble Barton?" she asked carefully. He tensed and shot her a sharp look.

"Natasha..." he said warningly. If she started this right now he was going to shoot something – possibly her. She looked away and he watched her hair fall off her shoulder and hid her face from view.

"I'm not saying anything like that Barton. I'm just asking if you think this is even worth it?" she said quietly. He narrowed his eyes and he felt an uneasy feeling start to pump through his veins. He really hated when she got like this.

"Of course it's worth it. Why the fuck would we go through all this damn trouble if it wasn't worth something?" he asked heatedly. She finally glanced up and gave him a searching look that hid questions he doubted she would ever ask. How was he supposed to know they were on the same page if she never told him what she was thinking? He was good at reading people– but he wasn't good enough to fully grasp what went on in her head _all_ the time. That just wasn't possible.

"Most people have second guesses at this point," she said quietly watching him with careful eyes. Clint finally couldn't ignore the burning need to touch her anymore and leaned forward to gently cup her face in his rough hands. She narrowed her eyes in warning but didn't pull away.

"Tasha. Tasha whatever we have - I want it more than anything else. I want to try this with you. I need you to stop thinking I'm going to back out because I never will. Never Tasha. But how is this going to work if I'm the only one invested in it?" he said softly rubbing his thumb across her cheek. She tried to look away from the depth of the emotion swirling in his eyes but he held her in place with a gentle grip and shook his head. "It doesn't work like this Tasha. I _need_ you to want it too," he whispered staring at her with pleading eyes. She had to try to make it work too. He felt a knot in his chest loosen as she let him see her eyes soften slightly.

"I'm still here," she muttered. He laughed in relief. She was stubborn as hell, but she was right.

"Yes. Yes you're still here," he said pulling her stiff body into a tight embrace. She awkwardly leaned over the gap between their seats as he held her close and slowly wrapped her arms around his neck. She felt his breath catch in his throat and sighed heavily.

"You're way too easy to please, you idiot. You're so stupid. What are you going to do when you meet a girl who will take advantage of that part of you?" she asked grumpily. He held her tighter in response.

"Will you?" he whispered in her ear. She narrowed her eyes as she heard the real desire to know in his voice.

"I don't need to exploit your stupid need for affection to get you to do what I want. A gun will do just fine," she said steadily. He scoffed at her insult to his feelings but inside his fear that maybe she would just end up using him was put to rest. He didn't see her as the type to take this long to seduce someone. If she really wanted to seduce him to get something from him she would've screwed him over and disappeared well before their partnership hit 9 damn months. He respected her skills enough to believe that she was doing this because she wanted to – even with all her uncertainties.

"It's not stupid. Everyone needs affection in their lives - just not everyone will admit it," he said carefully. She pulled back and stared at him with something he couldn't completely identify.

"You're lucky Barton," she said quietly. He gave her a quizzing look. How on earth does he qualify as one of the lucky ones? He felt like he got the short end of the stick his whole life.

"You have the ability to show what you feel when you want to," she elaborated without him asking. He gave her a wary look.

"Natasha even though I'm a decent actor - acting is definitely your specialty, not mine," he said slowly. She shook her head and stared at his shirt.

"There is a key difference between reality and acting Barton. Tell me you can't tell when I'm acting - no matter how convincing I may be," she said cautiously as she dropped her arms from around his neck and let them fall to her sides. Clint rolled his eyes.

"That's only because I personally know your lovely _real_ icy personality," he said dryly. She scowled at him. Him and his stupid jokes always pissed her off.

"You really know how to charm a girl Barton," she said sarcastically. He raised an eyebrow at the sudden irritation that flash across her face.

"I know how to charm women fine Tasha. But what is the point in trying to charm someone who doesn't even like charming men?" he asked as he rested his elbows against the steering wheel and propped his head in his hand. She narrowed her eyes at his casualness.

"How would you know I don't like charming men?" she asked suspiciously. He tilted his head to the side and gave her a knowing smile as his ruffled brown bangs fell over his eyes. He honestly looked like he had nothing better to do in the world. She had the nagging feeling at the back of her head that said he was doing all of his casual actions on purpose - especially when his easy smile widened slightly when he noticed her silently inhale a sharp breath. Damn it she _hated_ being played.

"The fact that you were attracted to me even before we were real friends," he said simply. She tensed and promptly looked away from his distracting smile. Apparently he had no idea how to be damn _subtle_ either.

"Who cares about attraction? Attraction means nothing - it was blindsided by how much you pissed me off. You were a downright annoying _bastard_," she muttered as she stared holes into the dashboard in front of her. He chuckled deeply as he watched her adamantly avoid his gaze. She was right that attraction was just something that was meaningless on its own.

But it was never just attraction.

"You weren't a bundle of sunshine either," he said simply as he reached out with one hand and twirled a strand of her longer red hair around his finger. She tensed slightly at his simple yet heavy action. No one ever simply wanted to touch her affectionately without any intentions of taking the touching to a whole different level.

Barton confused the _shit_ out of her, especially when he used to _hug_ her (of all things) before any of this feeling shit started. The mixed signals were a nightmare for someone who got edgy when she couldn't figure out every single dirty secret about the people around her in less than 3 minutes. If that simple thing bugged her, imagine not completely understanding the ins and outs of a man you see every day for 9 damn months – then you could understand the frustration that flares up in her sometimes.

Even now he never tried or even asked to take things any farther than they've done so far – which was basically shit. She _knew_ he wanted it because of the way he always looked at her - but even if they didn't give a shit about regulations there still might end up being lines they couldn't cross anyway. There are things they can't undo and she had no idea what it would mean for their partnership if things went to shit between them. She still adamantly believed it was bad, _bad_ idea to sleep with your partner. No matter _what_ they were at the moment.

"You're _still_ an annoying bastard," she grumbled. He grinned – he knew that very well.

"You probably wouldn't like me if I wasn't," he said teasingly. She glanced down at her watch on her wrist and pushed his wondering hand away before he started getting any bolder - as if he wasn't bold enough already.

"Time to go," she said as her entire demeanor changed and her expression melted into her controlled hard mask she always wore at SHIELD. Clint watched her shift gears with wary eyes. It was like looking at a completely different person – it made him wonder about something.

"You're scary when you do that," he said quietly. She unbuckled her seat-belt and opened her side door.

"That's the point," she said frankly as she turned away to step out of the car but he suddenly grabbed her hand and dragged her back inside. She tensed as he unexpectedly slammed his lips down on hers and kissed her firmly and with all his unrestrained feelings pouring out of him. However she didn't kiss him back – at all. It was like kissing an unresponsive CPR dummy. He furrowed his brow and just as quickly pushed her away and took a few deep breaths.

"I knew it - you _do_ taste different when you're like this," he said scrunching his nose in distaste. He didn't like it one bit. She narrowed her eyes and as she swiftly steadied her own breath.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she asked as she wiped her mouth like it was no big deal she had practically acted like a solid wall when her current whatever he was kissed her. He should know better than to try shit like that when they have something important to do in a few minutes. He sighed and shook his head.

"Nothing. Go do your thing Widow. I prefer snarky Russians who melt when I bribe her with coffee and chocolate and plays evil jokes on me," he muttered looking away from her. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Stop referring to me like I have a personality disorder," she said warningly. He shrugged as he dropped her hand because he really wasn't going to be seeing the Natasha he wanted until this stupid meeting was over. Natasha in hard core Black Widow mode wasn't his favourite. And he just learned kissing the Widow was just _awful_. He missed Tasha already.

"You might as well have one," he muttered as he climbed out of the car. Natasha gave him a guarded look as she followed his same actions and they both shut their doors at the same time. They shared a stiff look over the roof of his car.

"Don't try to kiss me at random times – it doesn't work like that," she said stiffly. He scoffed.

"Yeah I can _see_ that miss agent of one hundred faces," he grumbled as he walked around to her side and pressed a button on his key chain to lock the car behind him. Natasha shook her head at his childishness.

"Be happy you know the one that is real. Most people don't have that privilege," she said quietly as she brushed passed his rigid form. He sighed and followed after his extremely reserved partner. Sometimes he asked himself why on earth he went after the most _difficult_ woman in the world. Out of all the women he's ever met (and he has met quite a few badasses over the years) why did it have to be _her_? He asked himself these questions for no reason because deep down he knew he was glad it was her and not some shit agent who couldn't hold her own in a shitty situation, let alone save _his_ ass when it needed saving. He wanted someone who was his equal – and she was it. Even if she came with a shit load of baggage he still wanted her.

"I _am_ happy. It just pisses me off that I'm only allowed to be happy at '_designated times'_," he muttered using his fingers to make air quotation marks to emphasize his sarcasm. She shot him a warning look.

"Shut up and _deal_ with it. Actually, do us both a favour and shut up altogether," she said rigidly telling him not too subtly to drop the current topic before they entered the building. He took the hint as he pulled open the front door and made a big show of fake chivalry as he gestured for her to go first. She shot him a burning look as she firmly yanked open the second door beside him and let herself in. Damn she was sassy. He shrugged and quickly followed after her swift stride.

"Don't act like we're in the 19th century Barton," she said stiffly as she walked through the busy SHIELD lobby. Clint easily caught up and calmly kept an even pace beside her. Nobody shot them a second look – good to know they belonged here.

"My you are demanding Romanoff," he said gruffly slipping into his own verbally sharper and rougher side. She didn't acknowledge the change but he noticed her release the tension in her shoulders by a fraction. She was so damn _uptight_ sometimes – it made him want to roughly slam her body against a wall, take her control and force her to break her emotionless character and actually _kiss him back_. That had pissed him off. He knew he could do it if he pushed her enough – they just didn't have the time right now. Also, SHIELD was the last place he wanted to do any of the things he planned on doing to her when this shit was over.

"You are a pain in my ass Barton," she shot back tightly. He raised an eyebrow but choose to not to mention the potential for unintended innuendo. Instead he let his hands slip into his pockets as they weaved through the buzzing base.

"You are a first class asshole yourself Romanoff," he said pointblank. She tensed – he was so damn straight forward sometimes it made her want to kick him in the head. Huh – that was new. She'd rather kick him then shoot him. Well wasn't that something?

"When has that never been obvious?" she said heatedly continuing their familiar banter. She wasn't a pleasant person and she made damn well sure everyone knew it – but he still stuck around despite everything that has happened. He was still here after all the crap that went down between them. She would never admit it, but that meant a whole lot more to her than anything else he could ever do. And then he promptly killed her begrudgingly nice thoughts about him.

"You take being an asshole and turn it into an art form," he said dryly. She shot him a dirty look that spoke of threats she _would_ follow through with if he continued to provoke her. Him and his lack of self-preservation skills deserved a medal –then she could effectively choke him with the damn medal too. Maybe he would finally shut up then - she doubted it though.

"Do they _always_ act like that?" one of the senior agents said quietly to another agent beside him as they passed the bickering partners down a hall.

"Honestly? Sometimes it makes you wonder how they can even _stand_ each other," the other agent replied shooting the bickering pair a wary look.

Clint and Natasha shared a quick knowing glance before they promptly looked away and made their way to their boss' office.

How did the Hawkeye-Black Widow partnership actually even _work_? Well wasn't that one of the big mysteries agents wondered about within the walls of the SHIELD base?

None of the little bastards were ever going to find out.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Isn't it fun to see how their dynamic partnership and relationship works and changes when they are alone and when they're not? The difference in how they act around each other is fun to write about haha. LOL Barton doesn't like kissing **_**Black Widow**_** – isn't that interesting? Other than the fact that she was a damn **_**wall**_** – Black Widow usually means she's hunting a target and we all know he hates being treated like a target. Does that make any sense? **

**OH AND YAY? I'M BACK FOR A LITTLE BIT ;) Review and let me know if you'd like me to start the next mission. Wanna guess what country I'm going to send them to? (think around Asia)  
**


	57. Chapter 57

**I dare you **

**A/N: MEETING TIME :D Not what you expect. Haha. **

**Chapter 57 **

Two more than a little tense SHIELD agents were standing side by side staring at a metal door with the foreboding words "Director's office" written across the front in glaring white letters. It was 8:59 and they were scheduled (or more like resechuled) to have their debrief with their director bright and early.

_Nobody_ liked bright and early.

Their poker faces were commendable because they gave nothing away – however the fact that they were still standing there after 20 seconds is what killed their attempt to look in control. The last time they were here it ended with her slapping him across the face and them storming off in opposite directions. He really hoped that she would refrain from throwing him around this time if this went to shit. After another 10 seconds Natasha finally got fed up with the stalemate and the unbearable silence.

"Open the damn door Barton," Natasha said irritably. He shot his edgy partner a wary look.

"Actually I think we're supposed to knock," he muttered looking anywhere except at the foreboding door in front of them. Natasha stared at him with her steeled gaze as she watched his pathetic attempt at stalling. She crossed her arms and leaned towards him.

"I'm partners with a damn agent who has no problem walking into an armed situation full of angry Italian scum bugs where he is outnumbered 50 to 1, and yet here he is coward when faced with the prospect of seeing his boss," Natasha growled under her breath - low enough that only he could hear her. He whipped his head to the side and glared her. Any louder than that and any one of the agents making their way down the hall behind them would have heard. She really enjoyed playing with fire didn't she?

"Sometimes I really hate you Romanoff," Clint growled back and promptly banged his fist against the door he never wanted to see again in his life - only with a _tiny_ bit more force than strictly necessary. Natasha smirked internally.

Never say that Natasha Romanoff doesn't know how to make her partner get over his insecurities - or at least coerce him into shoving them to the back of his head and actually deal with the situation. So much for being the testosterone part of their partnership.

"Door's open - make yourself useful," an unexpected voice called out from behind the metal barrier. They both shared a wary look as Clint pushed open the steel door and stared at the lean dark haired agent leaning against the director's desk with a file in her hand. She cocked an eyebrow at their frozen stance. Unless Fury had decided to have a sex change, bleach his skin and put on a rather impressive looking wig it was agent Hill. They didn't even bother to consider that ridiculous idea.

Okay so maybe there was no other option besides that fact that they were staring at their second in command superior.

What the hell?

"Oh dear god it's _you_," Clint said with a very real groan. That had Natasha on high alert - why would agent Hill cause a reaction like that? She barely sees Barton ever interact with the stiff higher up. In fact...she is pretty sure Hill is never even in the building when they were around SHIELD. _Strange_.

"Good morning agent Romanoff," Hill said pointedly ignoring the scowling agent and his disrespectful comment.

"Morning Sir," she said slowly still trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

"Still with us even after months of spending torturous amounts of time with our resident arrowhead?" Hill asked casually. Natasha blinked. Did she really just say that?

"Apparently so...," Natasha said carefully. The few times she's had to meet with Hill on part of her initial instigation into the organization and she had been professional to a fault. The typical expressionless agent type. But _now_...confused didn't even cut it. She watched Hill nod and accept her answer at face value before she finally settled her leveled gaze on her agitated partner. He twitched.

"Barton," Hill said curtly - he swore she just turned his name into a dirty insult worse than the colourful Russian curses Natasha could spew when she was righteously pissed. She left those for the times when he did something truly stupid. Hill gave him a pointed look. He huffed.

"Hill," he grumbled back begrudgingly. Hill ignored the obviously unhappy tone and flipped through the papers in the file in her hand. Natasha was still standing off to the side trying to analyze the situation - she got shit at the moment.

"So you two are here for your debrief and next assignment right?" she asked as she read something in the file. Clint froze.

"What? Where the hell is Fury?" Clint asked suddenly realizing she was not indeed leaving and telling them their director would be with them shorty. She glanced up and gave him a long look.

"Do you see the director in the room Barton?" Hill asked dryly. He shot her a dirty look.

"You don't want to know I see," he muttered under his breath. Natasha shot him a sharp look.

"Barton..." Natasha said warningly. She never really saw him as the blatantly disrespectful type - at least not to someone's face. What the hell was wrong with him? Instead of chewing him out like Natasha expected Hill just rolled her eyes.

"Director's off dealing with some situation in Romania at the moment. He left 5 hours ago. But that doesn't mean you two are going to be twiddling your thumbs. I have your mission – but first sit _down_," she ordered clearly and calmly.

Barton made a face that said he was seriously contemplating the thought of disobeying the simple demand, but as Hill turned around to take a seat at the desk Natasha's arm shot out and dragged his ass down beside her onto the two chairs in front of the large wooden desk. Clint scowled at her rough actions but she glared back at him with a look that clearly said, _What. The. Fuck?_

Clint shifted under her heated gaze and grumbled something about _knives and can't take a joke_. Natasha promptly looked away and shook her head. Now she didn't want to know what their shit was anymore.

"How are your injuries agent Romanoff?" Hill asked as she sat down and continued to read the report in her hand. Natasha tensed and shot Barton another sharp look. He was busy scanning their second in command's face and shrugged ever so slightly in response to Natasha's irritated gaze. It's not like she couldn't lie her way through this conversation. She was a professional liar after all. Besides, they really did need that break.

"They're fine - nearly completely gone. Barton was overreacting like usual. There wasn't even that much blood," Natasha said tightly. Clint furrowed his brow as he heard something off in her voice. He knows what she sounds like when she was lying through her teeth - this wasn't it. Hill finally glanced up and gave her a calculative look.

"So did you decide to write in how you fell through a glass cabinet in the bar at the party and received serious wounds because of the glass shards yesterday _after_ Baton saw your injures and forced you to take it easy?" Hill asked carefully. Natasha tensed and her eyes flashed down to the paper in the superior's hand.

She was reading their mission report she sent over last night. Damn.

"Does it matter when I'm completely fine now?" Natasha asked steadily. Hill sighed and finally put the report down.

"It's not about being fine. It's about how _not_ fine you could be if you don't even let your partner know about crucial things like that. We're not in the field with you - _he_ is. In the report or not in the report we all know there are things agents leave out. But you really need to be more open about these things Romanoff. I know you've worked alone your whole life - but if you want to continue working here you need to be vigilant about injuries. Understood?" Hill asked carefully. Natasha didn't look away from the piercing stare - she could out-stare _anyone_.

Now that Clint thought about it - she may not have smashed through a glass cabinet, but she _had_ smashed through quite a few shattered windows. _Sharp_ shattered windows. His eyes shot down to take in her choice of clothing - loose long-sleeved black shirt and her slightly baggy jeans. Actually she had been wearing a lot of layers for the last few days since the end of their mission. He froze.

Holy shit she wasn't completely lying about the injuries. He had made that up and yet it was actually true. However the cuts _were_ probably gone by now thanks to the damn enhancers. He wiped all the emotion off his face as the anger flooded his body. Damn she just doesn't _change_. She still lies to him. Damn it he was going kill her. It was rather disturbing how his thoughts were so freaking bipolar when it came to Natasha Romanoff. She made him want to kiss her and strangle her at the same damn time. 9 months and they were still dealing with this shit?

Natasha felt the seething anger coming off of him in waves even though he showed nothing on his face. It was obvious by the fact he wasn't scowling anymore - he was trying damn hard not to let anything show at all. Fantastic he was pissed. When is he _not_ pissed? Oh right, when she was doing him a favour by not shaving years off his life because his constant worrying. Damn him. Why the fuck did he care so much about a few cuts?

"Understood agent?" Hill repeated more firmly when she was still staring at her with stony silence. Natasha gritted her teeth as two pair of eyes burned a hole through her skull. Shit.

"Yes understood Sir," she grounded out against her will. She hated being cornered. She hated when people tried to force her to do something she didn't completely agree to. She hated feeling out of control. The anger of being told what to do was burning through her veins. Hill could see the agitation in Natasha's tense form and finally put their report away.

"I'm holding you to that. Don't take my words the wrong way. I do think you're a highly capable agent Romanoff. I do respect your intelligence and skills - but we care about your health just as much as we care about you getting the mission done. Does that make sense?" Hill asked carefully. Natasha promptly looked away and felt the rage calm slightly. Nobody ever actually cared about her or if she survived her assignments or not because it didn't matter how good she was – she was still dispensable. Barton didn't count - he was an exception. What she hated above all else was when the stupid Americans were _right_. God she hated when her Russian nationalism flared – but damn it was it annoying when Americans showed her up.

"Yes," she muttered begrudgingly. Hill sighed - damn stubborn agents would be the death of her. She glanced at the archer currently staring at his partner in disbelief. She listened to Hill? As in the agent they _never_ see? When he had been the one preaching the same god damn thing for _months_? What the hell?

"What's wrong with your face Barton?" Hill asked frankly. He tore his eyes away from his partner who was adamantly avoiding his gaze and scowled at Hill.

"Don't you have a mission to give us?" he practically growled. He wasn't even trying to feign politeness anymore. Natasha had managed to royally piss him off _again_. Hill raised an eyebrow.

"Don't you have some manners to show me?" she shot back. He narrowed his eyes.

"You're the one who hijacked _our_ meeting," he growled. Hill scoffed.

"Oh _please_ – as if you wanted to see Fury after skipping out on him yesterday. He would have eaten you two alive and we both know it. You're going to _Japan_ you antsy agents," she said as she swiftly slammed a file down in front of them. The two partners stopped silently antagonizing each other and stared the open file in front of them.

"What's project Delta X?" Clint asked slowly as he scanned the assignment details in front of him. It looked like an intelligence gathering mission – damn it he _hated_ those. Hill shook her head slowly.

"Classified. All you need to know is that 48 hours we had a breech in security and have a serious piece of highly confidential information stolen from one of our most secured holding facility," she said stiffly. Clint gave her a wary look. He truly hated the word classified.

"Means it wasn't as secure as it should have been doesn't it?" he couldn't help but add dryly. Hill narrowed her eyes.

"Don't try to be smart with me Barton. One of the guards was bribed by a shady Japanese software company called Fujitsu," she said steadily as they read through the notes in front of them. Natasha furrowed her brow and glanced up.

"How do you know who stole it?" she asked carefully. Hill gave her a tight smile and cracked her knuckles not so subtly.

"I'm a _good_ interrogator," she said with an ominous glint in her eyes. Clint glanced down at the bruises that marked her right hand and slowly shook his head.

"All you women in this organization are damn insane," Clint muttered under his breath. Two dirty glares were instantly burning into his skull.

"Make another comment like that and I don't think your partner would stop me from socking you in the face Barton," Hill said warningly. He snorted – he didn't need Natasha to protect him. Besides he knew very well she wouldn't give a shit if Hill took a swing at him – she'd probably think he deserved it. _Women_.

Natasha ignored the intense stare down between agent and superior and pulled the mission details towards her to take a closer look at the picture clipped to the corner of the page – it was a picture of small black rectangular memory chip…with a small needle injection point on the end where there was supposed to be the USB port. What the hell _was_ this?

"Hill…how is the memory chip supposed to be read exactly?" Natasha asked cautiously breaking into the staring match. Clint whipped his head down to take look at the photo she was examining and paled.

"That's…that is just _sick_!" he said in utter disgust. Hill sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose - here we go again.

"It's a mental impression chip. One time use – inject the chemical in the chip into your body and you get the memories and the info imprinted on your mind. It's the only way to decode the information. That's the failsafe. It can be stolen but at all times there will only ever be one person who can see what it says," Hill explained slowly. Clint shook his head in disbelief.

"Who the hell came _up_ with this?" Clint asked suspiciously. Who was crazy enough to come up with a drug that can imprint memories? That kind of shit messed people up. Hill rubbed her forehead.

"SHIELD scientists Barton. Who else?" Hill asked tiredly. She really hated having moral right or wrong conversations with him – he was a damn assassin and right or wrong is supposed to be over looked in their job.

"SHIELD and its damn science," he said untrustingly. He never wanted to know half of the things they got up to in the countless labs they had in the building. Experiments gave him the creeps. Hill pointedly ignored his unimpressed face and decided Romanoff was the better bet to address.

"It's undetermined time frame mission. We have no idea where the chip is or if someone has used it. We highly doubt anyone has otherwise we'd know in a heartbeat - trust me," Hill said firmly. Natasha paused.

"So are we going in undercover to figure where the chip went?" Natasha asked carefully making sure she understood what they wanted them to do. Hill nodded.

"You're going in as representatives of Canadian IT Company that would like to invest in Fujitsu. You'll have at least 3 days in the building without suspicion while you fake a meeting with them - after that you're doing it the hard way. Hack their database, seduce the damn CEO, turn the place upside-down - I really don't care. Just find it and you can come home," Hill said tightly. Natasha nodded but Clint was still not liking the mission.

"Stupid chase for a useless chip," Clint muttered under his breath. Hill shot him a burning look.

"Shut up. Innocent people's lives are going to be _destroyed_ if you don't get it back," she said harshly. Clint tensed.

"Well then what the fuck is _in_ that chip?" he asked heatedly. Hill gritted her teeth.

"I told you it's _classified_," she said briskly. He scoffed.

"Then why are we being given the retrieval mission? Why not a team with more clearance then us?" he asked angrily. He hated going in blind. He hated that his clearance was only level 9. Maybe it was close to the top – but it just didn't cut it sometimes. They both watched Hill's expression darken.

"Our high clearance teams are currently busy in Romania," she said through gritted teeth. Natasha paused - Romania sounded like it was more serious than she was originally letting on.

"What's happening in Romania exactly?" she asked carefully. Hill took a deep breath and burned holes into Fury's desk as she stared at the dark wood.

"Someone rigged a bomb in one of our underground facilities and blew everything up – include our Romanian unit in Bucharest," she said tightly. The tension in the room instantly skyrocketed. That was like 50 agents just _gone_.

"An explosion like that would be all over the news...," Clint said slowly trying to gauge how bad this event really was. Hill gave him a blank look.

"We can censor the news Barton," she said flatly. Clint gave her a long look.

"How legal is that I wonder?" he asked warily. Hill shot him a warning look.

"We're not the government," she said cautiously. Clint snorted.

"Oh I knew that alright. That's why SHIELD can get things done 30 times faster than the CIA or FBI – there are fewer laws to tip toe around," he muttered.

"If you don't like it you don't have to stay," Hill grounded out. Clint huffed.

"Didn't say I particularly care about legality," he grumbled - touchy boss. Hill gave him a pointed look.

"Don't worry about Romania - director's dealing with that personally along with 3 other SHIELD teams. They should have that disaster covered and cleaned up in a week," she said firmly. Natasha rested her elbows on her knees and leaned forward to rest her chin against the back of her clasped hands.

"Hill – how are we supposed to go on this mission without even knowing why the target wants this chip?" Natasha asked trying a different approach then Barton's blatant _tell-me-damn-it _strategy. Hill sighed and tiredly rubbed her forehead.

"It has compromising information on the U.S. government special unit operations," she said tightly. She refused to say any more than that. Clint's eye twitched when she answered Natasha's inquiry about the chip but not his own. _Damn women_.

"Why does SHIELD have information _that_ dangerous just lying around?" Clint asked slowly even though he knew the answer. Hill sighed.

"Leverage," she muttered. He gave her a long look – pathetic.

"Now the Japanese have that leverage eh?" Clint muttered shaking his head. Honestly intelligence agencies were so damn predictable sometimes. Something was still bugging Natasha though.

"What does a software company need leverage with the U.S. government for?" Natasha asked steadily. Hill sighed – too sharp.

"The company is a cover - a successful cover because it is real, but underneath all the technical stuff they are running a smuggling operation with the Yakuza – Japan's number one organized crime gang," Hill said cautiously. Both partners tensed.

"Smuggling _what_ exactly?" Natasha asked with an uneasy feeling creeping up her back. The bad feeling she had from the very beginning of this meeting was at the front of her mind now. Hill looked away.

"We don't know what for sure…" she said carefully. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"You have a pretty good idea though don't you?" he asked tensely. Hill refused to budge though.

"Again how does that fact relate to the success of your mission?" Hill asked tightly. Clint shook his head.

"This sounds like one of the _sketchiest_ missions we've ever been asked to do," Clint said suspiciously. Hill gripped a pen tightly in her hand.

"That's because you're not technically qualified for this mission," she said with a sharp look.

"Did Fury tell you to give it to us?" Natasha asked slowly. Hill took a deep breath.

"Yes," she said tightly – they could tell she didn't want them going on it as much as they didn't think they should.

"You have the right to say no," she said steadily. Missions were never mandatory unless there was no other team available. However she had options – unfortunately they all knew she was being made to ask them because they were the best one.

"What's the estimated success rate for us on this mission?" Natasha asked staring at the picture of the SHIELD property they're supposed to steal back.

"62 percent," Hill said cautiously. Clint scoffed in offense.

"_Wonderful_ confidence booster Hill. How about the other teams being considered for the mission?" he asked steadily. He watched their agent burn a hole into the desk again.

"Less than 2 percent," she said stiffly. They both froze – what the hell?

"We'll go," Natasha said firmly even though she had the worst feeling in the world she didn't want to back out and let another inexperienced team practically commit suicide.

"Are you sure?" Hill asked carefully even though she was relieved that she didn't have to give this assignment to another team. Damn why did Romania have to happen _now_? Natasha nodded slowly.

"As long as Barton can handle wearing a suit we'll be fine," she said dryly. Clint sputtered beside her.

"Hey I can wear suits _fine_!" he exclaimed in offense. They all ignored his dramatics. Hill gave Natasha a long look that made her feel like she should be picking up a message she clearly wasn't.

"Okay. While you two are in Japan – do us all a favour and take out our little thief," Hill said passing them a blurry mug shot of a dirty banged up angry young Japanese man.

"Seiko Takashi," Natasha read out loud in perfect Japanese enunciation. Clint scowled. Wonderful, this was one of the languages she knew fluently and he barely got by on. Apparently this meant he was going to be studying languages in his free time when she wasn't around now. The problem with that was that even on off time she _was_ always around. He took a second look at their target's name and scoffed.

"Wonderful, our target's name sounds like psycho – _that's_ a good start," Clint said sarcastically. Hill gave him another cautionary look.

"Don't kill him until you find out where the chip is," Hill said warningly. Clint snorted as he picked up the file signifying he was begrudgingly on board with the sketchy assignment.

"I make no promises," he said gruffly. Hill ignored his snark and leveled them with a serious gaze.

"And agents?" she said carefully. They both glanced up at locked eyes with her. She only spoke when she was sure she had their full attention.

"You do your mission – and then you get the _hell_ out. Do not try and be heroes. You won't survive 1 day in their world," Hill said warningly. All three of them shared an intense look – what type of shit were they being thrown into exactly?

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Forewarning: Japan is going to be the mission that breaks your fragile hearts. I'm totally going to hit Clintasha hard with something that is going to nearly destroy their sanity. It's going to be one hell of a nightmare. :D Then again...how bad could it get right?  
**

**Lesson #1: You can't save everyone because some people don't want to be saved. **

**Haha. Are you scared yet? **


	58. Chapter 58

**I dare you**

**A/N: I'll love your reactions when you find out the horrifying part of this mission. haha. Realize that you asked for it :D after several chapters of fluff I plan on being brutally ruthless. Muhahaha. So evil. Last chapter in New York before we get out of here.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 58**

After the tense meeting with Barton's _favorite_ second in command, the two assassins were silent as they walked down a less crowded hall. They weren't alone but that didn't mean he couldn't talk to her.

"Ready for our mission in one of the most highly populated cities in the world?" he asked, trying to reassure her it would all work out in the end. Just because it was a mission not quite in their league didn't mean they couldn't do it.

"Tokyo has way too many damn people," she grumbled in response, but he watched the tension drained from her posture as she kept a swift pace beside him. So she _did_ actually put value in his words. Huh.

"The world in general has too many people - apparently some still don't know about birth control," he said dryly. He was rewarded with a twitch of her lips - too bad her good mood evaporated as they rounded the corner.

"If only the majority of those people weren't nosy, suspicious, stick up their ass _bastards_," she muttered, shooting a vicious glare at a junior agent that was staring at them for a bit too long. Clint turned around and watched the agent squeak before he bolted around the corner and ran for his life. Damn, he didn't even blame the kid – his partner was downright _scary_.

"Nah, not all of them are nosy. Maybe suspicious – but everyone is always suspicious of others, you know?" he said, glancing back at her stiff figure. She had redirected her burning glare to the path ahead.

"Were people always so suspicious of each other from the start of humanity, or just in the last few decades?" she asked carefully, sliding her serious green eyes back to his calm blue ones. He felt his heart warm slightly when the anger in her eyes lessened as she looked at him. It made him feel like they could survive anything as long as she looked at him like that. Like he was the only one she could stand. He wanted to believe he was special to her. He knew what she was _really _asking.

"I think you're overthinking things again. Really, who cares about suspicion? Apparently no one gives a shit about anything as long as you don't get caught doing whatever the hell you shouldn't be doing," he said, giving her a secret smile. She crinkled her brow in slight confusion. Their organization worked in weird ways.

"I'll never understand Americans," she muttered finally. He laughed as he watched her scowl at him.

"We're not _that_ hard to understand," he said raising an eyebrow. She shook her head slowly.

"No, American actions are very easy to understand and predict – it's American motives I don't understand," she said carefully. He paused as he listened to her repeat the same thing she has said once before. Motives.

"Why do you care so much about _why_ people do things?" he asked curiously. She gave him a careful look that made him feel like she was talking about _him_.

"Because people always have a reason behind why they do something. It's imperative to know what it is to make a well-informed decision," she said steadily. He blinked – he didn't know she thought like that. Maybe he should have. It wasn't hard to accept that she was so calculative about everything in their life.

Sometimes he wondered what type of thoughts she had about him and if they were as organized as everything that came out of her mouth. He wondered if she had a mental compartment in her head with his name on it. He wondered where the Natasha who had nightmares, the Natasha who was tormented by the role she played in the Bosnian war, the Natasha who told him she needed him just as much as he needed her went when he was staring at the calm controlled mask she always wore at SHIELD.

"Sometimes you do things just because you feel like being nice or simply because you want to," he said, calmly answering her hidden question. He watched a guarded look enter her eyes as she stared back at him. He knew she was remembering everything he's ever done, and how he put a dent in her firm belief that people were simply selfish by nature. From the moment they met on opposite sides of the jobs, throughout their rocky partnership, and up until this point, where their relationship was in some odd transition phase between partners and something more than that. He waited patiently as she gave him a searching look.

"We should get out of here," she said quietly, looking away and continuing down the hall. He nodded.

"Yeah, but we need to see Coulson before we head out. I want to ask him something about the mission," he said quietly as he stopped them beside an elevator, pressing the button for level 3 – Coulson's office.

"What's the deal with you and Hill?" she asked carefully as they waited for the doors to open. Clint winced visibly.

"I'll tell you later – she'll try and kill me all over again if I talk about it here," he muttered suspiciously, glancing around to make sure _she _wasn't here. Natasha raised a wary eyebrow. Translation: he did something really, really _stupid_. Can't say she was surprised.

"You really enjoy pissing off all the women in your life, don't you?" she asked dryly. Clint snorted and shook his head.

"Nah, it's just her. She always has a stick up her ass, and she needs someone to enrage the inner beast so that she'll come out of her little hermit world of security details and barking orders through a phone. If she stays like that she'll be the single cat lady _forever_!" he said shaking his head in honest worry. Natasha snorted - over-dramatic bastard.

"You know you piss me off just as much right?" Natasha said carefully. She didn't want to but she always wondered why she was the only person he was even remotely interested in, out of all the hardened SHIELD agents he worked with, long before they ever met.

She found it hard to believe he honestly didn't have a single relationship in his entire time working here. He was way too…_open_ when they were alone not to want one. She never expected him to be the affectionate type - but boy was he that behind closed doors. That was a slight…shock. She didn't know if it was actually a bad thing, considering he was pretty much an annoying jackass towards everyone else.

He glanced at her as the doors dinged open in front of them. She saw him drop a few walls, and his eyes softened by a fraction. Almost nothing changed on his face, but she noticed the shift easily.

"Yeah, but you're different," he said quietly brushing his hand against hers. It appeared to be an accidental touch, but she knew better. She knew him better now than she did a few months ago, at least. Every day she got to know him a bit better. He didn't make silly mistakes like that - he was a natural sniper and knew exactly where he was in relation to everything else around him at all times. Bastard had done that on purpose.

"Barton..." Natasha said warningly. He shoved his idle wondering hands into his pockets to resist the temptation and pretended not to hear her. He didn't particularly want to deal with her wrath right now. It might turn him on again.

Yeah, so maybe that was a problem sometimes.

"Lift's here," he said quietly, brushing past her stiff figure. She narrowed her eyes as she followed him into the elevator.

"Reckless son of a _bitch_," she muttered under her breath as the doors shut behind her. They were technically alone – too bad they knew this place had security cameras in every nook and corner.

"Why are you always bitching at me Romanoff?" he groaned as he banged his head against the wall. She snorted.

"Because you deserve to be bitched at," she spat. He suddenly smirked as he turned around, and she narrowed her eyes in warning. He better not say what she knows he is thinking.

"8 months ago you didn't even _know_ what the word bitch meant, Tasha," he said deviously. The next thing he knew he had a familiar pistol digging into the side of his head. _Score-_ he had made her crack.

"That is _not_ true!" she growled. His smirk only widened as she shoved his head roughly against the metal wall of the elevator. It made his heart pound faster.

"I watched you _Google_ it, Tasha," he said, trying desperately to hold in his laughter so she wouldn't blow his brains out. She shook with barely suppressed rage.

"HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW AMERICAN SLANG ON MY FIRST DAY IN AMERICA?" she shouted furiously. He couldn't take it any longer, and burst out laughing just as the door slid open beside them.

"Are you _kidding_ me?" a familiar voice said in disbelief. They both promptly schooled their faces and glanced to their left, as Natasha's gun mysteriously disappeared at lightning speed. That was a bad move. They relaxed by a fraction of a degree when they found a scowling Coulson staring at them with an unimpressed look on his face.

"Threats in the elevator? Really, Romanoff?" he asked dryly. Natasha scoffed and guiltily glanced away. Coulson always had a way of making them feel like damn children. He waited for some kind of response, but all he got was stony silence. No one really liked getting caught with a gun aimed at their partner's head – even if all 3 of them knew it was Natasha's twisted version of a joke.

"Why are you two here?" he finally asked with a sigh. Clint took it upon himself to lead the conversation, since he was pretty sure Natasha was going to remain adamantly silent after that little incident. She was annoyingly stubborn like that.

"Hill gave us the Fujitsu mission in Japan. Something about a retrieval of a memory chip with comprising information on it?" Clint said carefully. Coulson didn't lose the questioning look on his face.

"Okay…but why are you up _here _though?" he asked slowly, searching their faces for some kind of answer. Clint shifted uneasily under Coulson's steady gaze – well, when all else fails the truth was the way to go.

"Do you know what's on the chip?" he asked point-blank. Natasha smacked her palm against her forehead as Coulson sighed heavily.

Barton just never learned how to be subtle at the circus did he?

"Good bye Barton," Coulson said tiredly, turning away from the most taxing pair of agents he had ever had to keep track of.

"So you _do_ know!" Clint exclaimed as he trailed after their blank faced handler. Natasha followed behind the pair at a more gradual pace. Barton could do the running - she would watch him get shot down from a distance.

"And you're wasting your time trying to get information you don't need, Barton," Coulson said stiffly. Clint scoffed.

"How are we supposed to hunt down something if we don't even have all the facts about it?" he asked gruffly. Coulson gave him a pointed look.

"You shouldn't even _be_ on this mission. Fury is an idiot for sending you two. Sometimes you need to take things at face value and run with the situation," Coulson said tightly. This answer did not impress Clint in the least.

"Come on, Coulson-" he started to object but he got cut off instantly.

"_Barton_!" Coulson said forcefully. His sharp tone made Clint freeze in place. Coulson never raised his voice like that - _never_. Coulson closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"_Don't_ ask questions you know I can't answer - otherwise _I'll_ start asking questions you two don't want me to," Coulson said warningly. Natasha and Clint both tensed. They heard the threat loud and clear - but he was bluffing… right?

"You wouldn't do that Coulson," Clint said quietly. They were friends under all the agent-handler formalities. Coulson wouldn't sell him out. Coulson clenched his hands into tight fists. Barton was right, but that didn't mean they shouldn't be cautious.

"Things are tenser around here than you might think, Barton. Something is simmering under the surface and it's really making everyone edgy. Just do your mission and come back in one piece okay? You too Romanoff. Don't let him do anything too stupid, and please for god's sake _don't_ be compromised while you're out there," he said, rubbing his forehead irritably. Clint gritted his teeth at his handler's less than supportive words.

"We are _not_ compromised," Clint said tensely. Coulson gave him a wary look.

"Trust me. Where _you're_ going? Comprising each other is the last thing I'm worried about. You two have just decided to make your lives one hundred times harder – but you're allowed to make your own decisions," he said cautiously. Natasha, who had remained silent for the duration of their tense conversation, finally decided to add her own two cents.

"We're both adults, Coulson. We can deal with our own decisions," she said carefully, staring at their handler with a firm look on her face. Coulson stared back with a calculative look.

"Are you, Romanoff? Are you an adult? Because right now all I see is a pair of deluded _children_," he said stiffly. She clenched her jaw but refused to respond to that. Clint had no such qualms though.

"We have a pretty good idea what we're getting into Coulson," Clint said, narrowing his eyes. Coulson laughed humorlessly and ran a hand through his hair. Something was wrong- Coulson _never_ messed up his own hair.

"You have no _idea_ how many partnerships I have had to watch get broken up because of this," he whispered, gesturing between the two of them. They both tensed. Coulson's lack of confidence was unsettling.

"Other partners were stupid and careless – mine is definitely not," Clint ground out. For once he was beyond glad that Natasha had the ability to ignore everything between them and get a job done without fail. It was utterly annoying, but it was useful too. Coulson shook his head and gave them a grim look.

"That's what they all say, Clint. Maybe you'll be the partners to finally prove me wrong. I don't think you will though," he said quietly. Clint shook his head in disbelief.

"What do you want us to _say,_ Coulson?" he asked in defeat. He really didn't know what Coulson wanted from them. They wouldn't stop whatever was happening between them, but then they didn't really think Coulson expected them to.

"Nothing. Just be _careful_," Coulson said, giving them both a steady look before he spun around and stalked down the hall.

"Great show of confidence Coulson! Really got us pumped for our mission!" Clint shouted sarcastically after their retreating handler. Coulson sighed as he rounded the corner, and didn't look back. Clint and Natasha stared down the empty hall for several moments before Clint finally had enough.

"Let's go Romanoff," he grumbled as he spun around and stalked away in the opposite direction, hell bent on getting out of this suffocating base and on the next plane out of this country. He was sick of sitting around after years of jumping from place to place all over the globe. He was _glad_ they had a mission far away from SHIELD. Natasha silently kept up with his brisk pace as he made his way down the hall.

"And if you pick up where he left off on doubts of how this is going to work, _I will shoot you_," he said curtly. Natasha gave him measured look. Pissed Barton was always _lovely_.

"That's nice to know," she said dryly. He scowled as he picked up their pace.

"There is only so much reassurance I can give you before I hit my limit, Tasha," he said quietly enough that only she would catch it. She didn't look at him as they made their way towards the exit.

"I never asked for reassurances," she said carefully. He stared at the front door of the SHIELD base when they finally reached it, and took a deep breath.

"You did. It's in your eyes," he said quietly, before shoving the door open and walking out of the base.

Natasha was silent as she followed him out of the building. They were finally able to breathe more easily in the fresh September air, but that didn't mean the tension between them was gone. She could feel the agitation coming off of him in waves as they walked down the street towards the small parking lot tucked into a corner between groups of buildings. She watched him clench and unclench his fists as they approached his car. He didn't even bother to hide what he was feeling anymore.

"Damn it!" he growled as he banged his fist against his car door, nearly putting a dent in it.

He was pissed. He was tense. He was keyed up, and he had no idea how to deal with it. The SHIELD meeting went better than he thought, but still not as well as he would've liked. And then Coulson had to go and disapprove of their relationship right to his face. If he didn't have his only friend's blessing, what the hell did he have? Natasha could see all of this clearly, and sighed.

"Clint?" she said quietly. He paused as he leaned his forehead against the cool metal and listened to her use his real name – it meant she was finally ready to stop being a pain in his _ass_ agent, and become the girl he actually liked in the first place. It really sucked that she had to be two very different and distinct people, but he honestly didn't see them being able to work any other way. He barely sees Alicia between missions- there was no _way_ he could have had a relationship with anyone besides his partner. He tried to reign in the frustration coursing through his body, but it really wasn't working. He sighed.

"What's up Tash-" he started to say but he got cut off when he felt her deceptively thin arms spin him around and roughly shove him back against his own car. He felt his breath get knocked out of his lungs as she tightened the grip on his wrists and slammed them against either side of his head. He felt his heart rate spike as she trapped him between his car and her firm body, coursing with the strength he _knew_ she possessed. It still shocked him when he saw it in action - especially against him.

He didn't even consider for a second that she could easily kill him in this position. He was so far gone that it wasn't even funny. She had him cornered, and he wasn't even worried. Shit, did that mean he was losing his touch? Or was that the trust shit they never really thought they had a handle on?

"Do you see it?" she asked in a rough low voice. He felt his own body rapidly heat up and instantly respond to her voice – but he was so damn _relieved _that it wasn't the annoying seductive one she reserved for marks. He _hated_ being seduced by her. He finally looked up at her sharp green eyes and nearly collapsed in shock as he saw the clear burning desire flashing in her eyes. Holy _shit_.

She wanted him. Of course she wanted him. Why the fuck would she still be here if she didn't?

"See what?" he whispered, pretending not to know what she was talking about, even though he knew she could see his own eyes darken and his pupils dilate in response to her own intense look. Natasha _never_ looked at him like that. She never let him see just _how_ much he affects her. It was making him dizzy. He hadn't realized she actually wanted him as much as he wanted her. He always thought he was the one who needed this the most. She growled and tightened her hold on his wrists, but that just made him breathe even harder and feel slightly lightheaded. She really needed to find a better way to threaten him, because her usual ferocity just made him want to switch places with her and shove _her_ against his car as he kissed her breath away.

"_Don't_ play dumb Clint," she said heatedly. She gave him a searching look, and he knew she was looking for a verbal response.

"Yes," he whispered breathlessly.

"Good," she muttered before she dragged his face down towards her and smashed their lips together. He felt her press him harder against his car, and was overwhelmed by how much emotion he was feeling through her kiss. It was short-circuiting his brain. He used to _dream_ of Natasha kissing him like this. He used to long for the day she would actually show him she felt just as strongly as he did.

He felt himself melt against her passionate attack on his lips, loosely tugging at her iron grip on his hands. He really wanted to touch her. He really wanted to pull her closer, every though she already had herself pressed up against him as close as she could get. But his hands burned with the need to feel her.

He felt Natasha chuckle against his mouth and easily released his wrists from her unyielding grip. He growled at her amusement and instantly wrapped his arm around her waist to pick her up and spin them around so that _she_ was the one slammed up against his car- just like he wanted. He felt immensely proud of how far they'd come when she didn't resist his slightly possessive actions. He was allowed to feel a little possessive, right? After all the shit they've been through he could say she was _his,_ right? Right? Damn, she drove him crazy. She nearly made him _drop_ her altogether when she slowly wrapped her long jean-clad legs around his waist and pulled him closer.

He pressed her back against the car door and pinned her in place with his body weight so that he could let go of her waist and drag his hands along her sides and down her back, before boldly gripping her ass. He wasn't as hesitant to touch her anymore – especially when she didn't push him away. Actually he was _pretty_ sure she was trying not to moan. He was just getting into it when she suddenly dropped her legs from around his waist, grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, and forced them to switch places without breaking the kiss for even a second. He nearly rolled his eyes as he found himself trapped against his car all over again.

"Control freak," he mumbled against her lips. She snorted.

"Deal with it," she grumbled back. He smirked as he heard traces of her rough Russian accent bleed into her voice, and pulled away from her lips to trail sloppy, heated kisses down her exposed neck. He felt her tense as she resisted the urge to squirm under his ministrations, and nearly laughed out loud.

"Still in a parking lot," she growled, trying to pull his mouth away from her oversensitive skin by yanking at his short hair. He let her pull his face back up to her eye level, and he shot her a lazy grin.

"Oh and who started this I wonder?" he whispered as his breath brushed over her lips. He wouldn't ever tell her, but he was simply _thrilled_ she took the initiative to do something – he was getting tired of being the one to kiss her.

"You're such a damn tease," she muttered. He paused.

"Oh, hell no. Tasha you have owned that title since day _one_ of our partnership," he said, being serious for a moment. She cocked an eyebrow.

"I did not. I didn't even _try_ Barton," she said warily. He wouldn't have lasted a day if she had tried. He scoffed.

"Oh yeah? All your threats, all your glares, all your damn sass drove me up a wall," he mumbled grumpily. She loosened her slightly painful grip on his hair and actually rubbed her fingers over the part of his scalp she had abused. He bit back the urge to sigh in pleasure, and tried to focus on their conversation – it was harder than he would've liked.

"No, Barton, that was just you and your weird taste," she said in a dry tone that clearly contradicted her soothing actions.

"Still, you _knew,"_ he pointed out, daring her to deny it with his sharp blue eyes. She didn't look away or even try to deny anything. It was true. An easy calming silence fell between them, and for a moment they just stared at each other as Clint leaned against his car and Natasha leaned on top of him.

"So, what was that for exactly?" he asked, tugging at a loose strand of her red hair. Not that he didn't love the mind-blowing kiss – he thoroughly enjoyed it– but he was still curious. She shrugged.

"I think _you're_ the one who needs reassurances – not me," she said with a wary smile. He just scoffed. _That's_ why she kissed him like that?

"Well, you think? Do you see anyone offering to take that role around here?" he grumbled touchily. Pessimists surrounded him all day, every day. It was _exhausting_.

"I'm doing it aren't I?" she said quietly. He gave her a long look.

"No offense Tasha – but you really need to work on your reassurance skills," he said dryly as he pulled her closer and held her tightly. That didn't mean he didn't appreciate her trying though. She narrowed her eyes.

"I thought I did a pretty _damn_ good job," she muttered irritably. He chuckled deeply.

"Things like that make me want you _so_ much more," he whispered as he ran his hands down her back.

"I didn't do much," she muttered against his shirt. He tightened his hold around her waist and sighed happily as he buried his face in her hair. She was right.

"No – but you're trying. That means a lot," he whispered in her ear. _It means you actually care,_ he left unsaid. She snorted.

"I told you you're too easy to please idiot," she grumbled. She felt him smile against her skin as he held her tighter. She was so damn worth it.

"We're going to prove everyone wrong Tasha. _Every_ single last one of them," he whispered, determined. He wasn't going to lose the one good thing that happened to him in his entire life.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Are they? Can they prove Coulson wrong? Time to stalk the techicolourful Japanese streets of Tokyo and find out. New York might be flashy – but Tokyo is flashy and exotic. Damn I love how Natasha gives Clint whiplash. XD I feel like people like her are so damn passionate under all that damn control.**_**So **_**much fun watching her drop the mask once in a while.**

**TIME FOR SOME ACTION :D**


	59. Chapter 59

**I dare you**

**A/N: MISSION TIME :D well…mostly the start. We've never done an airport scene you know? Let's see how much trouble they can stir in an airport.**

**Chapter 59**

Two confident looking "_Americans_" (anyone who wore western clothes and spoke decent English was defaulted as an American outside of Europe) strode down the glass walled hall that led them off the commercial airlines and towards the familiar passport checking counter.

"Ohayo gozaimasu. Welcome to Japan," a tall, pretty Japanese airline attendant greeted them with a slight bow as the pair of agents approached her.

"I feel _very_ welcomed," Clint said, flashing the attendant a charming smile with his own rough touch to it, and had several women in his direct vicinity positively swooning. He was laying it thick, and all the ladies were eating it up – except one. Natasha Romanoff stood stiffly beside him, ignoring everything and everyone around her as she read the 3-day itinerary Fujitsu's head secretary had emailed them about the "_conference_" they were going to attend tomorrow morning. It sounded like one gigantic snore fest – Barton was going to annoy the shit out of her through the whole charade, she just _knew_ it.

"Are you and your wife here for honeymoon?" the polite attendant asked. There was a collective sigh of disappointment from all around them. Natasha nearly snorted right then and there as she continued to scan the documents, not even bothering to acknowledge the conversation that was happening beside her. Pathetic.

"No, me and my _sister_ are just here visiting some friends," Clint lied smoothly. She tensed ever so slightly so that he would know she was listening, even though she appeared like she didn't give a shit what her travelling partner was doing.

_Sister_? What the hell? She didn't know if she preferred the attendant thinking they were _married_ (as disgusting as that term was), or related by blood as Barton had just made them, which was possibly even _more_ disgusting. _Do you shove your mother against hard surfaces and kiss her too?_ Thank God nobody heard Natasha's seething inner dialogue, otherwise someone would definitely end up dead in this madness.

"Oh. Are you going to be in Japan for more than a few weeks then?" the attendant asked, suddenly sounding a _lot_ more invested in the conversation. That irked Natasha even _more_.

"Nope, sorry. Short visit. Isn't that right, _sis_?" Clint said, giving her a cheerful look. Natasha had no idea _what_ he was going for and just scowled at him. They both glanced back at the already smitten looking attendant. Damn, she was definitely interested in the American archer. Barton was right – he _did _know how to be charming. Well… charming enough to cause these pathetic women to fall for something so obviously fake. It was sickening. Sometimes Natasha wanted to slap all the easily fooled women of the world. They were all idiots for being tricked so effortlessly by men. Utterly naïve _idiots_.

"Piss off," she grumbled coldly – sister _indeed_. Clint sighed – so pleasant.

"She doesn't do jetlag very well," he said apologetically to the attendant while rubbing her on the back in a comforting manner. Natasha's eye twitched. She knows what she would like to do with that hand – _break it in half._ The attendant easily bought his lie just like they both knew she would.

"Oh, poor thing. Would you like a free hotel reservation so you can rest tonight in Tokyo before continuing your journey?" the attendant asked kindly. Natasha knew the gesture was as fake as the brown of the Asian lady's hair. She was staring at Barton like he was a piece of prized _meat_. She knew exactly what the attendant had in mind if they spent the night here, and judging from the way Barton subtly leaned away from the woman he could read it too. _Disgusting_.

"No, you can keep your stupid reservation. Can we have our passports back now?" Natasha finally spoke, burning acid coloring her tone. The attendant blinked in confusion, and slowly handed their forged American passports over to her. Natasha ripped them from her hand and spun around, red hair flying around her like a fiery whip, before stalking away. She didn't even glance back to see if her annoying partner was following her – she knew he would. She walked determinedly through the crowds of people from all over the world, moving sluggishly through the Tokyo airport. She felt his presence before she heard him speak.

"That was rude, Tasha," someone said quietly to her left. She didn't lose her blank expression, and didn't look at him either.

"Do you always flirt with the airport staff?" she asked steadily. She decided she wasn't going to blow up because Barton had the right to flirt with whomever he pleased. She wasn't going to stop him. He blinked in confusion, and then his face suddenly darkened – she hadn't been paying attention.

"_No_. I was swiping her pass card," he said seriously, firmly grabbing her hand and squeezing it, with the card tucked safely between their joined hands as proof. As _if_ he would go after tall, beautiful Japanese women who he would barely be able to converse with when he had _her_. Ridiculous.

She ignored the tight feeling in her stomach loosening – this entire situation was ridiculous. What next? She would get pissed off at him flirting with inanimate objects? Bullshit. _Get a grip Romanoff._

"Why do you need her pass card?" she asked carefully, glancing down at their joined hands. If he wanted to pretend they were siblings, holding her hand wasn't the way to get that message across. But he just gripped her hand tighter when he saw her pointed staring.

"I did some homework during the flight over. Seiko Takashi has a father who is coincidentally leaving on a flight within the next hour. I'm going to double book him with someone else so that he misses his flight. Then maybe he'll lead us to his son," Clint said quietly so that only she would hear him as he scanned the many terminals counters, looking for an empty one where he could hijack one of the computer and override some booking files. Natasha blinked – she was actually mildly impressed. So _that's_ what he was doing on his laptop.

"And here I thought you were playing pacman the whole ride over," she said dryly. She watched in slight amusement as his ears turned the lightest shade of pink, and wondered offhandedly why he let her see that.

"It was a long flight, woman. Leave me alone," he muttered defensively as he tugged her towards the last terminal in the gigantic airport. She cocked an eyebrow at his grumbles as she allowed him to lead her.

"Hey, you came up with a rather good plan, so let's run with it," she said calmly. He glanced at her in surprise- he didn't think she would actually agree to it. He stopped them beside the counter he was eyeing from several meters back, and quickly spun her away from him to face the people flowing down the wide aisle in the middle of two long strips of terminals.

"Cover me," he whispered in her ear before stepping away from her to make the illegal security breech he was about to do in plain sight as quick as possible. He probably could have gotten Natasha to hack the system and make the changes from her own laptop, but that would likely take longer than the 45 minutes they had for this plan to work.

"How good of a hacker are you?" Natasha asked causally as she kept watch. Barton rapidly worked his way through the many layers of security, overriding everything that stood in his way.

"Decent enough. I'm a better locksmith though," he said honestly, concentrating on finding the flight info he was looking for. She listened to him work at a faster speed then just '_decent'_ as she scanned the sea of people. She paused when something caught her eye.

"Security spotted us," she said calmly, pretending to be reading the long forgotten documents in her hand, like she had nothing to do with the suspicious American behind her.

"Almost got it. Knock him dead, hot stuff," he said with a slight twitch of his lips, eyes flying across the screen in front of him. He got into the flight he wanted. He just needed to switch papa Takashi with another passenger and screw his itinerary over. "By the way, I didn't mean that _literally_," he added quickly, glancing up to give her a pointed look. Natasha rolled her eyes and promptly selected her weapon of choice- hysteria. Always a favorite of hers, being extremely efficient for unsettling men. She started breathing shallowly, and quickly intercepted the security officer hell bent on seeing what exactly her partner was up to.

"Hello. Are you security? Could you help me with something please?" Natasha asked nervously, wringing her hands, swiftly blocking the officer's view of her partner. He glanced down at her in slight annoyance, but she could tell he was the down-to-earth type of guard. Too bad she was going to play him like a fiddle.

"I would ma'am but-" he started to say, but she quickly stepped into his personal space and grabbed him by the edge of his uniform, giving him the widest scared eyes she could manage.

"Please, Sir? I think I lost my inhaler – I have serious asthma complications without it," she said, leaning into him and letting him see the desperation in her eyes. She knew she had him hooked the second his shoulders fell and he finally let himself focus on her shaking figure.

"Inhaler? Can you give me one moment before I help you look for it?" he asked, still distracted by what her partner was doing behind her. Natasha resisted the urge to her grit her teeth and instead forced herself to sway from side to side.

"I-I-I-I can't breathe," she said breathlessly, dramatically rolling hooded, half-seeing eyes before she let go of his uniform and collapsed to the floor. She heard several stupid women scream in shock, as she appeared to hit the ground hard. As _if_ that hurt – she had learned how to fake a faint long before she was even considered a woman.

"Oh my _God_. Emergency! Emergency! Where is the medical team on site?" the security officer shouted frantically into his walkie-talkie. He paled as he looked down at the unmoving redhead lying on the floor in front of him.

"What do you mean medical is stuck on the second floor?" he cried in disbelief. Natasha held her breath and started counting how long it would take for the idiot to "_save_" her. Most people who stopped breathing needed medical attention within 4 minutes – she could hold her breath for about 3.

"Everyone back away, and don't crowd the fallen lady!" the security guard shouted over all the commotion. She could feel people starting to circle her – joy.

"Hey! That's my sister!" a familiar voice shouted over the commotion. She heard shuffling as a lot bodies were shoved to the side, and then finally she felt a familiar presence drop to the floor beside her head. Natasha wanted to slap him across the face – _again_ with the sister crap?

"Your dramatics are hilarious to watch," a familiar voice whispered in her ear. She didn't respond obviously. Why did the idiot have to take so long? Then she wouldn't be the center of attention. She was going to kill him. She had a feeling he could heard her murderous thoughts because of what he said next.

"Oh my god, she's not breathing! Has anyone seen an inhaler?" he said in convincing panic. Natasha felt like strangling him. They were causing a riot, and they haven't even left the damn airport yet!

"Maybe I should let that ugly sumo wrestler sized Japanese guard that is heading over here give you mouth to mouth," he said with a deep chuckle right next to her ear again. Pay back for all the evil pranks she had played on him.

"Do not fear, Americans! I knows CPR!" the huge Japanese mammoth boomed as he approached the two agents. Natasha could tell Barton wasn't joking about the size of the man by the way each step he took towards her caused the entire floor to shake. Oh, fuck no – to _hell_ with being thorough.

"I'm alright!" Natasha gasped as she shot up and pretended to be dizzy as she grabbed her head and leaned heavily against her partner's shoulder as if she had just lost her balance. She gripped his hair tightly and held him in place.

"I will stab you, slowly and agonizingly with a dull butter knife, and have you screaming for _hours_ for death before I finally _gut_ you and send you to hell," she growled darkly in his ear, nearly causing him to pass out from the blood rapidly rushing south. Holy shit, _why does she do that to him?_

"Is everything alright, Sir?" the gentle giant security officer asked worriedly as he watched the American man pale considerably as he held a deeply breathing redhead in his arms. He misread her clenched jaw and harsh breath as aftereffects of the '_fainting spell'_ she just had. Clint knew she was just pissed.

"She's fine," he said in a strained voice as he quickly pulled her body away from his so that she couldn't whisper any more _dirty_ sounding threats in his ear. He easily rose to his feet, dragging her up with him and pretending to steady her for the audience's benefit. The crowd started to disperse when they realized she wasn't going to die today. Natasha nearly shot them all for their morbid curiosity.

"I think I can walk," she grumbled as she swatted her partner's hands away, patting down her rather messed up hair. The security guard gave her a wary look and opened his mouth to speak, but she was playing the needy airport lady.

"_Thank you_ for your concern, sir. I think I'll be fine from here," she said firmly. The security guard looked like he wanted to press the issues but her sharp look warded off any of his lingering concerns and he slowly nodded.

"Okay Ma'am – if you're sure…" he said, still sounding unconvinced. Oh, she was more than sure. Natasha gave him a pointed look, and was about to tell him to fuck off when she felt something sliding over her left shoulder, a familiar weight resting on her right one.

"Don't worry, big guy. I have her covered," Clint said with a confident smirk on his face as he leaned into her back. Natasha wanted to slam his smirking face into the ground, but if it would finally get the mammoth of a man away from her and her non-CPR requiring face she was all for it. The guard gave the pair of way too cozy looking foreigners one last wary look before shuffling away without another word. He would _never_ understand Americans. That left the two agents alone at last, no longer being the entire airport's center of attention. Natasha tensed as she felt a hand brush the edge of her shirt in a very _non_-platonic way. She narrowed her eyes.

"I thought I was your sister, Mr. Incest?" she growled irritably, shoving past him. Clint froze. Well, when she put it that way - it was _disgusting_.

"Ha ha, very funny Tasha," he said sarcastically as he dropped his arm from around her shoulder and picked up their previously forgotten mission gear. She spun around to shoot him a heated glare.

"Why did that take so long? You were almost _done_!" she asked irritably. She watched with suspicious eyes as a devious grin spread across his face as he slung both their bags over his shoulder.

"I was done 5 minutes ago – I was watching you act for entertainment," he said with a sneaky glint in his eyes. Natasha's eye twitched as her blood started to boil.

"Barton?" she said darkly. He suddenly felt a shiver run up his back – the threat was real this time. Uh oh.

"Yeah, Tasha?" he asked nervously, shifting away from her shaking form. She narrowed her eyes and cracked her knuckles threateningly. He paled – oh he was truly fucked.

"Run for your pathetic life," she ground out. Clint gulped and quickly dashed through the crowds of the airport as fast as his legs would carry him. They had an hour to kill anyway.

"You'll never catch me alive Romanoff!" he called over his shoulder as he wove strategically through the crowd. He heard an angry growl no less than a _foot_ behind him and he knew he was dead. He really needed to watch the wording of his statements. _Shit_.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Airport dramatics. How much are you willing to bet she is going to sock him in the face? Ha ha and for all your pessimists holding your breath for something to go wrong – when do things go wrong? Definitely not for at least the first half of the mission. Do calm down and enjoy their badass intelligence. Don't rush me haha.**


	60. Chapter 60

**I dare you**

**A/N: More airport shenanigans.**

**Chapter 60**

45 minutes later, two assassin were sitting at a cheap wooden table in front of some coffee shop in the airport, one sprouting a colorful black eye and a deep scowl, while the other looked way to smug with matching bruises on her knuckles, with said hand currently wrapped around a warm cup of coffee.

"Did you really have to sock me in the face Tasha?" he muttered as he held the ice pack over his injured eye. She gave him a sharp look.

"Be glad I didn't punch both your eyes out," she growled irritably. That's what he _gets_ for making her act for that long. Also…that had felt really good getting out of her system. He was so damn annoying sometimes. Clint gave her a sour look, still holding the ice pack to his face, before averting his gaze and stared at his own drink. She glanced down warily at the odd choice and furrowed her brow in confusion as she read the label.

"What's bubble tea?" she asked cautiously, taking a sip of her own, safer choice of beverage. He debated on whether he even wanted to carry out a polite conversation with her after she took a good swing at his face, but then grudgingly admitted to himself that he sort of deserved it for leaving her hanging for so long. He sighed.

"I have no idea. Somebody recommended this drink to try in Japan," he said, staring at the black balls of jelly bouncing around at the bottom of the flimsy plastic cup, submerged in an oddly thick brown liquid. On the whole, it looked pretty unappealing to his foreign eyes. She raised an eyebrow in question.

"I thought that was some sort of Taiwanese drink?" she asked warily. He paused and narrowed his eyes at the suspicious beverage.

"Apparently my source was not very good?" he said dryly, picking up the fruity tea drink and taking a sip, making a sour face instantly.

"Okay – he was a _really _bad source," he muttered, trying not to gag. She slowly passed him her cup of coffee, and he gratefully accepted it to wash out the bitter taste in his mouth. Ugh, that was _bad_. She cupped her chin in her hand, and tilted her head to the side as she watched him drink her coffee.

"Bet Coulson said that to spite you, eh?" she said dryly. He coughed into his hand as he took too big a sip, and didn't even bother to ask how she knew he was talking about Coulson. He needed to make more friends, damn it. The list was so short that he was desperate enough to include _Hill_ on it just to save his dignity. And wasn't she just his _favorite_ sadistic agent?

"He told me that a while ago, but I forget what I did to him to cause him to lie about this weird drink…" he grumbled, pushing her coffee cup back across the table. She rolled her eyes before she stared at the mug for a long moment.

"You know I didn't break any blood vessels when I punched you right? The bruising should be gone before tomorrow morning," she said quietly. He scoffed.

"Oh that's so considerate of you Tasha," he said sarcastically. She looked away from his scowling face and stared at the table between them. He promptly lost the scowl and furrowed his brow.

"Hey. Hey I was kidding Tasha. We both know I deserved your sucker punch with the side of mercy. I know you could have done a lot worse," he said, trying to cheer her up. She gripped her cup firmly with both hands and continued to stare at that table.

"You really like to push my buttons, Barton," she said with an odd tone in her voice. He gave her a searching look, but she didn't look up to allow him to confirm his suspicions.

"Yes, but don't you enjoy the fact that you're never bored?" he asked, giving her a weak smile. She _finally_ looked up and scowled at him.

"It's impossible to be bored when you're partners with a jackass," she muttered under her breath. He snorted.

"And yet you like to get frisky with this jackass too," he said airily. She narrowed her eyes and promptly kicked him in the shin.

"OH _FUCK_!" he cried in pain, wincing. Several pairs of eyes whipped to the side, staring at the source of the commotion. Natasha gave them all a bored look.

"He's being an asshole and impolite – what am I supposed to do?" she asked the general public. They all took one look at the man sitting across from the scowling redhead. He was definitely hurt, but wasn't getting up and walking away either– so they were one of _those_ couples.

"You never change, Romanoff – you're still a beast," he grumbled petulantly. She chuckled and took another sip of her coffee. Once upon a time she would've throw the entire thing into the trash just because he had taken a sip from it. Now that seemed kind of juvenile.

"I haven't heard that one in a while," she said with a wry smile. She watched as a mischievous glint entered his eyes, and she immediately narrowed her own.

"That's because my mouth has been bu-" he started to say, but was instantly cut off by her furious look.

"Finish that statement and I _will _punch your other eye out," Natasha growled in warning. He stared into her flashing eyes for a moment while trying to gauge just how serious she was. Then his gaze fell on the cup she was about to shatter in her death grip. Okay... he wasn't going to push his luck today.

"Pick a safer topic then?" he asked warily. She rolled her eyes.

"Our initial meet and greet with the Fujitsu executives is tomorrow morning," she said, throwing him a bone and save him from evoking her wrath.

"Damn. I hate those stuffy board meetings," he groaned, banging his forehead against the table. She ignored his dramatics and stared at the papers resting on the table beside his head.

"I highly doubt the chip is in the building," she said steadily. He paused and glanced up at her with a wary look.

"Then why are we still going through with the undercover plan?" he asked slowly. She took another sip of her coffee and gave him a pointed look.

"Because we are going to drop as many bugs on people that might be involved in the smuggling side of the business as possible," she said simply.

"So…flirting spree?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow. Natasha scoffed.

"I don't need to flirt with a target to get close enough to tag him. That's what fake clumsiness and handshakes are for," she said, insulted that he thought she actually needed to flirt outright to do those things. He shrugged.

"Flirting is more fun though," he said with a lazy grin. She gave him a puzzled look as she continued to sip her coffee. He wondered again what exactly she was thinking when she gave him one of those look.

"You know…I'm _pretty_ sure you would have been the player type if you had had a less traumatic childhood," she said slowly. She felt him grow quiet as he watched her with contemplative eyes.

"I'm glad I'm not that type. Flirting is fun, but I like flirting with you the best," he whispered softly. She paused as she stared at the ice pack he still had pressed against his face.

"We've never flirted Barton," she said slowly. He nearly burst out laughing right then and there – _was she serious?_

"_Liar_. We argued, insulted and ribbed each other for all we were worth right from the start, Tasha," he said dryly. She scoffed.

"That's not flirting," she said with a snort. He leaned back against his chair and gave her a pointed look.

"Yes, it is. So were our fights, and our sparing matches, and that race we had in Colombia," he said, reminiscing about other missions. She furrowed her brow.

"Barton, that classifies almost everything we do as flirting…" she said slowly. He suddenly grinned.

"Yup," he said simply. She stared at him, shocked by his blatant response. Was he serious? He cocked an eyebrow as she continued to stare at him, before she finally huffed and looked away. Weird ass flirting_ that_ was. She scanned the airport floor around them, and paused as her eyes fell on a small, lonely looking brunette sitting in the corner of the airport.

"How good are your pick up lines?" she asked suddenly. He paused, and gave her a funny look.

"Why…?" he asked, suspicious.

"There's a young American brunette sitting on a red suitcase trying not to cry behind you, beside that phone booth. She looks like she needs one," she said, giving the girl a careful look. She couldn't have been older than 16. Clint paused at her strange request.

"Are you serious?" he asked slowly. She raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"Are you too chicken, Barton?" she asked dryly. He scowled at her as he instantly stood up and dropped the ice pack onto the table in front of her.

"You and your damn weird whims, woman," he grumbled, stalking around their table, making his way towards the sniffling girl. Natasha leaned her head against her fist and watched in blatant curiosity as her partner took a seat beside the girl. She watched him try to strike up a conversation, but the brunette suddenly shook her head and pointed at her ears, before she making intricate hand gestures at him.

Natasha thought he would give up at that point, but she was immensely surprised when he actually looked like he understood the girl. Suddenly, he stopped talking with his mouth and signed something back to her with practiced hand gestures. Natasha watched as the girl blinked in surprise as well, before she wiped her puffy eyes, taking a deep breath and signing something half-heartedly.

Natasha watched as Clint stared at the girls '_words'_ for several moments before signing something back carefully, making sure she understood him properly. The girl sighed and shook her head. Clint signed something else, and the girl blinked again before responding. Natasha watched Clint snort before he signed his reply. Natasha raised an eyebrow as she watched the girl laugh quietly and sign something to him, while smiling this time. She noticed his expression soften slightly as he curled his left hand into a fist with his thumb sticking out, brushed his cheek twice, then tapped his two pointer fingers together and suddenly pointed directly at her. Now she wondered _what the hell_ he was saying exactly.

She paused at they both looked over and waved. She hesitantly raised her coffee cup in acknowledgement. Well, this was just brutally awkward, and not at all what she was going for. Apparently Barton had a knack for befriending every _single_ broken girl he meets. She was starting to see a pattern… a very alarming pattern. The only difference was that apparently he liked _her_ a bit differently than all the rest. She didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

She watched as Barton and the girl both stood up. He signed something to her before tapping his forefinger against her forehead. The girl scowled and crossed her arms, adamantly shaking her head. Barton signed something else, and waited patiently for the girl to respond. She stared at his hands for a long moment, before she finally sighed and nodded. Clint helped her pull her red suitcase upright and patted her on the head. She scowled at him again, but Natasha could tell she signed something nice before she waved and walked away. Clint waved back before he turned around and finally locked eyes with _her_. Well, that was not what she was expecting at all.

"_That_ looked interesting," she said lightly as he approached. He scowled at her causal tone and took his original seat across from her.

"Yeah, I bet," he grumbled distractedly as they watched the girl walk over to the help desk and started writing something across a piece of paper for the service lady to read. Imagine what the girl would think if she ever found out that an assassin with a dripping red ledger was the one who was trying to cheer her up.

"What did you guys talk about?" Natasha asked nonchalantly. Clint shrugged.

"She was deaf. She's going to get someone to call her family right now. At first I told her she was too pretty to be wasting her tears on whatever was getting her down. It ended up being a boy - _obviously_. I told her boys were _stupid_ and couldn't see a good thing until it was gone," he said dryly. Natasha raised an eyebrow.

"How did she take that coming from _you?"_ she asked, letting her eyes rack over his obviously masculine body. She didn't particularly make it a habit to stare at her partner's more then just fit body - it was a dangerous distraction sometimes. She indulged herself for a moment, glancing at his well-toned chest, and when she looked back up she was slightly surprised to see his pupils had darkened in a familiar way, and he wasn't breathing evenly anymore. He had noticed her casual appreciative looks.

"As well as could be expected. She asked me if I was aware that I was a boy. I told her I wasn't a stupid boy – I was a _man_. There's a difference. Then she asked me whom I was here with...so I pointed you out," he said quietly as the heated look in his eyes faded. An airport was not the place to be having those kinds of thoughts about his partner. Natasha knew right away he had edited some things out in his little reiteration, but doubted she could bully it out of him. Maybe she could get him to tell her later.

"How do you know sign language?" she asked curiously. He paused as he tried to find the right words.

"I…I used to be partially deaf..." he said slowly. He watched her face carefully but saw no judgments. He should really stop doubting her impartiality to issues like this, since she had already seen him in several of the worst breakdowns of his life over the last few months. A past disability was probably nothing hard for her to accept at this point.

"What about now?" she asked, wrapping her hands around her still warm cup of coffee. He shrugged half-heartedly.

"SHIELD forced me to undergo corrective surgery before being instigated into the organization," he said, simply tapping the side of his head near his ears. It was just a fact. Natasha furrowed her borrow.

"Is it permanent?" she asked carefully. He nodded slowly.

"Pretty permanent. I haven't really had any problems unless I'm around seriously strong magnets. The metal pieces in my skull are annoying sometimes," he grumbled irritably. Natasha stared at the table for several moments. She can't believe she never saw this- but then again Barton was good at hiding what he didn't want anyone to see… even from her.

"Your turn," he said suddenly, breaking into her thoughts. She took a moment to register what exactly he was talking about and then chuckled.

"You really want me to pick someone up at an international airport Barton?" she asked with cocked eyebrow. He scowled at her.

"You forced _me _to do it woman," he said gruffly. She rolled her eyes.

"She looked like she needed the boost," she muttered. Clint gave his partner a wary look.

"I think you're losing your badass touch Tasha. Are you offering up your boyfriend's brilliant skills to any teary eyed girls sitting alone in airports now, huh?" he said dryly. They both froze as he accidentally used the word they had been adamantly avoiding these last few days. They stared at each other for several moments as a tense silence hung in the air between them. Natasha finally took a deep breath and narrowed her eyes.

"You are _not_ my boyfriend," she said steadily. He tensed, but felt immensely proud of himself when he took her denial in stride, and didn't flip his shit the way he felt like doing deep, deep, _deep_ down. _Very_ deep down he wanted to strangle her just like she was strangling his heart at the moment.

"What am I then, Tasha?" he asked quietly, leaning forward and staring at her dead in the eye. She held her ground and stared back at him with her razor sharp green eyes.

"I don't know, but definitely not _that_," she said tightly. He took a deep breath through his nose to keep his anger in check.

"I think I deserve to have a definite title, Tasha," he said slowly. She clenched her jaw in frustration. Why did he have to go and ruin _everything_?

"What is it with you and labels Barton?" she growled. He shot her a disbelieving look.

"Me? What is _your_ problem with labels?" he shot back. She narrowed her eyes.

"You're my partner Barton – isn't that good enough?" she said tightly. He shook his head furiously.

"No. It's _not_ Tasha," he said firmly – because they weren't just partners. _Not if you let me kiss you, not if you let me hold you when you have nightmares, not if you feel the same things I feel._

"Well, too bad, because you're going to have to deal with it," she ground out. Clint grit his teeth, and finally lost control over his seething anger.

"Damn it Tasha, sometimes I feel like I'm some sort of _toy_! Are you using me? Are you just messing around with me? Am I some dirty little secret?" he growled in annoyance. Why did she have to go and make everything so damn difficult? Natasha clenched her right hand into a fist and slammed her cup down onto the table between them.

"You _are_ a secret! Aren't we some sort of damn clandestine hoax? Hiding everything from SHIELD just so we don't lose our jobs?" she spat angrily, looking away from his silently shaking body.

"If there was any other option Tasha-" he started to say but she cut him off instantly with a sharp look.

"There _are_ no options Barton," she said tightly. He narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Then tell me Tasha. Why are you still here? Why are you still living this lie?" he asked tightly. She tensed and tore her eyes away from his piercing gaze. Fuck.

"What do you mean, my flight has been double booked?" someone shouted in outrage not too far away from them at the check in counter.

Clint tensed up as well, already wound tight as a spring. Damn it.

"Time to work," she said quietly, rising to her feet and walking away from their table, her coffee long forgotten, as she searched the crowd at the check in counter for their target. She felt a familiar body lean against her back, and grit her teeth in irritation.

"You can't always hide behind your job, Natasha. Sooner or later you're going to have to accept _all_ of me – or none at all. I don't work in pieces Tasha," he whispered in her ear as they watched their target's father plead with the airport official. They watched as he sighed in defeat and picked up his bag, heading back out of the busy international airport.

"Don't make me make that choice Barton – you might not like my answer," she said stiffly, pushing past him and followed after the man that would lead them to their target. They both glared daggers at random objects, refusing to meet the other's eye. Seiko Takashi was going to get one hell of a surprise tonight, in the form of two equally pissed assassins. She drove him up a wall with her denial of every little thing that made them real. He royally pissed her off with his need to make things way too serious, way too fast. They had to take their frustration out on someone, right?

Poor sucker wouldn't even know what hit him.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Ouch! Barton did **_**not **_**get the response he wanted! Tension in the brilliant assassination team right before their assassination? However will they cope?**

**Anyway airport shenanigans aside – I am only 12 reviews away from hitting****1000****reviews guys! OMG! OMG! O.O Wanna help me out again please? haha.**

**Apparently there is always new things to learn about clintasha even after 200,000 words of their partnership -****isn't that crazy?****THEY ARE SO DAMN COMPLEX! The next chapter is going to be darker as we really start diving into this mission. But until then let me know what you thought of this story so far?**


	61. Chapter 61

**I dare you **

**A/N: Time to leave the airport - aka time to leave fluffville behind. INTENSITY TIME! **

**Chapter 61**

Natasha and Clint had successful hijacked one of the most expensive cars they could manage out of the vehicles that were sitting idly on the arrivals lane as families and friends embraced on the sidewalk. They always made sure to only steal cars from people who could easily buy another. They followed their target's father that had gotten into a taxicab from several yards back as they slowly made their way through boring downtown Tokyo traffic.

Natasha was currently driving and would be the designated driver for the duration of this mission because Barton couldn't read shit in Japanese - another reason he was going to be studying in his free time from now on.

"Teach me Japanese," he said suddenly turning to look at his partner with a determined look. She didn't tear her sharp eyes away from the taxi they were following, but that didn't mean she couldn't answer his rather abrupt demand.

"_Now_? Barton we're kind of busy at the moment," Natasha said carefully. Clint scowled at her and shook his head.

"Of course not right now Tasha - some time later. Or even after the mission - I really don't care. Just teach me," he said seriously. Natasha furrowed her brow with her eyes still trained ahead of her.

"Why do you want to learn so badly Barton?" she asked slowly - there was something more than just the desire to learn a new language in his words. Clint clenched his currently not in use rough archer hands into tight fists as his eyes darkened.

"I hate feeling incompetent," he muttered under his breath. Natasha felt the lingering questions fade from her mind as he honestly admitted why he needed to learn. She was silent for a few moments before she finally spoke.

"You know, most of the world has the impression that Americans are lazy, unmotivated and can't be bothered to take their heads out of their ass and realize that the world is bigger than their little patriotic piece of dirt," she said steadily. Clint stared at her for several moments as her rather harsh but slightly truthful words rang in his ears.

"Okay. But what do _you_ think Tasha?" he asked quietly. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel in front of her and steeled her eyes. She wasn't afraid to tell him what she thinks.

"I think your country has _plenty_ of overinflated egos and tiny brains. I think your people undervalue the resources and privileges you have in this country. I think democracy is a joke and communism is just its brother in terms of how many lies its spews to its people. I think some of the worst criminals in the world came from the scum under America's shiny boot...but there are always exceptions," she said stiffly but in a more polite way then she _could_ have said that statement. He knew she just meant she thought Americans in general were loud obnoxiously annoying pieces of shit - but then she apparently did not think that of every single last one of them. He felt his heart warm against his will to know he was probably at the top of her ok list.

"America is one of those countries that likes to think we have it all figured out - but we don't Tasha. Several million Americans live in poverty, we deal with recession, we have natural disasters, we have a shit load of political scandals and our private medical system practically destroys people's lives. First world, second world, third world - it means nothing, because regardless of what country it is - you are either born into a shitty situation or you're not," he said steadily. She finally tore her eyes away from the target they were trailing and locked eyes with her partner with an intensity that he felt hit him right in the center of his chest burning in her green eyes.

They both knew they came from different countries, different pasts, and different worlds. But that didn't mean they couldn't reach out and understand each other. It didn't mean they couldn't relate to one another and the traumatic experiences they had in their respective childhood. It didn't mean they couldn't have a future that might include the other in it.

"The fact that Russia is in a shit state is a _given_," she suddenly muttered trying to lighten the oppressing mood that suddenly hung around them. He gave her a crooked smile as he watched her blink away the emotions in her eyes and calmly turn back to watch to road and their current target.

"Russia might be going down the drain Tasha, but I don't think you should you should judge someone based on their country's mistakes," he said seriously. People were too complex to just generalize them based on the soil they were born on. Natasha was silent as she watched the taxi with their target's father pull off the brightly lit highway and drive down an inner side street. She eased their car down the diverging exit and continued to follow at a distance. She took a deep breath and finally responded.

"Most people do. Most people find it easier to judge someone based on their national stereotype - it's just faster and easier," she said without a hint of bitterness. She was tired of being bitter. She accepted that the world was simply an unfair battleground for the strong to prey on the weak and the clever to use the dimwitted. It was a place where the intelligent ones barely managed to avoid the unpleasant pitfalls that spring up in life and where the poor got poorer and the rich got richer. It was a place where old national animosity is so deeply imbedded in some people's psyche that they can't see past the colour of your skin or the accent you may or may not carry.

"But _I'm_ not most people Natasha," he whispered softly. He saw _so_ much more than just a broken defected Russian assassin. She didn't visibly react but he looked passed her blank facial expression and focused on her eyes and her entire demeanor. She could say _so_ much without showing a single emotion on her face.

"Maybe you're not Barton. Maybe you're different. But the world hasn't changed Barton. The world doesn't forget. The world doesn't forgive as easily as you can. I defected from Russia for my _own_ benefit - but that also meant I lost the only place I could possibly belong to. America will _never_ be my home Clint. I'm…I'm a stranger in a land full of strangers," she said quietly gripping the steering wheel tighter as she felt the wheels in his head turn rapidly. She knew he was trying to understand her way of thinking. He was trying to understand how her psyche worked to end up at that conclusion. She knew he was trying not to judge her and it made her feel like someone _finally_ gave two shits about what she thought for once.

She spent 20 _years_ in Russia - as terrible as those years were she's never known anything else. Her life had been a blur of red until she met him. He filled her life with more than just assignments that led to even more bloodshed. He pissed her off yes – but he filled her world with stupid things like chocolate and coffee, his many past rumbles with other agents, his stupid spontaneous plans, his shitty attempts at jokes, his constant chatter, his overwhelming emotions, his warm smiles, his kisses, his touch, his soft expressions– it was all so much and so overpowering to her senses, sometimes she didn't know how to make sense of _any_ of it.

"Do we all feel like strangers to you?" he asked quietly reaching out and gently resting his palm against her cool cheek. She resisted the urge to lean into his touch and focused on the taxi ahead of them that suddenly curved off the main road and started driving through the dense shady suburbs of Tokyo. The streets were darker, the street lights appeared less often, the night air was stale and silent. They were about to reach their destination - they could feel it.

"Sometimes...sometimes I feel like a stranger in my own body," she said emptily. Clint gave her a sad knowing look and gently brushed his thumb against her soft cheek. He knows how she feels.

"I think the longer you have control over your own body the less foreign it will feel. We all feel uncomfortable in our own skin sometimes Tasha," he whispered softly. She felt his calming words wash over her - but _just_ words couldn't change how she feels. Nothing could change something buried that deep except time. She decided to change the topic before he started to push more than she was ready to give.

"You know a few decades ago we'd have way more problems than just the danger of losing our jobs because of this right?" Natasha said warily. Clint's face suddenly darkened.

"I'm glad we don't live in cold war times Tasha," he said seriously. Natasha looked up at her rear view mirror and readjusted it as she felt his heavy gaze on her, waiting for her response.

"We would never have met in cold war times," she said quietly. He tensed but made sure he had a good handle on his temper - he wasn't going to freak out over something hypothetical. He had her here and now - no impossible scenario would change that.

"Why is that?" he asked carefully. She took a steady breath as she kept her eyes trained in front of her.

"Because the only thing Russian female spies were used for back then was messy suicide missions," she said simply. She would've been dead long before she had the chance to meet a merciful archer. Clint closed his eyes and took several deep breaths as he gripped the edge of his seat. He's never been afraid of death or people dying. He was an assassin - he was immune to feeling anything towards death. Or he thought he was - now he thinks he found a person whose death would mentally unhinge him. He's gone and made Natasha Romanoff his ultimate downfall - wasn't that just a pleasant thought?

"Then I'm _really_ glad we don't live in those times Tasha," he said fervently as he finally opened his eyes and gave her a determined look. _He wasn't ever going to let her die - not as long as he was still breathing. _

Natasha noticed the peculiar look in his eyes and slowly shook her head.

"Don't be rash Barton," she said cautiously. He felt his jaw tighten as he gave her a heated look.

"_Don't_ tell me what to do," he growled warningly. He never did something he didn't want to do. If she was the only person in the world he would die for he could deal with it. If she had a problem with him feeling that way she could go fuck _off_. As contradicting as that thought was, it was a testament to how complex his feelings towards Natasha Romanoff truly were.

Natasha narrowed her eyes and was about to rebuke him with brutally sharp words when she saw the taxi they had been following for the better part of an hour finally come to a stop 500 feet ahead of them beside a shady rundown two story apartment with smashed windows and dimly flickering lights – the only proof that it was even inhabited by living souls. She promptly killed the engine and shut off their headlights so that they were basked in darkness of the unbearably empty silent street.

They both had the feeling they were in one of the _worst_ parts of the Tokyo slums and it was a little unnerving that the only person they could make out was the silhouette of the father they had been tracking in the suffocating darkness around them. They held their breath as they watched him tiredly drag himself out of the cab he had used to get to this sad part of town before he lugged his older body down a beaten path that led into a seriously neglected apartment building. They watched as the taxi driver slammed his foot on the gas and zoomed out of there like the devil was on his heels – smart man. Natasha took a deep breath as she felt the oppressing silence from the street start to fill their car.

"This place gives me the creeps," Clint said cautiously. Natasha snorted.

"No _shit_," she muttered as she unlocked her door and shoved it open. Clint quickly grabbed her hand before she climbed out all the way. She looked back at the arm wrapped arm her wrist and glanced up at his cautious blue eyes.

"Do we have a plan?" he asked slowly. She gave him a dry look.

"Barton, if Takashi is there I'm going to have one less bullet in my gun tonight. If he's not we're getting the hell out of here," Natasha said simply before she ripped her arm out of his careful grip and stepped out of the car before she quietly shut the door behind her. Clint sighed and climbed out of the car as well. She was so damn bold sometimes.

"Not in the mood for stealth tonight are you Romanoff?" he muttered as he walked around the car to stand beside her as she scanned the empty street.

"No, I'm always in the mood for stealth. That's why I'm going to follow Takashi senior through the building and you're going to scale the side window and make your surprise entrance when I need you to," Natasha said calmly. Clint blinked – how the hell was that not a fully thought out plan?

"_Wait_ – you want to go in there alone-" he started to say as he replayed her words in his head but stopped talking when she instantly went rigid.

"If you dare finish that thought I will shoot you _right now_ and walk away," Natasha said dangerously. She wasn't joking. If he treated her like she was some weak damsel that always needed to be protected she was done here. She _would_ walk away from him. Clint clenched his jaw and kept his anger in check as he read all of this in her flashing green eyes.

"Don't you think that is a little rash Romanoff?" he said through clenched teeth. She glared daggers at him.

"No. Get off my ass Barton and trust my field skills for once," she grounded out. Clint gave her a firm look.

"I _do_ trust you Tasha," he said carefully. She took a steady breath and shook her head.

"Don't call me Tasha," she said stiffly. He paused. She has never said that before. _Never_.

"Why?" he asked slowly. He watched her pull her gun out of her back pocket and smack the safe off.

"Because if I'm about to shoot the crap out of an annoying piece of shit – I'd prefer not to be…" she trailed off as she tried to find the right words to explain what she meant. He gave her a wary look as he caught onto her line of thinking.

"…you think Tasha is too human," he finished for her. Her expression hardened and she leveled him with a sharp look. He got the message loud and clear. She wasn't Tasha when she killed people. She was agent Romanoff and definitely not the girl he was slowly starting to feel like he couldn't live without. He felt something heavy deepen in his chest everyday he spent with her and he had a strange inkling he didn't want to identity what that deep aching feeling was exactly – he's scared she might stab him.

"Let's move before someone ends up dead before they are supposed to," Natasha said brushing passed him and swiftly walked right up the building and yanked the front door open. If she heard him whisper '_be careful'_ as she disappeared through the entrance she didn't let it show.

Natasha slowly made her way down a dimly lit hall and carefully climbed the only staircase at the end of the hall. She heard muffled shuffling on the second floor and cautiously leaned against the side of the staircase wall as she took a steady breath before she peaked around the corner. She watched Takashi senior tiredly rub his face before he banged his fist against a heavily scratched up door.

They both waited as they heard a loud _thump_ as something hit the floor behind the apartment walls before a clear stomping sound got louder until it stopped right behind the front door which suddenly ripped open to reveal a disheveled, bleary eyed familiar Japanese young man Natasha only recognized through photos – but that was enough. It was Seiko Takashi.

_Busted_.

"_I thought I told you to leave the country old man?"_ the boy growled in Japanese as he shook in place with barely repressed rage when he laid eyes on his ragged looking grey hair father.

"_But son – my flight!"_ the father pleaded but the half-crazed looking boy didn't look like he gave a _shit_ as he swung his arm back and _socked_ his own father in the face.

"_You're such a pain in my ass kusojijii!" _he roared with utter hatred burning in his eyes.

Natasha didn't flinch as she watched the elderly father hit the ground with a sickening _thud_ – but she _did_ tighten her grip around the trigger of her gun. Oh someone was _definitely_ going to die tonight. Punching elderly people was not something she endorsed.

"_My son! What have you become?"_ the father asked in disappointment as he held his bruised face in pain. The target spat on the ground beside his pathetic father and whipped out his own gun. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"_None of your damn business!" _he hissed. The father shook his head sadly.

"_One day you will have to pay for the things you have done Seiko,"_ the father said solemnly. The son scoffed.

"_I'll deal with that when it gets here!" _Seiko growled viciously.

"_One day someone is going to point a gun back at you son. What will you do then?" _the father whispered.

Natasha gripped her gun tighter. One day was pretty damn soon.

"_Shut the fuck up!"_ the unstable boy shouted with a hint of fear in his voice as he stumbled back against his door and accidentally pulled the trigger in his hand.

_BANG_!

Seiko froze as he stared at his father's shocked expression before he watched his old man collapse to the floor in front of him. He felt his breathing rate spiked as his mind started to break at what he just did.

"_Damn it!"_ he shouted in anger before he dropped the gun in his hand like it was on fire and ran into his apartment while slamming the door shut on his father's pale face. Natasha had _enough_.

She angrily clenched and unclenched her hand around her _own_ gun as she stalked down the hall towards the gasping father and was about to force her way into the bastard's apartment when something inside of her made her stop and look down at the dying man. She wasn't disturbed by dying men. She felt herself momentarily halt her blinding rage and an artificial calm washed over her.

"_There's mercy in death,"_ Natasha said quietly in well-practiced Japanese as she crouched down beside the dying man's broken body.

"_I-I my son-" _he croaked as the blood filled his mouth. Natasha had never been trained to feel sympathy – but she understood mercy now. If only because Barton taught her that.

"_Your son killed you – not me,"_ Natasha said quietly as she levelled her gun with his chest. He would be internally bleeding to death for at least another half hour if she didn't do anything. She couldn't save him like Barton saved her– but she could end his pain.

"_Прости меня пожалуйста," _she whispered in Russian before she promptly pulled the trigger and watched the life fade from his old eyes that had experienced too much pain from his only son. She felt the blood from his two bullet wounds soak the floor and her dark jean-clad knees. She sat there for a few moments while staring at her very first mercy kill.

"I don't know if that is kind of you or just down right disturbing," a familiar voice said quietly to her left. She pulled her gun back and looked out the window to lock eyes with her solemn looking partner who was perched on the ledge of the window.

"I told you to wait outside his apartment window – not here," Natasha said coldly as she stood up with red stains covering her jeans and a steeled look in her eyes. He continued to watch her with wary eyes as she breathed steadily while clutching her gun in her right hand. She was waiting for him to leave before she made her move. His partner was truly a terrifying force to be reckoned with. He has never met anyone quite like her. He doubted he ever will.

"Every day you surprise me Natasha Romanoff," he said quietly before he slipped out of sight. Every day she reminds him how lucky he is that she _chooses_ to keep him around instead of ending his life. The second he was gone she spun around to face the door she was going to break down and beat the shit out of her _real_ target.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Maybe killing the old man was not the right thing to do – but I think it was a Natasha thing to do. This was a **_**heavy**_** chapter. Just wait until it gets worse. haha. A lot, lot worse. **

**I love fluff – but they are **_**really**_** damn good partners. I love their partnership just as much as I love their relationship. They make the intense dynamic between them so amazing! **

**Lesson #2: No matter how much humanity you see in someone- _never_ forget that they are hard core assassins. **

**Thank you for making this fic the first Clintasha fic to reach 1,000 reviews! **


	62. Chapter 62

**I dare you **

**A/N: And so the suspense rises. And it will keep rising. Especially when you start learning about the not so good side of our lovely Russian. Everyone has a dark side. A side that is seriously not good to have. **

**Chapter 62**

Natasha took a deep breath and shot the lock off Seiko Takashi's apartment door and roughly kicked it opened with enough force that the door slammed into the side wall and nearly ripped _right_ off its hinges. She stalked into the dull apartment and zeroed in on the shaking boy sitting on his bed at the end of a narrow hall. He froze and looked up when he heard the commotion she was causing and his eyes instantly went cold like she knew the eyes of a killer do – she was one herself after all.

"Hey – what the _hell_?" he shouted as he stood up and held his ground. She was too pissed to even considering playing down her fury and letting him even _think_ he had the upper hand. She was _done_ with playing the underestimated woman.

"What kind of sick _stupid_ bastard accidentally shoots his own father? If you don't know how to handle a gun _DON'T USE IT_!" Natasha shouted as she practically charged the shaken Japanese boy and shoved him into a wall. Takashi was momentarily stunned by the beautiful enraged redhead who had him pressed up against his own bedroom wall – too bad she had a gun threateningly aimed at his head too. He would've enjoyed her.

"Who the _fuck_ are you?" he asked reverting to anger before any other emotions could take over. Natasha gritted her teeth as she read all his filthy disgusting thoughts flashing through his typical male mind. She hated men so _god damn_ much! She shoved her gun harder into his skull and leaned forward threateningly.

"_I am your father's reckoning brought to life,_" she whispered in his ear in perfect Japanese and she smirked darkly as she felt him grow still as her terrifying words washed over him in his mother tongue. She felt like playing with him. She felt like strapping his in chains and punching the crap out of him for being such a _stupid_ little boy. She felt like taking one of the many knives she had strapped to her body and craving '_stupidity_' into his skin _in Russian_. She felt like slamming his head repeatedly against the wall and demanding why the fuck he would get tangled up with the largest gang in Japan, steal from one of the most dangerous secret intelligence organizations in the world and then land himself on their number 1 hit list. Because the people who end up on the Black Widow and Hawkeye ledger are destined for _hell_.

"You're just a woman!" he cried in a failed attempt at regaining some of his masculine wits. Natasha suddenly felt something _crack_ as she heard the same line she has been listening to since the day she was born. _Just a woman._ Such a brutal cold smile spread across the redhead's face that Takashi felt like he was staring the devil right in the face.

"Am I? Am I just a woman?" she whispered tilting her head to the side in fake innocence as a knife materialized in her hand and instantly left a trail of blood on his neck. Takashi froze as true fear started clawing at his lungs.

"You-you-" sputtered in terror as he saw the dark promises in her eyes and felt the knife being dragged down his chest and cutting his shirt in half along with it. He felt the terror skyrocket in his body.

"Oh poor thing - cat got your tongue?" she whispered with a devious smirk tugging at her lips. Takashi looked like he was just going to _faint_ right then and there.

"Does this mean you're not going to talk?" she asked with a pretty sigh as she tapped him against the cheek with the edge of her razor sharp knife. She paused as she realized she was treating him like one of her past assignments back in Russia. She felt the need to hurt the trembling kid so strongly she could practically _taste_ it at the back of her throat. She tensed as she watched a horde of suffocating memories of her torturing her past targets flash across her vision and the sheer rush of power that came along with it almost made her revert back to autopilot and retreat to the same mental haven she created for herself years ago.

But then she remembered she had a partner who was carefully watching her work. She didn't think he would approve of her less than humane methods of interrogation. Sometimes she used to spend _hours_ torturing her targets – she used to be ordered to drive them to the brink of insane before she was finally allowed to end their life. She used to reduce strong men to a sobbing mess and had them begging for death as she tortured them with knives, guns, sex, - whatever the Red Room asked of her she fulfilled. For her own sanity she learned to accept that role she was forced into as something normal – something sane. She could do whatever the _hell_ she wanted to her targets in the past – she didn't think she had the same freedom now. She considered what that meant for her very, very _real_ sadistic side. Sure she teased her partner with harmless jokes and was a little more rough then normal when she kissed him – but he had no _idea_ of the pain she's caused with her own bare hands. He had no idea she had to force herself to think that it was okay – that she might even enjoy it. Dealing out pain when all she felt was echoing pain back in Russia – _that_ was how she survived the madness.

But if she had Barton she could live with the fact she would have to learn to seriously repress that side of her. As long as she had him she was willing to try and not let herself enjoy hearing men scream like she used to.

So she let go of her death grip of Takashi and allowed him to frantically flail around and grab his own gun at lightning speed before spinning around and shoving _her_ against the wall. She decided she wouldn't carry out this interrogation by herself – she didn't trust herself alone with the target. Not anymore. She knew _he_ would come in and deal with this now. She was done.

"Why the _fuck_ do you look so calm?" Takashi shouted in rage as he dug his gun into her forehead. This woman _pissed_ him off with her cool attitude. Natasha waited patiently as she watched the anger flash across her target's eyes and he bared his teeth at her. She wanted to punch him in the face and knock every _single_ last one of his ugly yellow teeth out. She wanted to break his jaw in half and make him scream in agony. She wanted to steal his own gun out of his hand and forcefully shove it down his throat before she happily pulled the trigger. She could acknowledge the fact that she wasn't in the right mindset to do this on her own right now. She might do something she would regret. Actually that was a lie - she would do something _he_ would want her to regret.

But she was an assassin who lived with no regrets.

"Talk _damn it_! Why did you suddenly decide to stop torturing me? Why aren't you scared damn it?" Takashi shouted in her face. She just narrowed her eyes and waited – she didn't have to wait much longer.

"Because she's _never_ alone Takashi," a dangerous dark voice said from behind him as a sharp metal object dug into the back of _his_ head. The thief tensed as he locked eyes with a blank faced Natasha Romanoff – right before she finally stopped holding back and _socked_ him in the face - hard enough that he black out for a second. The two agents watched the boy collapse to the floor between them. Both their eyes shot up and locked with each other's. In their entire partnership Natasha has _never_ asked him to come run interference with her interrogation work.

"Natasha-" Clint started to say seriously but she shot him a burning look that stopped the words in his mouth.

"Not _now_ Barton," she growled locking away all the _shit_ she was feeling to deal with later. She stepped away the wall and ignored the bruise forming on her forehead – it would be gone within the hour. She felt her partner roughly grab her by the forearm and spin her around to face him and his flashing eyes – he was beyond concerned – he was downright _alarmed_.

"Natasha you're not okay!" he shouted in frustration. Natasha narrowed her eyes and tried to roughly rip her arm away from his grasp.

"I'm _fine_ Barton!" she spat. He gave her a disbelieving look. He didn't believe her_ utter bullshit._

"No – you're _not_! Otherwise you wouldn't have practically screamed with your actions to tell me to come in here!" he growled firmly. Natasha _never_ needed him during an interrogation – that was her specialty. She knew she was good at it – the problem was she was _too_ good at breaking people - it was screwing with her head.

"God damn it - are you two like a fucking married couple or something? You're so damn _loud_!" a familiar annoying voice broke into their momentary bubble of mutual anger. Now was not the time to be anything more than dangerously efficient partners – but she was scaring the shit out of him.

Clint ignored the target as he watched Natasha's green eyes darken to the point where they were nearly _black_. Holy _shit_ something was seriously wrong. He knew she was just hiding it when she blinked and the slightly more than a little sadistic look in her eyes was gone. That or it was gone because he was here. He had no idea. He had no idea what was going on with her.

"Natasha tell me what-" he started to demand.

"Clint?" she interrupted with an alarmingly calm expression on her face - it scared him even more because he could tell it was real. She was calm but she was so fucking _not_ okay. The fact that she used his _real_ name here of all places nearly caused him to have a heart attack.

"What Natasha?" he whispered begging her to tell him what was wrong.

"Can you just...stand here?" she asked slowly. He froze and gave her seriously confused look. He has never seen her like this. She wasn't acting like herself at _all_.

He wondered offhandedly what a breakdown for Natasha Romanoff looked like. He had the strange feeling he was going to find out very soon.

"Okay..." he said slowly. She tugged her arms out of his loose grasp and lightly shoved him towards the side before she spun around as a cold and merciless expression melted over her face. Now she could interrogate the bastard without the fear she was going to cut him into pieces.

"You pissed off the wrong organization Seiko Takashi!" Natasha growled as she whipped out her gun and shoved it into his face. Takashi blinked at the suddenly 180 degrees change in the crazy redhead. _What the fuck?_

"Shut up! You're such a fucked up bitch!" Takashi growled as he backed away from her gun. She just took several menacing steps forwards until she had him backed up against the wall all over again - except this time she knew someone would stop her if she took things too far.

"_Your father is dead and you killed him!"_ Natasha spat in angry Japanese. She felt the edge of the madness in her mind recede as she kept her silent partner in sight as she worked. Well this was going to be a damn _problem_ in the future.

"_It was an accident!"_ Takashi shouted in outrage. Natasha pistol whipped him into silence and narrowed her eyes. She could have done so much worse to the little bastard – he was so damn _lucky_ she brought her partner in here. _So fucking lucky._

"Where the _fuck_ is the chip you stole you little bastard?" Natasha growled with murder burning in her eyes. If only it was just murder and not something so much worse. Takashi spat in her face and she narrowed her eyes as the spit slid down her cheek. She punched him hard enough that he really did nearly break his jaw and watched him bang his face in the wall with a sickening _crack_.

"Fuck you woman!" Takashi cried in pain.

"Answer my question damn it!" Natasha demanded while holding her gun leveled with his forehead. Takashi glared at her fiercely.

"I don't _know_ where the chip is! I don't have it!" Takashi hissed. Natasha narrowed her eyes in barely suppressed rage.

"Who did you give it to?" she asked darkly. Takashi spat a mouth full of blood onto the ground and glared daggers at her.

"Why should I tell you?" he growled angrily. Her eyes darkened and she felt her partner hovering in her peripheral vision – smart man. She knew she stayed partners with him for a reason.

"Because boy you should be so scared of me and what I could do to you if he steps out of this room for even a _second_," Natasha spoke lowly and with dire intent. Takashi paled as he saw the very real threat in her eyes and pressed himself back against the wall in fear.

"You're insane!" he shouted. Natasha chuckled darkly.

"Yeah I kind of figured that out myself thank you for reinforcing the obvious," she spat as she dug her gun harder into his head. Takashi frantically glanced around for a way out – but there was no way to escape from the seriously _terrifying_ Russian.

"I can't tell you anything. You have no idea the shit I have done and the people who would be after me if I talked!" he exclaimed angrily. Natasha gritted her teeth in frustration.

"Takashi – either you're going to die screaming or you are going to die silently – take your pick. And if you don't choose – _I'll choose for you_," she whispered menacingly.

"I'm not afraid to die!" he growled. Natasha's eyes darkened.

"Boy – death is not the only thing to fear in the world," she whispered intimidatingly. She watched as her words seemed to trigger something in his head because he suddenly paled as he slid down the wall looking like a ghost.

"_I know that. So many lives I ruined. So many women and children's lives I destroyed_," he whispered in his mother tongue falling to his knees. Natasha scoffed. He was losing it over just that?

"Get _over_ yourself Takashi – you're not the only assassin in the world. You're not the only one who killed innocent people," she spat. The agents tensed as they watched the half crazed man laugh brokenly.

"_I wish I killed them. I did something so much worse. Do you know what's worse than death Natasha Romanoff?"_ Seiko whispered staring at her with hooded eyes. She tensed – how the _fuck_ did he know her name? She can only think of a million things worse than death. She has done a million things to people that are considered worse than death. The two agents both froze as they watched Takashi pulled a gun out of his back pocket and point it to his head - _shit_.

"Don't you dare Takashi," Natasha said warningly. Takashi laughed humorlessly. He killed his own father - he had no one left to live for. If he was going to die – it wasn't going to be by _her_ bullet.

"_Living trapped in a world of despair just waiting for the day you would finally die and be free of the nightmare," _he whispered the answer to his own question. Natasha clenched her jaw - he needed to answer _their_ damn questions before she gladly ended his life for him damn it!

"You bastard! Killing yourself isn't going to fix the mistakes you've made damn it!" she growled angrily shaking in place as she watched him put his finger on the trigger.

"_Nothing can fix the mistakes I've made. Life is a nightmare Natasha Romanoff. Death is what finally wakes you up - Sayonara," _he whispered emptily before he pulled the trigger.

BANG!

They both watched the target collapse to the floor in a puddle of his own blood. Natasha stared at the mess in front of her with a dark look swirling in her eyes.

"Fuck you Takashi," she growled pushing away from the dead body. _Useless_.

She did _not_ handle that interrogation well – they both knew it. She completely _screwed_ it up.

"Dead end. _Fuck_," Clint growled slamming his fist into the wall behind her.

"Search the apartment – see if we can find any clues about the chip," Natasha said stiffly turning away from him. She glanced down at her hand – it was shaking. _Damn it._

"_Natasha_..." he said quietly. She tensed as she felt him step into her personal space and hover behind her.

"What do you want Barton?" she asked cautiously – even though she knew _exactly_ what he was going to ask. Shit. She felt him grab her by the shoulders and slowly turn her around to face him and his deeply concerned eyes. Fuck, he was worried as hell.

"What. The. Hell. Is. _Wrong_?" he whispered steadily. He watched her steel her eyes – that just made him even _more_ alarmed.

"Nothing is wrong," she said stiffly. He narrowed his eyes and gripped her shoulders tighter - almost to the point of being uncomfortable.

"_Bullshit_!" he growled shaking her slightly.

"Search the apartment before the cops show up because of all the gunfire Barton," she repeated staring at him dead in eyes. She could feel the shaking in her hand increase and clenched them into fists to stop him from feeling it too – it didn't work. His eyes narrowed. He had noticed.

"Natasha you're fucking scaring me damn it!" he said angrily. She tensed.

"You _should_ be scared!" she shouted shoving him away from her. He stared at her in disbelief as she took several steps away from him.

"No, I'm not scared of you – I'm scared _for_ you!" he growled. Natasha clenched her jaw in anger.

"Can you please stop suffocating me for 10 _minutes_ until we get the fuck out of here?" she shouted seriously resisting the urge to throw something at him – like a knife. Or her gun. Or a vase that was inches from her reach. _Fuck_. He narrowed his eyes as he took in her uneven breath and the obvious shake in her hands. She was tightly resisting a breakdown. If he pushed her she would crack here. Damn it.

"_Fine_!" he spat as he spun around and stalked out of the bedroom with their dead target bleeding all over the ground. If she wanted to fucking pretend she wasn't about to fall apart he would let her. Then he would be forced to pick up the pieces when she cracked – _fantastic_.

He was currently using all that was left of his fried patience to focus on actually scanning the living room and searching through Takashi's papers on his desk because the faster they found this chip the faster he could get her out of Japan because he had a feeling there was a bigger problem behind all of this shit that is just waiting for explode. He felt her walk in the room and glanced at her slightly calmer looking form –it was an act. A very bad one.

"Stop staring at me," she said instantly. He turned away and looked back at when he was originally doing.

"I'm not staring at you Tasha," he said slowly with his back to her. He felt her tense from 10 feet away from him. The air was simmering with unasked questions and unspoken answers.

"Stop calling me Tasha," she hissed. He paused as he stared at the book shelf in front of him.

"You're being irrational," he said carefully. Natasha was _never_ irrational. Natasha angrily ignored his harsh statement and forcefully opened the closet door in front of her. She stared at what she found inside and promptly slammed the door shut before Barton could turn around and get a closer look at what hideous sight lay behind the wooden barrier. She knew it was a pointless gesture however because the moment she had opened the door a rotting pungent smell had invaded the air and made it impossible for him to not know what she had found.

This day just got worse and worse and _worse_.

"Natasha…" Clint said carefully from behind her as she continued to stare daggers into the closed door. Once upon a Russian winter night her life was full of dead bodies just like it appeared to be right now. She watched more of her tightly locked away memories of blinding red against white snow flash across her eyes - she was losing it.

"Don't ask, don't look and don't question it Barton," Natasha said stiffly. She felt him hover over her shoulder and clenched her fists at her sides to stop herself from shoving him away from the door.

"But Natasha…" he tried again cautiously, but she stiffly shook her head.

"We're not detectives Barton. We're not the police. Our job is to find a memory chip and this is a dead end. Hill was right – don't try and be a hero. We're not heroes," Natasha said carefully. She would never be a hero – _never_. She did not have the capacity to be a hero.

"How many-" he started to ask anyway but she cut him off again.

"3 women. All foreign. Dead. I think we should go," she said tightly spinning around and giving him a firm look. They were assassins and even beyond that they were agents who had a job to do.

_CRASH_!

Clint and Natasha both spun around and stared at the beeping object that just crashed through the window and instantly tensed.

"_SHIT_!" they shouted at the same time and they both sprinted out of the room, slammed the door shut behind them as they instantly turned the corner into the bedroom. They dashed towards the only exit out of the second story apartment – the window. Natasha swiftly kicked the window screen off its hinges and both agents promptly flung themselves out the two story high window just as the apartment contained an explosion above their head and fire burst out from every single window in the burning building. The assassins had _no_ idea where they were landing, but the next thing Clint knew he was crashing into an uncomfortably hard bush with his lovely unstable partner landing right on top of him with a loud _oomph_!

"_Fuck_!" he wheezed in pain as he felt his arm burn in pain. Natasha instantly stopped moving to not aggravate whatever injuries he just received but tensed when she heard voices – he couldn't be making those sounds if they wanted to remain hidden.

"_Shut up_!" she hissed as she covered his mouth with her hand to muffle his painful gasps as they both heard several cars suddenly screech against pavement. Natasha carefully listened to all the sudden shouting in Japanese.

"_Is Takashi dead?" _

"_The little asshole better never come back to life to screw us all over again!" _

"_Was there anyone else?"_

"_I don't know. Search the area!" _

"_Fuck_! Time to move Barton! Tell me you didn't break anything!" she whispered angrily. He shook his head with a contradicting wince.

"No –I just dislocated my shoulder when I landed on it," he muttered as he shifted uneasily underneath her. She patted him down to make sure he wasn't lying about that being his only injury and quickly found his oddly angled arm before she huffed in frustration. _Damn it Barton why the hell do you have to get hurt so damn easily?_ She adamantly ignored the fact that they had just jumped out of a damn second story window and that the fact that he only _dislocated_ something was a damn miracle. They could have practically paralyzed themselves if they fell at a wrong angle.

"I'll fix it soon – let's go," she said tightly as she pushed herself off of him and dragged him off the ground with a strong tug on his uninjured arm. He froze in utter agony but didn't make a sound as she loosened her death grip and quickly tugged him around the burning building as they heard men searching the area on the other side.

They silently made their way over to their car 10 feet away from the all the madness. The only reason no one saw them was because of all the chaos they were causing amongst themselves and the cover of darkness. Natasha swiftly unlocked the doors and they both slid into their respective sides and sat in stony silence as the watched the insanity unfold in front of them. They both took a deep breath.

"I'm going to turn the car on – and then we're both going to duck," Natasha said steadily. Clint nodded as he gritted his teeth and tightly held his dislocated shoulder to his chest. Natasha took another a deep breath and swiftly turned the key in the ignition and let the car roar to life, effective alerting _every_ single Japanese thug scattered around the street of their existence – she _hated_ being the center of attention.

"_OVER THERE! SOMEONE IS TRYING TO RUN AWAY!"_ someone shouted in rough Japanese. Natasha and Clint both tensed.

"_DUCK_ BARTON!" Natasha shouted as the bullets flew through the glass and buried themselves into the upholster of their stole car. They both covered their heads as glass shattered all around them.

"Ugh! I am going to _kill_ these bastards!" Natasha shouted as she whipped out her gun and shot 3 perfect shots and took out three of the cars in front of them. Clint shot her a sharp look. That was _pointless_!

"Just _drive_ Natasha!" he shouted in anger. She gritted teeth in irritation and slammed her foot on the gas and shot backwards – nearly _ramming_ them into another building. She growled in frustration. It was like one fuck up after another. She swiftly spun them around and quickly zoomed out of the neighborhood with bullets ricocheting off their bumper.

"You're a _shit_ reverse driver," Clint grumbled as she quickly got them onto the highway and far, far away from the loud commotion they could still hear happening behind them. The night was no longer quiet – it was full of sirens, smoke, and a hell of a lot of shouting. Shit driving wasn't the only shit job she did tonight.

"Go fuck yourself," she muttered irritably. She was done talking today. She was pissed as hell. She screwed up so fucking _bad_. Their target committed suicide. They have no idea where the chip is. Her partner dislocated his shoulder and she was barely holding her shit together.

Worse. Mission. _Ever_. And it was just about to get _worse_. She narrowed her eyes - she had no idea why the hell he wasn't yelling at her. Or kicking her off his team. Or frankly killing her for becoming a damn liability - he should definitely kill her.

"Nah it's not much fun by yourself," he muttered back. She shot him a burning look.

"_You're __disgusting_!" she growled in outrage.

"Keep telling yourself that firecracker," he said with lazy smirk – it was fake of course. He was deflecting the real problem for the moment but he was going to _definitely_ deal with this once they were out of direct line of fire. She had so much shit to get straight with him it wasn't even funny. Her past _never_ screwed with their missions – this was a serious problem.

"Shut the _fuck_ up!" she growled furiously as she banged her fist against the steering wheel and nearly caused them to swirl off the road. She instantly slammed several walls down on her out of control emotions, she had to take _three_ deep breaths before she managed to steel her eyes and drive properly again. He gave her seriously out of character outburst a careful look. She was _not_ okay. There was a momentary tense silence that filled the car. They were both thinking about the same thing – her alarming capacity to actually enjoy hurting people was screwing with her head.

"You should have told me," he said quietly dropping his bastard act altogether. It was pointless if it wasn't calming her down. She tensed as she kept her eyes trained on the road in front of them as they drove far away from one of the biggest fuck ups of their careers.

"It's not something I like to think about Barton," she grounded out tightly as she tried to get the shaking in her hands to stop – too bad it was getting worse.

Nobody liked to think about how truly fucked up they were. No one liked to think about how much of a danger they were to everyone around them. Nobody who valued control as much as Natasha Romanoff liked to think about what happens when it's ripped away from her.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: HOLY SHIT! When Natasha screws up – she does it with a BANG! She does EVERYTHING with a bang! XD**

**Damn she **_**really**_** messed up and lost her cool in this chapter! In regards to her personality I don't think Natasha is all bad. I think the Red Room really screwed her head over and she is trying to get a handle on the parts of her she deems are **_**her**_** and the parts that the Red Room **_**put**_** there. There are so many reasons she has such a hard time giving Clint want he wants out of their relationship. She still doesn't share some of the darkest parts of her past with him. This was one of those dark parts. **

**At the end of the day - Natasha is a sadist. Or was programed to be a sadist. Plain and simple. Now what is he going to do about it? **

**Does it get any worse? **

**Yes. You have **_**no**_** idea. Natasha's breakdowns are nothing like Clint's. You guys have never seen her break down. **

**Bye! ^.^ haha! Let's me know what you thought about this intense chapter! **


	63. Chapter 63

**I dare you **

**A/N: Shock value? About to skyrocket. **

**PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION! I don't think breakdowns are a joke. I don't think the problems that I write about are something to laugh about. Please do not be offended by Natasha's thoughts or actions – try to understand her and where she is coming from. If you can **_**understand**_** her issues, you will be able to appreciate how hard she will try to change. **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 63 **

30 minutes of _intense_ silence later Natasha had finally pulled them into the parking lot of a rundown 24 hour shit motel and killed the ignition. She took several deep breaths and forced herself to use every _single_ ounce of her fried self-control to _stop the damn shaking_ in her hands so that she could do her job as his partner – she was only semi-successful. She listened to his shallow painful breathing and knew he was waiting for her to break the silence.

"Let me fix your shoulder before we start any of this shit Barton," she said quietly staring at her hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. She was phrasing it like that for a reason. If he wanted to help her he needed to let her help _him_. He needed to _want_ her to help him. She felt him shift in his seat and turn to face her with his sharp sniper eyes burning into the side of her head. He could have easily said no. He could have easily found a walk in clinic and got his shoulder fixed by a professional. He could have easily called her a fuck up and walk away.

"Okay," he said firmly. She felt the huge pressure that was building in her chest suddenly fade away - he wasn't going to leave her. She _didn't_ have do this by herself. She finally felt a deep calming weight settle in her stomach - maybe this was what trust feels like. He trusted her - even though he shouldn't. She couldn't bring herself to walk away from _him_ - it was the only thing keeping her sane at the moment. She slowly let go of the steering wheel and turned to finally lock eyes with his serious gaze. She searched his eyes but found no lies. She slowly reached out and gently grasped his oddly bent arm - he inhaled sharply as even the slightest touch aggravated his injury.

"Try not to scream," she whispered while staring at his dislocated shoulder. Clint clenched his jaw as he focused on her determined eyes instead of the pain.

"That's a pretty darn difficult request Tasha," he said steadily. She nodded – she knew that.

"Try anyway," she said quietly as she took out her gun and pressed the side of it into his mouth. He bit down on the cool metal and braced himself for the inevitable pain. They've relocated each other's shoulders countless of times in the past – but this time it was _different_. This time they were both hoping she wasn't going to snap from the inevitable scream they both knew he would _have_ to make.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to focus so that she did this properly. She firmly grasped his injured arm, ignored his sharp intake of breath, bent it into the right position and slammed his arm back into place with a loud _crack_.

She instantly pulled away and slammed her hands over her ears while forcing herself to play some extremely _loud_ Beethoven symphony music in her head to drown out the sound of his muffled scream. She hated that she could still hear it and it still fucked with her head as it matched all the hundreds of screams she's caused in her memories. She must have knocked herself out of her head and momentarily fell into a daze because the next thing she knew he was calling her name and shaking her.

"Tasha?" Clint said slowly tugging at her arm – she didn't response and that caused the worry to spike in his chest.

"Tasha!" he said with a bit more anxiety in his tone – she _still_ said nothing.

"Natasha snap _out_ of it!" he growled as he roughly shook her by her shoulders and she finally found the ability to speak.

"Give me just 5 minutes Clint – and please stop shaking me," she said carefully without opening her eyes. She instantly felt him pull away and she took several deep slow breaths. She was glad he could listen to her without asking any questions when she needed him to. They were silent for the next 5 minutes while she built up the necessary strength to pull her hands away from her ears. He wasn't screaming anymore – but she could still hear it echoing in her mind.

"Are you okay Tasha?" he asked quietly. She slowly opened her eyes and stared at her partner as he subtly rubbed his injured shoulder.

"Am _I_ okay? You're the one who just got their shoulder relocated by a fucked up mental nutcase," she muttered bitterly. He sighed.

"Natasha you keep saying things like that, but your actions following your mini-episodes keeping telling me it's not your fault," he said softly. Natasha shot him an angry look. She was always so _angry_.

"Stop trying to make me feel better Barton!" she growled harshly. He gave her a careful look as she breathed unevenly and grabbed the steering wheel as she felt herself start to sway unconsciously.

"I'm just telling you the truth Tasha," he said quietly. She narrowed her eyes but kept her burning anger at bay because she had a feeling if she exploded now she wouldn't be able to calm down for a while. Instead she ripped her eyes away from his and glanced down at his overall condition.

"You look like _shit_," she muttered eying his exhausted form. He gave her a dry look - no shit.

"_You're_ the one who looks like she is going to pass out," he shot back steadily. Natasha narrowed her eyes and clenched her hands tightly as the shaking started to build up in her arms.

"Let's go inside," she said stiffly turning away from him and unlocking her door. He watched her step out of the car with wary eyes and followed her similar actions. He slowly shut his door and looked up to her side of car - she was gone. He tensed for a moment before he carefully turned around and found her waiting for him as she stared holes into the ground. He finally decided all this fucked up tension was _bullshit_ and promptly stepped into her personal space and enveloped her into a tight bone crushing hug. He felt her inhale sharply in his arms but that just made him hold her even _tighter_.

"Nothing has changed Tasha," he whispered firmly. Natasha's eyes fell.

"Everything has changed Clint," she said quietly in his shoulder. He forcefully shook his head.

"No - because you have _always_ had this problem. So nothing has changed," he said unwaveringly. He felt her tense and suddenly she was roughly shoving him back and taking several unsteady steps away from him to increase the distance between them.

"Stop it! Stop treating me like-like-" she shouted but cut herself off when she couldn't find the right word to use.

"-like you're a person and not a monster?" he supplied for her softly. She shot him a furious look before she gritted her teeth, spun around and promptly stalked away.

"Where are you going Tasha?" he asked carefully as he followed her at a similar fast pace.

"To get a _fucking_ motel card," she spat as she stomped across the parking lot with a single-minded determination - she _refused_ to have this conversation with him in the middle of the fucking street of a foreign country where anyone could see them.

He stopped walking and watched her disappear into the main building to retrieve the key to the room they were going to haul themselves up in while they waited out her unstable breakdown.

No one was going to sleep tonight.

.

.

.

.

.

5 minutes later two assassins sat on the floor of a shitty motel room with their backs against the broken bed. Natasha had her head tucked between her knees and her arms tightly wrapped around her bent legs while she breathed in harsh shallow breaths. She could see her vision blinking in and out of sight as memories of all her past kills flashed across her mind. Her vision just got redder and redder and _redder_. The only reason she hasn't been dragged into her own personal hell yet was because of the warm body pressed up against her side - but even Clint Barton wasn't enough to stop the storm that was about to hit inside of her.

"Has this ever happened before?" he asked steadily.

"_No_," she said staring at her shaking hands – she could feel the dull panic rising in her chest and slammed her eyes shut. She has never had a breakdown before – she would have been killed on the spot.

"It's not fast at all is it?" he said quietly.

"It hasn't started yet," she answered stiffly as she felt the angry waves of panic crash against her crumbling walls. If she let the darkness lurking at the edge of her mind take over she would _definitely_ go under. She felt a strong pair of arms wrap around her dangerously shaking body and suddenly found her face pressed up against his warm chest with the sound of his frantically beating heart ringing in her ears.

"You can let go Tasha," he whispered into her hair. She slowly inhaled his comforting scent as red-tinted memories continued to flash through her mind.

"Can you knock me out Clint? _Please_ - just knock me out?" she whispered with a slight pleading tone he has _never_ heard in her voice. It was literally killing him that she was truly falling apart. He shook his head and held her tighter.

"No. Sorry can't do that," he whispered softly – she would just be putting off the inevitable.

"_Bastard_," she muttered griping his shirt tightly in her fist.

Bipolar breakdown too – well that was just _wonderful_.

"Yeah I'm a bastard. But you _like_ bastards," he said with a light chuckle. He felt her pulse suddenly spike to alarming levels and just like that the she couldn't breathe anymore and she was gasping as she held onto him.

"713," she whispered. He froze as his _own_ heart rate spiked. _Oh god no._

"No Tasha," he pleaded as he shook his head.

"I killed 713 people in 11 years," she whispered.

"_Please_ Tasha don't do this to your-"

"I _enjoyed_ killing them," she laughed bitterly.

"It's not your fault Tasha-"

"I used spent hours in underground government detention cells torturing soviet political prisoners," she whispered as her voice cracked.

"_Tasha_," he said pleadingly. Her words were _tearing_ him up inside.

"They used to ask me to kill them before the interrogation in front of the higher officials- I didn't kill them. They asked me to stop the pain and I said _no_ Clint!" she said with utter self-hatred. Clint shakily ran his hand through her currently messed up red hair.

"You were too young Tasha. You were always too young," he said softly. Her sharp green eyes steeled and she shook her head.

"No. No I should have found a way out long before you came along. I should have shot myself before I hurt anyone else. But I couldn't Clint - I was a _coward_!" she spat angrily. His eyes hardened.

"Wanting to live is not a sign of cowardice," he said firmly. He felt her freeze and suddenly a dark aura filled the space between them.

"You should hate me Clint. You should walk away. You should shoot me before I hurt anyone else," she said darkly. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"I will _never_ shoot you Natasha Romanoff," Clint promised seriously. No matter _how_ many people she hurt – he could never hurt her. She tensed and suddenly he found himself being _slammed_ into the ground and had the breath knocked out of him as his broken partner pinned him beneath her iron hold and growled at him. He wasn't scared for even a second – even though he knew he _should_ have been.

"But I can kill _you_ Clint! I can kill you in so many different ways! I can hurt you so _much_ and then end your life right _now_!" she shouted while shaking him by the front of his shirt. His eyes softened instead of getting angry like she wanted him to be.

"I know Tasha. I know you can kill me," he said sadly. He knows exactly what she could do. He knew very well she had the capacity and was unstable enough to accidentally kill him. He watched as the scary dark look in her eyes faded as a deep broken _sadness_ took over. He's never seen a sad Natasha Romanoff either. He's realizing she doesn't usually have a large range of emotions on a normal day.

"But I don't _want_ to," she dry sobbed. She can't even fucking cry. She can't even shed a single tear for him because she forgot how to cry.

"Then don't Tasha. Don't kill me," he said softly reaching up and cupping her shaking cheek. She stared at her partner with terrified eyes - he has never seen Natasha Romanoff terrified of _anything_.

"Everyone I fucking even _liked_ died Clint! Everyone always dies around me! Nobody ever stays Clint! Everything I touch, everything I look at just bursts into flames," she whispered staring at her shaking hands that were gripping his shirt in a death grip. Her eyes flashed and all she saw was red covering her hands – so many times in her memories there was _real_ blood on her hands.

"That's not true Tasha. That's not true," he whispered painfully as he brushed the sweaty hair out of her eyes while trying to get through to her - but nothing would get through because her eyes were glazed over - she couldn't see him anymore.

"One day you're not going to be here anymore. One day you're going to die - and then I'm going to be left alone all over again," she whispered with dull eyes right before she promptly shut down and passed out. Clint caught her easily as she fell forward and slowly sat up while ignoring the sharp pain in his back from being slammed into the hard floor. He gently readjusted her weight and dragged her limp body into his lap so that he could lean against the bed and hold her unconscious body tightly to his chest. He listened to her stable heart beat that had finally calmed down and was steadily beating at the same tempo as his own. He stared out the window he was facing over her shoulder and watched the calm night sky with the crescent moon shining dim light into their dark hotel room. They were surrounded by darkness – but the moon was always there to reflect the hidden light of the sun – to remind you that the night _does_ end – and that the sun _will_ rise without fail.

"I'll _never_ leave you Tasha," he said quietly. And more importantly he would never let _anyone_ see her like this either. The world would never be able to handle the truth assassins had to live with every day of their lives. The world would never understand the nightmares, the ghosts or the pain they lived with. He knew Natasha had it the worst out of them all – but she was the strongest because every time she got dragged under the surface she tried with all her might to swim back up to the top. She didn't need to be scared anymore – he would keep her above water.

He was going to keep her from drowning in her own bloody ocean of sins for the rest of his life.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Now THAT is a Natasha breakdown. And it will **_**never**_** happen again. She doesn't have reoccurring breakdowns like Clint. She is a onetime deal. **

**Now – ready to watch me fix this utter **_**mess**_**? Or watch Clint fix her before they have to continue their nightmare mission? **

**Please review and tell me if it was realistic! She is very hard to write during a breakdown because I don't think she would burst into tears – I can't imagine her bursting into tears. She may be unstable but she is still a badass unstable assassin **_**who nearly killed her partner**_**! Just to**** let you know – Clint **_**has**_** to be a little unstable too - to be able to handle this. A normal agent would not have been able to deal with Natasha. I don't think **_**anyone**_** else could work through this with her. **

**Bless Clint's messed up soul for trying to save Natasha's damned one. **


	64. Chapter 64

**I dare you **

**A/N: MAGIC BANDAID TIME? PSH! THEY DON'T EXIST!**

_**Fall to pieces – by Avril Lavigne **_

"_And I don't wanna fall to pieces  
I just want to sit and stare at you  
I don't want to talk about it  
And I don't want a conversation  
I just want to cry in front of you  
I don't want to talk about it  
Cuz I'm in Love With you_

You're the only one,  
I'd be with till the end  
When I come undone  
You bring me back again  
Back under the stars  
Back into your arms"

**Chapter 64**

Several hours later some time extremely early in the morning Clint finally stirred awake after having fallen asleep sitting in an uncomfortable position with his unconscious partner wrapped in his arms. He slowly opened his eyes and realized he was staring at the ceiling instead of the window he had been unseeingly staring out of before he passed out himself.

He took a deep breath as he realized he was lying on his back on the rickety bed in their motel room – but _more_ importantly Natasha's arms were securely wrapped around his neck, her head resting against his chest and their legs were completely intertwined together. He felt her breathe steadily at the same rate as him as their chests rose and fell in perfect synchronization. He felt the edge of her soft red hair brush against his chin every time they inhaled together. They did _not_ end up like this on accident.

"How did you move us onto the bed without waking me up?" he asked carefully while still staring at the white ceiling. Her breathing rate was perfectly even – but he _knew_ she was awake. He knew her too long to be fool by her impeccable – but not absolutely flawlessly - acting. She could fool the entire world – but he saw her every moment of every day and he has seen her act too many times to be fooled. She didn't even bother to lie to him.

"You must have been extremely exhausted – you didn't even stir once," she replied steadily against his chest. He shivered as her lips lightly brushed his chest as she spoke quietly. She still had such a pronounce effect on him.

"You tired me out Tasha," he said with a heavy sigh. Her breakdown had _completely_ drained him. He felt her shift uneasily against him – but she didn't let go of her loose grasp around his neck and neither did she pull away from the compromising position they were in. He had a feeling _she_ was the one who put them in this position in the first place - it nearly made his heart burst with emotion.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. He paused and reached up to circle his arms that were originally resting on the sheets around her slim waist.

"Don't be. I don't want apologies Natasha. I just want you to feel better," he said seriously. She was silent for a long moment.

"That takes time Clint. I won't be better for a long time," she said carefully. She couldn't change or undo the things the Red Room did to her in one day. He smiled softly and gently rubbed her back in soothing circular motions. He could feel her resist the urge to melt as he continued to rub her but he didn't miss the lack of tension in her back. She had finally relaxed somewhat after her explosion.

"We have time," he whispered softly. They had all the time in the world to work though her problems for as long as their partnership stands. He watched her finally lift her head off his chest - he felt the absence of the comforting weight immediately - as she warily glanced to their left.

"Actually we have 3 hours," she said dryly. He paused and glanced over to the clock she was staring at.

"_Fujitsu_?" he said with a groan. She snorted. He was _so_ happy she had some of her usual snark back.

"_Lovely_ reaction Barton," she muttered as she stared down at him with a signature cocked eyebrow that nearly had him crying in relief.

"How long have you been awake Tasha?" he whispered cupping her cheek with one hand and watching the amused expression melt off her face as she actually leaned him his touch. He felt himself stop breathing for a moment when he realized she wasn't pushing him away - in fact he could felt her hands thread deeper into his hair while she still had her arms wrapped around his neck. He couldn't help the elated feeling that filled his body - his partner was finally, _finally_ accepting his affection properly. Too bad it took the mother of breakdowns to get her to stop denying on all levels that she needed him.

"2 hours," she said quietly. He paused as he processed that information. She has been laying there watching him sleep for 2 _hours_. He felt his heart melt slightly even though he couldn't decide if that was sweet or creepy of her. Maybe it was simply both.

"Weren't you tired?" he asked slowly. She shook her head.

"Can't sleep," she said quietly. He sighed. Her insomnia was something else entirely they would eventually have to work on too. He didn't mind working through all her issues with her - he just wished they didn't come up all at once.

"Weren't you bored?" he asked still very confused. Natasha gave him _long_ look. She wasn't like him who needed a constant distraction.

"_No_," she said curtly. He rolled his eyes and was about to respond with a lovely sarcastic quip when he saw a softness in her waiting gaze and that made him realize just how much _better_ she looked then just 5 hours ago. She was an utter _mess_ 5 hours ago. She could see the 180 thought change in his eyes and waited for him to speak.

"Most people look like shit after a having the biggest breakdown of their life," he said warily. She on the other hand looked like she can finally breathe after years of slowly suffocating to death.

Natasha gave him a blank look in return. She was _not_ most people.

"Most people don't live through the shit I have lived through," she said dryly. He gave her a searching look.

"Which technically means you should come out of these worse than us all - right?" he said with equal dryness. Her eyes fell and she shook her head.

"They also don't have _you_," she finally said quietly. She knew she would be a hell of a lot worse without a solid support system. Her mind was calm and not igniting or breaking because he was there – but that was a _dangerous_ temporary fix.

"You'll always have me Tasha," he whispered sincerely. Her eyes hardened and she accidentally tighten her grip on his hair – he winced painfully and she instantly released her hold and silently apologized with her dark green eyes as she rubbed the places she had abused.

"You can't promise that Clint. I can't build my life on the basis that you will always be there to pick up the pieces. I need to learn how to do that by myself," she said seriously. She refused to be dependent on anyone – even him. He stared back at her serious eyes and knew she was right.

"Then we'll make sure you can function even if I'm not there," he said firmly. She needed to be independent. He needed her to be independent of him too. Just in case – just in case one day he wasn't there - she _needed_ to be able to manage. He watched the hardened look fade as she looked back down at him and something that looked a lot like anxiety swirled in her eyes.

"That…that doesn't mean that…I'm not saying that…_shit_," she muttered averting her eyes and completely aborting her mini-mission. She was a coward. His eyes soften.

"Me too Tasha," he said softly brushing his thumb over her soft cheek. He needed her too. He needed her for his own sanity. He needed her to give his dark life meaning – not to survive. They could both survive without the other – but that doesn't mean they would be living. He felt a solemn silence fill the air and decided he was done with deep, soul shattering conversations for the moment – because nature was suddenly calling.

"As much as I love lying here with you on top of me - I really need to pee woman," he said _very_ seriously. He watched the anxiety disappear as she rolled her eyes at his childish way of phrasing that sentence before she rolled off him and fell back against her own pillow. He missed her closeness and her warmth instantly – but damn he _really_ had to go.

He pushed himself into a sitting position and glanced down at his partner who was breathing steadily with her eyes closed – he knew she wasn't sleeping though. He decided to linger for just a moment longer and trapped her body against the bed with his weight – he felt her relax ever so slightly under him instead of tensing up like she has done a million times in the past. He felt dizzy by the trust her actions expressed like he has _never_ seen before.

"Oh but before I go do my business I would like to say something," he whispered in her ear. No response. He furrowed his burrow and pulled back to look at her still calm expression.

"Hey – are you listening woman?" he muttered as he poked her in the side. She smiled before she opened her eyes.

"I'm listening," she said calmly. His playfulness disappeared and he was serious for a moment when he was sure he had her full attention.

"You are the strongest person I know Natasha. The _strongest_ person I've ever met," he said seriously with the sincerity seeping through his words. She didn't need his pity – she needed his _confidence_.

"Do you believe me?" he asked slowly searching her green eyes for what he didn't know exactly. She stared back at him for a moment before she finally answered.

"Yes," she said seriously. He felt his shoulder fall in relief before he shot her a boyish grin.

"Good - now I _really_ got to go. _Dasvidaniya_ my Russian badass partner," he grumbled before he bolt to the washroom. He grinned as he heard her laugh softly at his little use of her mother tongue.

She was a far cry from okay - but they were going to get there someday.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Yeah they haven't actually started dealing with her sadism problem yet. But I think they needed this AFTER ALL THAT ANGST - before they dive into trying to get her in enough control to go through with the mission. They have to infiltrate Fujitsu in 3 hours after all. **

**Time to open a can of worms? **

**I love breaking them – but I like fixing things too. **


	65. Chapter 65

**I dare you **

**A/N: Now that has done his business in the washroom let's watch him start tackling some of Natasha's serious issues. **

**Chapter 65**

Clint intertwined their hands together and held them beside their shoulders as they kneeled on their hotel bed while facing each other. He was going to make them work through this. It was going to be as painful as hell but he was not going to ignore something that is bothering her _this_ much - to the point it was about to mess with their missions. Natasha needed to stay his partner – which meant she needed to get a handle on her field skills again.

"What do you feel like doing to me when you get angry?" he asked simply. He waited patiently as he watched his partner take several deep breaths and find her voice.

"I feel like punching you," she grumbled. He nodded slowly. That was a start.

"More angry then that?" he continued calmly. She hesitated but his nonjudgmental demeanor allowed her to tumble over her humiliating answer.

"I feel like…gutting you with a knife," she said reluctantly. He knew she wasn't joking – that was the whole problem. Everyone thinks she is joking – she's _not_. She really honestly feels like doing that when in a fit of rage – even to the man she has feelings towards. The depth at which the Red Room screwed with her mind is unfathomable.

"Even worst?" he asked carefully searching her eyes for an honest answer. He could see the panic rising in her eyes and kept his body language as calm as possible. He had to be her rock in this storm. He already promised himself that no matter what she said he wouldn't be surprised or disgusted - because _none_ of this was her fault.

"I feel…I feel like…_shit_!" she growled as she slammed her eyes shut and tried to pull away from him but he held her hands tightly in place and didn't allowed her to let go or move away from him. They needed to do this.

"Tell me Tasha," he said softly. He wished she told him _so_ much sooner. He wished they didn't have to deal with this while on a mission – but life never worked the way you wanted it to. He watched her green eyes suddenly darken and he finally understands what she is thinking when that happens – it wasn't a pleasant realization.

"I feel like throwing you onto the bed and locking you in place with metal handcuffs so that you can't get away! I feel like taking my knives and carving a damn story into your skin! I feel like making you scream for hours where no one can hear you but me! I feel like doing progressively more disturbing things to you Barton! Things I should be thrown in a mental asylum for! But I don't _want_ to feel like doing those things!" she shouted angrily. Those thoughts just haunted her mind whether she wanted them to be there or _not_. She ignored them most of the time – but sometimes it was so damn hard to tell what were her own thoughts and what were the damn garbage the Red Room fucked her mind with. Clint's eyes softened as he watched the battle rage behind her eyes.

"It's okay Tasha. It's okay if you feel like doing those things. It's not all just you. We both know it was festered by the Red Room," he said softly. He wasn't scared that his partner had such sadistic thoughts. He'd actually almost expected it. He adamantly ignored that on some level he was more than a little turned on by her words. It was stupid and unhelpful at the moment so he promptly locked those dark feelings away. Because his slight masochism was _nothing_ compared to the alarming level of her extreme sadism. God damn it they were one fucked up pair of assassins. He didn't know when hurting other people transferred to them hurting each other but this dynamic between not wanting to hurt each other and seriously wanting to hurt each other was something they _really_ needed to get a handle on.

"There are grounds of expulsion for extreme behaviors like that at SHIELD Barton," she said darkly. She knew _exactly_ how messed up she was. She just didn't know how to deal with it. He gave her a sad smile and shook his head.

"But I'm not SHIELD Natasha. I don't care about regulations. I'm your partner. I'm _more_ than your partner. I care about _you_ and the fact that you are still here, the fact that you stopped yourself from doing anything to Seiko Takashi – even if he committed suicide in the end – the fact that you are trying is enough to tell me you don't want this side of you to control you for the rest of your life," he said honestly and firmly. He thought she was so strong. He thought she was incredible. He knew that on some level that not everyone could accept her no matter how much control she didn't have over her past. But he never planned on letting _anyone_ ever find out about this side of her. He would make _damn_ sure no one would ever know.

"Why are you still here Barton? Why are you still bothering to be nice to me? Why do you want to help me?" she asked tiredly staring at a random spot on the ugly beige hotel wallpaper behind him. She would definitely walk away if she ever found out he was sticking around out of pity. She _hated_ pity with a passion. She would be _no_ one's charity project. She watched him shake he head slowly as he smiled softly at her. The only reason she would let him do this was if…

"It's simple Tasha. Because this doesn't change anything I feel about you," he whispered in her ear before he nuzzled her neck and felt her start to breathe quicker. "I still want you just as much," he whispered while kissing her at the base of her neck and loving the way she responded to his touch and shivered. "But I want to help you change too – only if you want to," he said seriously as he dragged his nose along her collar bone and loved the little gasp she made when he lightly bit her shoulder. She had completely let go of her masks for the first time. He _loved_ it.

"I never wanted to be what the Red Room made me into," she sighed breathlessly as he moved up to nibble on her ear lobe. He made her feel like she was buzzing all over her body – no one ever made her feel like this. No one ever mad her body sing like this.

"Then let's change that. You don't have to be the killing torture machine they tried to make you into," he whispered softly in her ear like he was freeing her from herself. "You don't have to be a monster Natasha," he said sincerely staring deep into her lust clouded green eyes that suddenly sharpen without warning.

"Ugh! You make it sound so much easier than it really _is_ Barton!" she growled in frustration but he instantly pressed his mouth against hers and forced her to fall backwards onto the bed as he pressed her hands down against the mattress on either side of her head. He kissed her _hard_ until he felt her angry frustration drain out of her tense body as she reluctantly gave into his kiss and calmed down slightly. He would help her get through this. He would always be there to help her. He pulled away from her swollen lips and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. If he responded to every harsh word or action she took with kindness and gentleness maybe that would help her.

"_Natasha_," he chuckled against her cheek and shook his head. "It only gets easier with time and determination. And I think you have enough stubborn spunk to get through this Tasha," he said reassuringly placing butterfly kisses down the side of her face and causing her to unconsciously lean into his touch. She's never needed another person in her entire life - but damn it he was turning himself into something she soon wouldn't be able to live without. She should leave before that happens. She should run before he gets any deeper - but then he licked the back of her ear and she saw stars for a second.

"Clint?" she said breathlessly. He chuckled deeply at her very relaxed form and shot her a cocky grin.

"Yes Tasha?" he replied as he felt her whole body shiver as his words.

"You're an _asshole_ for making me feel like this," she muttered looking away from his deep blue eyes and talent mouth. She wondered offhandedly how on earth he was so good at making her feel good. She knew deep down normal people didn't have skills like this without a reason. No matter how much natural talent Barton seemed to have - he was using his body like he was trained. That scared her slightly. She suddenly froze underneath him and he could tell she was catching on faster than he wanted her to.

"Today is not about me - it's about you Tasha," he whispered staring at her straight in the eyes. She looked back at his suspiciously calm eyes and knew there was something he wasn't telling her. She could feel the hidden truth behind every touch.

"Clint..." she said slowly. He shook his head and pulled her closer.

"Not today Tasha," he said quietly nuzzling her cheek and making her nearly forget the oddness of the entire situation.

"You're hiding something," she said desperately trying to keep a firm grasp on her suspicions but he was adamant in trying to get her to just forget everything and focus on right now and what he was doing to her body - that was the problem. He _shouldn't_ be this good.

"When are we _not_ hiding things from each other Tasha?" he whispered in her ear. She started to see frightening parallels between them she didn't see before and that terrified her.

"But Clint-"

"Please don't," he said softly.

"No, but-"

"I don't want to talk about it," he said quietly but with an undertone of firmness.

"That is not _fair_," she said in frustration.

"Yes it is. We can talk about me later. Just not today," he said seriously. She narrowed her eyes and if he wasn't keeping her hands locked in an iron hold on either side of her head she might have been tempted to _smack_ him.

"Just answer one question then," she said slowly. He paused in his distracting ministrations and finally gave her his full attention. When she knew she had his blue eyes firmly connected with her green ones she spoke.

"Have you ever have sex against your will Barton?" she asked staring at him dead in the eye. He stared back at her for a long moment and the longer he remained silent the more certain she became of his inevitable answer.

"Yes," he said simply. She slammed her eyes shut and smacked her face into the pillow beside her face and felt like screaming in frustration.

"_Fuck_!" she growled as she pulled at her restrained wrists but couldn't break free of his firm hold – she _could_ have if she really wanted to – but deep down she was so damn scared of how much she could actually hurt him.

"I _told_ you not to make this about me," he said quietly. She gritted her teeth.

"Shut _up_! Someone as equally as messed up as me is trying to fix my insane problems!" she shouted in anger.

"So?" he asked calmly. She already knew he had problems too. She narrowed her eyes.

"I always wondered why you liked me Barton. I always wondered why you liked asshole behavior and got off on threats and glares and rough actions," she said darkly. Clint sighed.

"See what I mean? You've gone and made this about me now. I'm not the one who needs consoling Tasha," he said firmly. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"What's her name?" she growled. She would _kill_ her. She would hunt this bitch down and cut her heart ou- _ah fuck_. Clint saw the problematic vicious thoughts flash through her eyes and gave her a long look.

"Calm down Tasha. You're in _no_ condition to carry out any jealous-tinted revenge plots," he said frankly. He was flattered she felt that way – but they had bigger problems at the moment.

"I thought you said you never had any relationships?" she said darkly. If he was lying to her... He promptly killed her murderous thoughts with his next statement.

"No. No one like you Tasha – and that wasn't a relationship. That was child abuse," he said simply. He watched his partner's face go blank as she took several shallow breaths and stared a hole into his shoulder. He felt her get tenser and tenser underneath him and gave her a careful look.

"Don't overreact Tasha – if you've been with the Red Room since you were 9 everything they did to you is considered child abuse too," he said steadily watching her eyes come in and out of focus. She remained stiffly silent for several minutes as she processed his words. He was right - if he had gained alarming skills in less than desirable ways it was no different them how she acquired her own.

"What are you thinking?" he asked quietly before the silence become too oppressing. She didn't look at him as she replied.

"I just wish one of us was normal," she whispered. He was silent for a moment.

"Well I _don't_," he said firmly. She shot him a sharp look.

"Why _not_?" she shouted harshly. He ignored her raised voice and held her wrists tighter as she tried to pull away again.

"Because if I was normal Tasha I would never be able to help you," he said simply – instantly causing her to halt in her struggling. They both stared at each other as his words huge in the silence that echoed after his dense statement.

"You can't help me Barton," she finally said in defeat. She was beyond help. She was destined to die as a disgusting screw up in some dark alley in the middle of nowhere. Clint slowly shook his head.

"That's not true. Tell me I'm not helping you right now. Tell me why you haven't thrown me off of you yet because it's been 7 minutes and you're still allowing yourself to be restrained Tasha," he said steadily. She tensed but didn't respond. He leaned forward and brushes his nose against her ear.

"It's because you want to change," he whispered in her ear. He felt her release some of the tension in her shoulders but still adamantly shake her head.

"Wanting to is not _enough_ Clint," she whispered back. He smiled sadly and pulled back to stare at her beautiful pained face.

"I know - and that's why I'm here," he said firmly. They stared at each other for several minutes before Natasha finally spoke.

"Can you let go of my hands _now_?" she asked warily. He raised an eyebrow and held on tighter.

"Are you going to strangle me?" he asked calmly. She snorted. He was so dramatic.

"_No_. I'm not _that_ out of control Barton. Then I would be _completely_ mentally unhinged instead of just a _little_ crazy," she muttered. He slowly shook his head.

"I don't think you're crazy," he said softly. She narrowed her eyes and gave him a long look.

"You know I'm starting to feel like your opinions about me are biased…" she said warily. He scoffed and gave her an annoyed look.

"That's not true. I know exactly how serious this is – but why would I crowd you with all the garbage about how bad this is when you already know that?" he asked seriously. She looked away and shrugged reluctantly.

"I don't know. I feel like I'm in my own fucking twisted personal rehab," she muttered irritably. He chuckled deeply.

"Yeah – but is it so bad if the only one here with you is me?" he asked with a wary smile. She remained stubbornly silent and then just made his smile widen. He released her wrists and slowly sat up while tugging her off the bed along with him. She came without resistance and he had this amazing feeling that if she could trust him implicitly they could be even _better_ partners. They could work even _more_ flawlessly in the field because there would never be any more hesitation. Whatever action one of them took the other could follow without questions or a single worry that they would back out last minute. It made him dizzy with anticipation. This was what he never had with any other agent at SHIELD. This was the type of partner he always wanted since his first day at SHIELD - he was just waiting to find her.

"How much are you willing to give to change Tasha?" he asked calmly. He watched her eyes hardened in determination – he loved and hated at the same time how stubborn she was by nature. It made it so difficult to get to this point in their partnership – but now he believes they're partnership can only get stronger from here on out. He thinks his relationship with Natasha can only get deeper.

"_Everything_," she said seriously. She wanted her control back. She wanted to be her own person – she wanted to fucking kick every single part of her that the Red Room jammed into her head out the door and _finally_ control her own body. It would take years to completely clear her head – but they needed to start somewhere. Clint nodded.

"Okay. What is your best skill? _Don't_ just saying killing people – that is stupid. Give me a real hard core applicable skill. Marksmanship, hacking, hand to hand combat, acting-" he said steadily and was promptly interrupted.

"_Acting_," she said immediately. She was a good marksman – but her _true_ skill set was in deception. Clint nodded – he already knew that. He had just wanted to be sure.

"Good. We'll start there," he said calmly. She gave him a quizzing look and but waited patiently to see where he was going with this.

"Why do like acting?" he asked suddenly giving her an intensely focused look. She stared back with a surprising amount of focus herself.

"Because I hate being myself," she responded seriously. Clint tensed.

"Fantastic, another bullet point to add to my little list of Tasha problems," Clint muttered under his breath. Natasha ignored his comment and stared at him waiting for him to continue his original thought. Like she didn't know she had a fucking _shit_ load of problems.

"You're an _amazing_ actress Natasha," he said firmly. She narrowed her eyes – she still wasn't seeing his point.

"So what...?" she asked carefully as she stared back at his intense gaze.

"So why do you need to torture information out of targets? Why don't you just trick it out of them?" he asked seriously. She froze.

"As in get them to spill their guts...by confusing the shit out of them?" she asked slowly. He nodded determinedly.

"You like playing with people's emotions. You can screw with their heads without laying a finger on them Natasha. You can be the _best_ interrogator in the world - by being the best actress in the world," he said steadily. He was glad when he watched her really absorb his words and it looked like she was actually trying to break down what he was really saying. He wasn't just giving her comfort or smoothing words – he was giving her the tools to start distancing herself from her serious problem.

"I-I can do that," she said carefully staring at the bed sheets. He smiled softly at her seriously contemplative look. She could definitely adapt her interrogation style to be like that.

"If you never have to get up close and personal with weapons while interrogating your target you won't have to aggravate your sadistic side," he said seriously. Natasha closed her eyes and took a calming breath. She has met _so_ many people who lie about wanting to help someone – but he wasn't like those people. He was giving her the physical rope she needed to pull herself out of the ocean of despair she has been lost in for so long.

"I wish I met you years ago," she said quietly. He smiled sadly.

"Don't worry about the past Tasha. Just think about how you can change your future," he said softly brushing his fingers against her cheek. Natasha slowly opened her eyes and he watched a calculative look flash across her eyes. He wasn't put off by her intense focus – he respected her desire to change. He wanted to help her fix herself more than he wanted her affection at the moment. Affection could come later.

"Interrogative play acting eh?" she said cautiously.

"Play them like a fiddle," he said with a boyish grin. He could see her making a million connections in her naturally strategic mind and waited to see what she would come up with. It was always fascinating to watch his partner solve a problem – even if they were trying to solve a problem in _her_.

"I don't even have to seduce them do I?" she said staring at him dead in the eyes. His eyes darken as he firmly shook his head.

"No. Many criminals are arrogant fickle people - you can get them to underestimate you and easily get them to talk," he said seriously. She could do this without any need for torture or pain. She could do this without breaking herself.

"Get them to let their guard down…underestimate you..." she said carefully. He nodded more firmly.

"As in let yourself get caught. Make them feel like they have the upper hand. Let them think you are scared. Then they should be in the mood to talk," Clint said trying to supply her with the ideas he knew she could develop into her own special form and make them even better than he ever could. He was a decent interrogator – but it was not his specialty. He had ideas of what would make him a better interrogator – but he knew he didn't have the same capacity to excel in that field as she did.

He was the gifted soldier – Natasha was the true deadly spy. Natasha would turn this style of interrogation into an art form. She could turn the entire espionage game inside out. She just needed to get a good handle on all her issues first – then she would be the best spy in the _world_. Give her a few years to clear her head and he knew Black Widow would be a terrifying name across the globe and not just in Europe. His partner would be _amazing_. He would be so damn proud of her. But she had to make sure she didn't break herself.

"We weren't taught to work like that in the Red Room," she said suddenly. He gave her a knowing look. He knew _exactly_ what they were taught to do.

"But sometimes clever is better than brutal force Tasha," he whispered. He watched her eyes darken – but it wasn't the same as before. This was tactical Natasha analyzing all her options. He respected her mind so damn much. It was what didn't let him kill her in the first place. It's what was most attractive about her in the first place. Natasha was beautiful – but her sharp mind was what he found truly intoxicating. She was a tactical genius. She didn't _need_ her fists.

"No. Clever is _always_ better than brutal force," she said as a million different scenarios started playing in her calculative head. Barton has just opened the door to a million possibilities for her to explore and bring to life. She could take his simple idea and turn it into a piece of art. She could change the entire interrogation game with his idea. She could be the best – without compromising herself or her sanity.

"I _know_ you are clever Natasha. Use your intelligence to get what you want Tasha - stop thinking with your gun and start think with your head," he said slowly. Natasha could feel the power of finally being able to do something about her loss of control fill her entire body. She could finally fight back against the shit the Red Room did to her. She could finally break away from the vicious cycle of dealing pain and feeling pain – and it made her feel _amazing_.

Natasha intensely stared at her partner for a long moment before she promptly pushed him backwards and caused him to fall back against the bed. She instantly straddled his waist and threaded her hands through his hair. Clint watched her silently as she tugged his face closer to hers but stopped inched from his mouth. He took her momentary pause to voice his thoughts.

"Are you doing this because you want to or because you feel like you owe me something for helping you?" he asked seriously. She burned a fire in his heart with her clearly heated desire filled gaze – directed right at him. He has never seen her look at a target the way she looked at him during these rare moments when she lets him see _everything_.

"Because I want to," she said quietly hovering over his lips - waiting for his consent. He thought about saying no to see if she would stop - but then he was slightly selfish and wanted the kiss too much. He craved her touch too much. He was not perfect – never perfect.

"Then kiss me Tasha," he whispered. She didn't hold back and suddenly all his senses were simultaneously assaulted by _Natasha_. Her taste, her smell, her touch – it was all more intoxicating then any drug or drink he could ever have. He closed his eyes as she pressed her soft lips against his and kissed him _maddeningly_ slowly and took her time to explore his mouth and his body. She ran her hands down his chest and felt his strong well-defined abs pulsing beneath her careful hands. She had the _ability_ to hurt her partner – but she had the _strength_ to choose not to. It made her feel more powerful than hurting someone else ever did. Maybe it was all about power and control in the end. Maybe she just needed someone to take away her control and then hand it back to her for her to really have a grasp on it in the first place.

She ran her hands over his firm muscular archery-enhanced arms and his boarder shoulders and felt him moan in pleasure at her careful confident touches. Now she understood why he wanted to always touch her so much. It felt amazing to feel every part of your partner and the strength that simmered beneath all the muscle and smooth skin. It felt exhilarating to understand how their body worked and reacted to your own touch.

She could feel the heat of his warm body seep through her thin shirt and override her sensory system with the intensity of a thousand suns. She didn't think for a second that this was normal lust. Lust didn't feel like this. Everything she's ever had with any other man was straight up disgusting lust. Her partner wasn't the same. Her partner didn't make her feel like she was an object that he could play with and throw away. If anything he made her feel like she was some precious jewel – a red stained jewel – but a jewel that held value to him nonetheless.

She continued to kiss him slowly and pressed him harder against the bed as she deepened the kiss. She had no desire to speed up the kiss like she did in the past. She felt no need to dominant him and take the control of the moment forcefully. Right now she knew the only reason she had it was because he _chose_ to give it to her. She felt his heart beat erratically and just as fast as hers and suddenly she didn't _just_ want to kiss him anymore. She didn't want them to be something stupid and juvenile like the stupid American titles she knows _he_ wanted to use for them – but _she_ didn't want that. She didn't do things like that. She didn't need dates, flowers and chocolate – okay so _maybe_ she liked chocolate- but she didn't want them to be a sickening _couple_. She didn't want those things from him.

What she _wanted_ was to be his partner. That was all she _ever_ wanted since the day she found herself offered the choice between death and a chance to redeem herself. She wanted to clear her ledger – she _needed_ to clear her ledger. But she needs his partnership so much it was making her ache inside. She wanted to stay a SHIELD agent. She wanted to fix herself so that she didn't have to leave. She wanted to be the best damn partner in the world – the only one he would ever need. Because Clint Barton would _forever_ stay a SHIELD agent – he wouldn't survive as anything else. She didn't believe for a second he would be the same without his identity-defining job. She knew that as partners they would last forever – anything else would always fall short. Anyone else would always come second to his partner. And that was going to be her. She was going to always hold that title – she would make _damn_ sure of it. That was the only title that ever mattered to her. She was his partner – but he was _hers_. Clint Barton was just _hers_. She didn't need SHIELD – but she needed _him_. Clint instantly felt the moment she changed and furrowed his borrow in confusion.

"_Tasha_?" he mumbled against her lips.

She tugged on his larger rough hand and placed it over her chest. He felt her frantically beating heart and slowly opened his clear blue eyes as she continued to kiss him. Her sharp intense green eyes were already open and if he was able to breath in that moment he thinks he would have stopped completely.

_Thump. _

_Thump._

_Thump. _

_Thump. _

It was still beating because of him. She was going to keep living because of him.

As partners. In _every_ sense of the word.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: INTENSE WOMAN! AHHHHH! She is still a sadist. She still has the messed up thoughts. He still needs to work with her. Her problem isn't gone – but now they can control it better. This was their start down a long journey to fix each other and become the best SHIELD agents active in the field. Isn't it amazing that even though she's the sadist and he's the masochist he never loses his masculinity or attractiveness? **

**And so…behind every brilliant spy was someone who made sure they always stayed connected to their humanity right?**

**P.S. Whoa. hold your horse on the love patrol. She still doesn't believe in love. She is Natasha Romanoff damn it! But that doesn't mean she is not starting to feel it.  
**


	66. Chapter 66

**I dare you **

**A/N: Now that we have dealt with Natasha's breakdown it's time to continue the mission. FUJITSU TIME – almost! **

**Chapter 66**

After they had both pulled away from one of the most _intense_ kisses they've ever shared in their partnership they had silently decided to take turns taking a shower – because frankly Natasha's jeans were still covered in Takashi senior and junior's blood and it was a disgusting and disturbing feeling. While Natasha slipped off to the tiny washroom to go clean up before they hit the downtown business sector of Tokyo Clint was sitting on their bed filtering through several files on his laptop as he tried to figure out how they were going to find this damn chip and get the hell out of Japan. He had no idea who in the Fujitsu organization was working in the covert smuggling operation – that is what Natasha and him are going in there to find out today. But sniffing out suspects was the easy part – getting them to spill the beans about the location of possibly the most highly guarded stolen item in Japan was going to be like pulling teeth.

The light on his laptop screen reflected off his focused sharp blue sniper eyes as he rapidly scanned all the information he was swiftly searching through for something to catch his eye - something to give them an edge before they went in completely blind. However he didn't feel like continuing his search through the company's internal files anymore because right now he was getting _squat_. He had several clues scattered around his brain from Hill's warning, Coulson's lack of confidence and Takashi's suicide – but it was all disconnected vague ideas. He couldn't find anything concrete to hold onto. He needed more information. No one was offering at the moment.

"For once I think it's you who is thinking too hard Clint," a calm voice said from behind him. Clint sighed and finally stopped sweeping the hacked files for the 10th time – he was getting nowhere and it was utterly frustrating.

"Mission is fucked Tasha," he muttered while rubbing his tired eyes. His eyes were the most precious part of his body to him – and he was abusing them with all the staring he was doing at the LED screen. Partially why he despised technology so much was how it had the tendency to deteriorate your eyesight – and he was nothing without his eyesight. As an archer and a sniper his eyesight meant everything to him – especially as an agent. Take that away and he would feel lost and useless.

"No it's not. We still have 3 days to figure things out. We can find a lot of leads in 3 days," she said determinedly as she drew closer. Clint finally shoved the laptop off his knees and onto the bed beside him before he put his head in his hands and growled quietly in frustration.

"I can't figure out what they are smuggling exactly Tasha. Nothing is making sense. I hacked their business accounts but everything looks legit – except they have higher personal employee transportation costs than average – but that is stupid. Why would a multibillionaire dollar company transport illegal goods using their overpriced fancy company cars? That is _ridiculous_!" he shouted angrily dragging his hand through his hair. He hated not having all the facts. Frankly he hated when he couldn't take a step back and see the big picture. It made him fell like he was standing in a fog and anything could lash out at them and catch them off guard. They have been caught off guard on too many missions for this not to bother him anymore.

Natasha slowly took a seat beside his aggravated hunched form and put a calming hand on his thigh. He didn't know if it was good or bad that he instantly felt calmer at her touch – but she seemed to have figured that out about him. He knew that she learned fast– but Natasha was _never_ the overly affectionate type which meant she was being strategic. He didn't know if he should applaud her or wince. He didn't know if he liked her '_technically'_ affectionate gestures if they were always with calculative intent.

"Something else is bothering you," she said while giving him a careful look. He didn't look at her as he clasped his hands together and stared holes into the floor in front of him.

"I'm scared Tasha. I'm scared for what we're going to find when we start digging too deep," he said quietly. The deep foreboding feeling that Hill left in him was back. She had told them not to be heroes – she has said that to him before. Once upon a time years ago when he was a fledgling agent; Hill had told him over a bottle of horrible whiskery that there were dark parts of the world that SHIELD could not change. There were illegal systems they could not take down because the criminal world played an important role in the balance of the world power structure. He knew SHIELD existed to keep the balance – not to abolish all the illegal activity in the world. He and Natasha knew very well that they could never stop every criminal out there – they just needed to keep the most extreme and most dangerous of them under control so that _most_ of the world could be kept safe – but never all of it.

SHIELD did not have enough resources or manpower to waste on small scale criminal activity. Every mission he and Natasha go on is connected to something bigger – every assassination has a domino effect – Clint knows this very well and that is why he never wants to be Coulson, Hill or Fury. They are the people who call the shots from the top – they are the ones who had the world on their conscience. When they make decisions – they are either saving a hundred lives – or forfeiting a hundred lives. Clint is just a soldier who carries out orders that he decide are the ones he trusts and follows through with them. He prefers to be the soldier – but he prefers a certain amount of freedom as well to make his own choices and to use his own judgment when he deems it necessary. He is the kind of soldier that can _think_.

"Don't worry so much Barton. We don't have to dig that deep. We don't need to know what they are smuggling. We just need to ask enough questions to get a location to our stolen chip with incriminating information on your country's government," she said seriously. She could feel the tension coming off of him in waves and knew that his brain had already gone over all the information that they had so far and he was grasping at straws trying to draw conclusions he shouldn't.

"Tasha – we found 3 dead women in Takashi's apartment closet," he said carefully. Natasha paused as she listened to the odd tone in his voice. She knew exactly what he was thinking.

"That could mean anything Clint. Takashi was not a stable man," Natasha said firmly. Takashi might just have been a complete nut case for all they knew. She was _not_ one to jump to conclusions. Clint's expression darkened and he finally turned to give her sharp look.

"But what if they are-"

"_Don't_ try to make halfassed evidence support preconceived suspicions Barton. Always try to make your conclusions based on solid facts. We don't have solid facts. That is what we are going to get today," she said firmly. Clint stared at her firm gaze for a long moment before he finally sighed and his eyes fell – she was right. Natasha was always right when it came to pure logic – her mind was formatted to be that logical.

"I just hate going in blind Tasha," he said quietly staring at her new chosen outfit for the cover meeting. She was dressed in an impeccably official looking tight black pencil skirt and a pretty however professional white blouse. Her outfit was chosen to show off her curves and attract attention on purpose - she did not usually wear clothes like that – not without a reason.

"I know Clint," she said quietly. She understood his need to have a clear picture – she also knew he would have to deal with the fact that they didn't. That they were in fact going to do this on the fly. She wouldn't crowd him with that fact though – he already knew it.

She silently watched his sharp mind shift gears as his eyes steadily took in her clothes that she strategically chose for their cover. She was always so _disgusted_ in the past by men who looked at her like she was some sort of toy that they would love to break in – but he wasn't looking at her like that. He was looking at her like she was some sort of forbidden fruit and he was dying to have a taste. He _truly_ looked like he wanted nothing more than to shove her down on their bed and have his way with her in that moment. It should have disgusted her – but it was mixed in with a hundred other heavy emotions swirling in his darkened pupils and for the first time in her life Natasha truly felt _desirable_ – the good kind.

"You look sexy in a pencil skirt and frizzy damp hair _Tasha_," he whispered in a slightly rough voice that made her feel a dull heat burn in the pit of her stomach – she showed nothing however. She thoroughly enjoyed her partner's thick blatant interest – but she wasn't about to tell him that.

"I thought I looked sexiest in uniform?" she asked with a cocked eyebrow. His gaze darkened with heavy desire as he dragged his eyes away from her skirt and glanced up at her own eyes to give her such a _devious_ grin. It made her blink twice but thankfully he didn't notice.

"You do. You look the _best_ in uniform. But there is power in business. And I have the hots for women in power," he said with an overly playful wink. She scoffed and ended the little heated game.

"God you are going to be a _terrible_ flirt in there – especially considering you know _shit_ Japanese," she muttered turning away from her annoying partner and searching for her mission pack to get out her hair brush and fix her hair into something more professional then outright _frizz_.

Barton might like her hair wild – but she sure as hell wasn't going undercover looking like a bird's nest. She didn't trust his taste _one bit_. Everything that came out of his mouth she takes with a grain of salt – because he was just a downright _weird_ male specimen. Anything he found attractive or sexy was _way_ out there. She has _never_ met a man like him. But as she pulled out her black hair brush and silently made her way towards the mirror in the washroom she felt his sniper eyes follow her across the room and she had the strange feeling that his weird tastes had nothing to do with his messed up psyche – and everything to do with _her_. It was the strangest realization she ever had in her life. She turned around to tell him to stop his annoying staring and tensed when she found him inches from her face – he was faster than she gave him credit for.

"Let me brush your hair Tasha," he asked calmly pretending he wasn't dangerously invading her personal space. She narrowed her eyes.

"Why?" she asked suspiciously. He better not put anything in her hair as a joke or she would _sock_ the bastard in the face all over again.

"Because I want to?" he said with a raised eyebrow. That just made her even _more_ suspicious. She knew her partner was the prankster type underneath all that sarcasm and cold agent mask. That was why there were always so many agents forever _pissed_ at him. He was somewhat of a lone wolf at SHIELD – but she promptly killed that image 9 months ago. Now whenever agents thought about Hawkeye they automatically thought about his deadly partner always a step behind him. He never complained that she changed his image – she suspects he even liked it.

She trusted him implicitly in the field – but she sure as hell didn't trust him _here_.

"_No_," she said stubbornly spinning away from him and stalking into washroom to fix her own hair. It was kind of pathetic that she wasn't surprised when she felt strong arms warp around her waist and drag her back against a solid warm chest. _Ugh_ he was annoying when he got like this.

"Then I'll just hold you like this and prevent you from doing it yourself," he said with a knowing smirk that has her irritation flaring up. As _if_ he could keep her restrained if she didn't want him to.

"Why are you so damn annoying Barton? Why do always do weird shit like this?" she growled as she glared at him through the mirror. He didn't look away from her burning gaze for even a second. Sometimes his bold fearlessness made her so downright _annoyed_.

"Cause it turns you on," he whispered in her ear. She tensed but kept a _serious_ handle on her breathing just so that he wouldn't have the satisfaction of eliciting a single reaction out of her. He was playing with fire right now.

"Barton. We have the stupid conference in 1 hour. This is seriously not a good time," she said irritably. He gave her a long look.

"Then let me brush your hair Tasha," he said calmly. She stared at him in honest disbelief before her eyes hardened.

"_Ugh_! Fine! Take the damn thing!" she growled as she shoved the black hair brush into his waiting hand. He gladly accepted it and pushed her a foot in front of him and- _holy shit _he was actually running the brush through her tangled hair.

He had _actually_ wanted to brush her damn hair. No jokes. What the _hell_?

"_Why_?" she demanded carefully.

"Because when was the last time someone brushed your hair for you Tasha?" he replied simply.

She was dead silent. They both knew the answer – _never_. Not once in her life. She had more important things to do then get her hair brushed. She was always surrounded by people when she was young – but they were always too busy trying to tweak her into the best living weapon in Russia – not treat her like a real little girl. She was _never_ a little girl. She took an uneven breath and locked eyes with him in the mirror again.

"You're too soft sometimes Barton," she muttered irritably even though she could feel herself faking the irritation as the steady brushing felt _really_ good. It felt better than good. It felt calming – but she didn't _want_ to be calm.

"Natasha, if I was truly soft – we wouldn't have made it this far together," he said seriously as he pulled her long red hair back over her shoulder.

"Then you're too kind," she grounded out. It was _dangerous_ to be kind in their world. He could get himself killed for being too kind. She watched his expression darken as he shook his head even as he continued his gentle brushing. He was such a damn living contradiction.

"No. I'm selfish. There is a difference," he said steadily. Her eyes instantly steeled.

"How the hell are you selfish Barton? How is any of this _selfish_?" she said heatedly as she roughly gestured towards his calming brush strokes through her hair. He was insane if he thought she would buy that _bullshit_ – until she noticed the serious look in his eyes. Holy shit he wasn't kidding.

"I _am_ selfish Tasha. Because everything I do is to keep you happy. Because I need you Tasha. I'm _not_ a nice person. I really don't care about playing nice with other agents. That's why I clash so much with them. That's why I did so many solo missions before us. That's why I prefer spending as less time as possible on base and as much time in the field as I can. Don't think I'm some sort of Saint Tasha – I'm not_. Don't forget I'm an assassin too_," he said carefully with a dangerous undertone of his own. Clint Barton was a lot of things – most people knew him as the deadly SHIELD agent named Hawkeye. A girl who didn't even know her _real_ name but he called Tasha knew him as something else. But he didn't care _how_ much redder her ledger was compared to his – she couldn't turned him into something he was not. He wouldn't let her.

"If that's who you are you shouldn't change yourself just to be appealing to someone Barton," she said carefully. He gave her an intense look and slowly shook his head.

"I didn't change myself Tasha. You let me finally be myself after years of being a stranger in my own body. Everything that has happened was not on purpose," he said quietly putting the hair brush down on the sink counter as he was done taking out all the knots. She remained firmly silent. She didn't like what he was saying - at _all_. She knew he didn't have anything more than professional intentions in the beginning – but they were so past professional it wasn't even funny. They did things that went far beyond strictly partners – but they were partners before everything else – if only because she _wanted_ it that way. He wasn't pushing to change things because he was starting to get a feel of exactly what his stubborn partner wanted.

If they fucked up their partnership their relationship was dead in the water. He got that message loud and clear.

"Keep your hair down. It's more attractive and makes you look less threatening," he said quietly before he walked away. He didn't enjoy her doubts. He was tired of them, but he didn't blame her after everything that she's told him about her past either. He's wanted a good partner for a long time – he would do everything to keep her. He only spent his time on things he thought were worth it.

5 minutes later Natasha finally came out of the washroom looking the poster girl for professional western businesswoman – hair down and all. She saw Barton leaning against the only desk in the room dressed in his own sleek suit as he read through the notes Hill had given them on everything they needed to know to run through this fake meeting flawlessly.

"How do you feel Tasha?" he asked quietly without looking up.

"I feel…a lot better than yesterday," she replied truthfully. Not good – but not bad either.

"Good. Ready for our meeting in Fujitsu?" he asked causally flipping through their notes – but they both know he was asking if she wanted to abort the mission altogether. If she answered no to his question they were going to be on the first flight out of Japan – no questions asked.

"I'm ready. Acting is fine. Acting I can still do flawlessly," she said seriously. They both knew interrogation was completely off the table so soon after her breakdown. They wouldn't even consider it. Barton would be doing the interrogating even if he wasn't the best - he was damn better than most. She would only have to do it if their suspect ending up being someone Barton technically could not get close enough to. He didn't plan on letting her though – he was going to make _sure_ he was the one to do it.

"Okay. Let's go," he said calmly picking up his suitcase and standing up. He wouldn't baby her because she hated that type of degrading treatment. If she said she was okay he would believe her – because the second he saw that she wasn't he would just drop the entire act literally _pick_ _her up_ and drag her ass home. Life was simple like that.

Natasha knew he was doing her a favour by letting them continue with the mission even at the cost of her being so clearly compromised and so she slammed the irritation down and kept her anger in check as she read _exactly_ what he was thinking in his calm eyes. He was anything but _calm_. He was being vigilant and calculative. She knew he was watching her every move. She has never had someone pay this much attention to her without having dirty, dishonest intentions. The scariest part of this was that she knew he had the most honest intentions – that made her _that_ much more determined not to fuck this up.

"I'm _not_ going to mess this up," she said firmly. He gave her a casual glance.

"I believe you," he said simply. She gritted her teeth as she followed him into the elevator of their hotel.

"I will fix my shit when this mission is over," she said with dead serious promise. She watched him pretend to read their notes and then glanced down when she felt him intertwined their hands together. She watched him raise their linked hands to his face and gently place a solid kiss on the back of her hand. She froze as he finally looked directly into her eyes and for a moment he dropped the calm act and gave her a serious look.

"You'll do fine," he said firmly before the calm melted back over his expression. She felt something spasm in her chest as she watched him go back to pretending to read. She continued to stare at him intensely even as he continued to pretend she wasn't. Something had shifted. Somewhere between her first breakdown in their partnership and now somehow they had radically altered the dynamic in their partnership. Something about him had changed. She wasn't sure exactly what. All she could tell was that she couldn't look at him the same anymore.

What the _hell_?

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Yeah I needed to give you guys thinking about what was happening in Japan before we dive into the second half of this mission. Now we get to see them infiltrate and run a cover operation. It's always fun to watch them act. And yeah, yeah they have some tension but can you blame Natasha for thinking he was going a little soft? I needed to man him up – especially for the next part of the mission. **

**This is the end of rapid update week. Off to school now. I'll update again next week. Sorry! I hope you liked the story so far! **

**Thank you for reading :) **

**P.S. Something is brewing in Fujitsu and Clint is far more on the right track then you think. Wonder what it is? Wanna take a crack at guessing what they are smuggling? **


	67. Chapter 67

**I dare you **

**A/N: Hey guys I know it's been a while right? I know I deleted the chapter an hour ago but there was this glitch and it messed up all my formatting. But it's fixed now so I hope you enjoy it! **

**Chapter 67**

It was 8:55 am in the Fujitsu head office building and the entire main floor staff was running around like headless chicken, trying to prepare for their foreign investors' arrival.

"Hayaku! Hayaku! The Canadians are coming!" a rather ruffled looking wide eyed businessman shouted across the lobby. It was always a pain to be in charge of these stressful events.

"You sound like we are going to war Akio," a bored looking security guard said dryly as he propped his head in his hand and watched the madness continue around him. The building manager scowled at him as he directed different groups of office workers to do certain tasks he had assigned _yesterday_. What were they doing yesterday _instead_?

Young people would be the death of him.

"We might as well be – new investors mean new changes," Akio grumbled as he shot an intern falling asleep against the counter of the front desk a sharp look. The poor boy squeaked when he felt the burning eyes on him and he bolt down the hall to do what he was tasked to do for today's meeting – on _top_ of his normal backbreaking workload. Either the Japanese really liked to work you into the ground – or being an intern was the worst job in the world. Maybe it was both.

"Things are _always_ changing around here," the security guard said quietly. Akio shot his head of security a sharp look. Just because they were technically at the same level of authority didn't mean he would let the man slide with comments like that.

"Watch your tongue Suzuki," he said warningly. Suzuki snorted – uptight businessmen always rubbed him the wrong way.

"Of course Miyagi-san," he said with a sarcastic formal bow before he plopped back onto his seat and continued to keep watch of his post. He was doing his manager a favor by being here doing the boring ground work. This much racket over just two outsiders? This deal better be worth it. He glanced to his left and saw Akio's eyes nervously flash down at his watch.

"It's 9:01 – are Canadians known to be unpunctual?" he asked slowly. He's only ever worked with Americans over the last 3 years. Everyone bustling around the lobby promptly froze as they heard the front doors swing open and watched with wide eyes as two impeccably dressed foreigners walked through the entrance with an air of confidence that nearly had the head of security give them a second glance.

Utter silence reigned over the previously chaotic sea of business people.

"Um…we're in the right building right?" the man in the perfect cut dark suit said with a wary grin. Several people promptly glanced down at the business profiles they were given by their Canadian investor company that _technically_ didn't exist until 2 days ago. They looked back up at the patiently waiting foreigners with not a hair out of place and matching pleasant air about them.

Oh yeah it was their investor representatives alright.

"_HAI_!" 30 overworked looking Japanese office workers shouted in unison. The brown haired man raised an eyebrow and shot them all a charming smile – charming enough that several women – even the uptight stern faced ones - were taking a second glance as they walked past the two "_Canadians_".

Natasha silently watched her partner ooze a certain dark appeal that made women fall over themselves in distraction. He was good. It was a little unnerving considering he specialized primarily in military combat - but still useful. He must have learned some convenient non-combat skills while working SHIELD over the years. However they both knew she was technically _more_ useful, because out of all the criminals in the world the majority of the people at the top were men. It was a degrading truth - but the truth nonetheless. That's why she was the spy and he was the soldier – but they could both clearly be the opposite as well.

"Fantastic. It's a pleasure to be doing business in your lovely country. So, who's the lucky man to help take us around today?" Clint asked with a slight laugh to ease the tension in the room they didn't quite know _why_ they caused. They were supposed to be disarmingly pleasant – not raising people's hackles. He glanced at a few pretty businesswomen with a raised eyebrow in question but they shook their heads in the negative as they passed the newcomers, slight smiles pulling at the edge of their lips. The man was smooth.

She willingly let him take the lead for the moment as he kept all the attention on him. That gave her free range to discreetly scan all the faces in the room and the layout of the floor. They could read each other's move like clockwork. That's why they worked so well even if everyone at SHIELD thought they would fall apart within weeks. And yet 9 months later they were still proving them all wrong. Dead wrong. They both noticed a short stubby older man make his way through the flow of people as he made a beeline towards them. Right on cue - now they wouldn't have to be dangling fish out of water for much longer.

"That would be me Mr. Brandt. My name is Akio Miyagi and I will be hosting yours and Ms. Cross' visit with us for the next 3 days," the older Japanese businessman said as he came to stop in front of the two foreigners.

"Ah Mr. Miyagi – we've heard quite a lot about you," Clint said extending his hand and shared a firm hand shake with the rather wary looking man.

"Really?" he asked warily glancing at Natasha and raising an eyebrow in serious doubt. She gave him a pleasant smile and a slight chuckle to ease his suspicions. They could tell right away he wasn't an airhead – the man knew people. He was in business after all.

"Of course – why else would Bell be interested in a multimillion dollar deal if they didn't do their proper research on the leaders who worked for their potential partner?" Natasha asked with a calming tone that could placid a raging lion. Miyagi seemed to have fallen into her trap and found himself looking slightly sheepish. Clint felt like snorting and glanced around to see if he could spot any higher officials in the main floor. In the back of his mind he couldn't help but think about how Natasha was in reality an extremely _violent_ beast and the farthest thing from the calm docile creature she was portraying at the moment. Not that she wasn't leveled headed – it was simply that the woman had tightly capped temper – notorious for being highly explosive when set off – just like his own.

"Your people are extremely thorough. That is good skill to have," Miyagi said sounding slightly impressed. Natasha nodded but didn't take that conversation anywhere. In reality they've heard shit but smiles and deceitful flattery were always the best default action. Neither of them planned to stick around for the full 3 days. In fact they both hoped they could get a lead and the hell out of here within 24 hours.

"Are we attending that executive meeting soon?" Clint asked curiously trying to get the ball rolling. They needed data. The needed targets. They needed to do something more than twiddle their thumbs like good undercover agents and wait for the opportune moment. They were impatient to a degree – but after a day like they had they were ready to get this over and done with. Miyagi coughed into his hand and gestured in front of him.

"Yes of course. Let me escort you upstairs to the board room," he said as he led them down a busy hall. Natasha and Clint both kept their eyes open for anything useful but they had the feeling anything worth noticing was going to be upstairs.

"So are you two simply business partners?" Miyagi asked conversationally as he walked them through a hall past several meeting rooms separated simply by glass walls. Privacy was apparently not a custom in this company. Interesting. Neither of them even looked at each other.

"Just business partners Mr. Miyagi. Dating coworkers is downright messy business you know?" Clint lied smoothly while gliding over that potentially disastrous topic. He already had more than enough shit to deal with from her alone – he didn't need any more from a stranger. The complex nature of his relationship with his partner was his private business alone and no one else's.

"Indeed," Miyagi said with his eyes lingering on Natasha for a bit longer than necessary. However they both knew he was useless in figuring out where their target chip was and so Natasha made a point to look completely professional and busily reading over the documents in her hands. There were bigger fish to seduce and exploit. Not that she thought for a second that Barton would let her do any _real_ seducing today after last night's fiasco– but she could still work a room like a pro. Just when the not too subtle staring was starting to get on her nerves Barton was talking again.

"Soon we might be coworkers too," Clint added calmly as if he caught none of the subtext in that look. Miyagi paused as he seriously considered their visitor's words.

"You may be correct there too," Miyagi said with a defeated sigh. Clint raised an eyebrow interest peaked at the unexpected response.

"Ouch. Don't want us to be friends Mr. Miyagi?" he asked with slight amusement. People could daydream and stare all they wanted at the redheaded beauty- but at the end of the day Natasha Romanoff was his. He could be a possessive bastard in his own head - she didn't need to know everything. She was no one's property - but he definitely had _some_ claim. However, he was smart enough not to channel that inner caveman into his actions or she would royally kick his ass and probably give him a black eye for his efforts. Miyagi led them through a few more winding hallways and for a second Clint caught a glimpse of true tiredness on the manger's face.

"Friends in business? Surely you are aware of how these deals and arrangements work Mr. Brandt?" he asked with a pointed look. Clint didn't know if he was referring to their specific business deal or something else entirely. He locked eyes with the calm business man and held his gaze for longer than he was comfortable with but didn't look away.

"Very aware," he said steadily. Miyagi wrinkled his brow and gave him one last careful look before he stopped them in front of door leading into as non-glass solid walled room. Even more interesting.

"Then good luck with your meeting. I hope you know what you're doing," he said quietly, his eyes lingered on Natasha for just a bit longer, as if he wanted to add something important, but he remained silent as he spun around and walked away. Clint watched the older Jap disappear around the corner and gave his partner a questioning look. Natasha shrugged.

"He knows," she said simply for the sake of filling the momentary silence. Whatever is going on behind closed doors their little escort knew about it. Clint nodded.

"But he's not involved," he said carefully still staring down the empty hall. Natasha looked back at the door in front of them.

"I don't know which is wiser – keeping tabs on everything but ignoring it or being an accomplice and actually aiding their dirty work," she said raising her fist to knock and let the party know the 'guests of honour' were here.

"What would you do?" he asked quietly from behind her. Natasha paused with her fist resting again the cool wooden door. She took a moment to genuinely consider a truthful answer to his question out of respect. He was the first person she respected in a long time.

"Which ever would keep me alive longer," she said finally. Morals and values came second to survival for too long in her life. People who have the luxury of seeing the world through the lens of justice haven't seen what she's seen. They wouldn't be sprouting that bullshit if they truly knew how sickening the world could be. In her world justice didn't even exist. Clint remained silent but she was sure he understood. Not many people would.

She knocked and they both melted back easily into their chosen personas for the cover.

.

.

.

.

.

.

4 hours later – they were both ready to _shoot_ someone. The meeting was boring as hell, they met all the wrong people, Barton didn't understand a word of the presentations since it was in lovely Japanese, they were reduced to 'spectator guests' and were situated at the back of the conference room as the current speaker droned on and on about market this and budget that.

It was making the two assassins fight to keep murderous looks off their poker faces. They both wanted to throw an arrow or a knife at the PowerPoint with a million numbers running down the projected screen. This was why he preferred straight up bloody dirty fighting combat. It was much faster. He had a lot of patience – but he preferred holding a stake out on a chilling rooftop with his riffle then suffering through this agonizing boredom.

He noticed her suddenly reach down under the table and pull a notepad and pen out of her purse. She seemed to be fed up too.

_'CEO?'_ she wrote across the page. He stared at the obvious words and hoped she was joking. He glanced up at her waiting expression and lost all hope of Natasha having a sense of humor. She was dead serious. He promptly took the pen the out of her hand and messily scratched out the letters in response before he promptly stuck the pen back into her grasp. Natasha stared at the mess on her paper but took it in stride. So he didn't like going after the big obvious fish. Huh.

'_Vice_?' she continued like nothing happened. Clint glanced up at the man in question sitting silently at the front table with a customary frown on his face. He seemed like a relatively young man – probably just a few years older than himself. The man was watching the meeting with obvious distaste – like he'd rather be anywhere else but stuck here. Clint watched him glance down at his lap at what was probably his cell phone. They both saw him excuse himself from the room as he took his call. He would know the location for the chip – but he would also end up being _her_ target. Clint gave her a pointed look. Natasha scowled back in response.

'_Give me some credit bastard,'_ she wrote angrily across the page. She had _one_ screw up and now he was treating her like glass? How would he like it if she treated him like a fragile china doll every time he broke down? The man nearly committed _suicide_ when he thought he had taken advantage of his partner – while drugged or otherwise. She always knew Barton must have an abnormal amount of control if he was able to keep a handle on the amount of shit _he_ had simmering below the surface. It was a testament to how much losing that control puts a crack in his sanity.

She scanned the room and her eyes fell on the only other woman in the room. The stone faced executive director. The petite, pale and exotic type. Fantastic.

_'Executive director?' _she wrote out reluctantly. He glanced in the tight-lipped lady's direction and nodded slowly.

"Maybe," he said under his breath. They couldn't be sure until they got them talking. Natasha sighed and put her pen down. It was going to be a long day.

_"This is why you always let our babysitter do the mark choosing and background work isn't it?"_ she muttered in French mixed with some Spanish just to throw anyone off. Barton was downright _picky_. He shrugged noncommittally. It was usually Coulson's department of expertise – he preferred to just do the ground work.

"_Why spend hours doing something your handler can usually do in a quarter of the time?" _he asked calmly in fluent Arabic. She didn't miss a beat in her retort or even let it show that she didn't know Arabic was one of the 8 languages he spoke.

"_Spoiled SHIELD brat,"_ she muttered under her breath in Russian as she went back to pretending to be paying attention to the meeting that was happening in front of them. She had to do all the background work and research in all her assignments back in Russia. She was forced to become a brilliant analyst and hacker. She felt his steady gaze burn into the side of her head but she refused to give him the satisfaction of getting a response.

She felt him lean over her as he picked up her pen and wrote something in her notepad. She pointedly chose not to look down until she felt his large warm hand burning into her thigh through her tight thin skirt. She tensed against her will as currently unwanted memories of other places his hands have been flooded her mind; in her hair, on her face, on her waist, on her as- aw _fuck_. She really hated him in that moment. The longer the offending limb stayed there the faster they were going to blow their cover of being professional _platonic_ business partners. She wanted to punch the frisky bastard. She irritably glanced down with a slight scowl on her face.

_'A good team plays off each other's strengths and makes up for each other's shortcomings. A bandit gang of multi-skilled egos engaged in a never ending pissing contest burn out eventually. Which category are we?' _Natasha used every single nerve she possessed not to react as she read the question. She stared at the innocent piece of paper and knew she was going to break his hand if he didn't stop drawing lazy question marks on her skin – it was driving her insane. However, they both looked up when the general noise at the front caught their attention.

"...and that concludes my humble presentation. Thank you fellow colleagues and guests..._blah blah blah blah..._hope to see you all tomorrow to revise..._blah blah blah_..." that was about as much as Clint needed to hear from the speaker at the front of room before he and Natasha both knew it was time to work. The conference was over and now it was time to mingle - something they were much better equipped at doing. Everyone was dispersing into smaller groups around them and waiting time was finally up. Natasha inhaled sharply and had to put her foot down when she felt treacherous fingers brush the edge of her short skirt. Natasha promptly grabbed his wrist and stopped his risky motions before anyone they didn't want to notice - noticed.

"Go start your flirting spree you big pain in my ass," she muttered as she let go of his hand and rose to leave without answering his stupid question. She only got a few inches off her chair before he promptly stepped on her foot and stopped her from leaving. She gritted her teeth and shot him an irritated look. He simply stared at her expectantly. He needed an answer. Before they did their jobs he needed to know they were a serious team without or without a relationship. Natasha always had a way of confirming what he wanted without ever saying it at all.

"I refuse to be called a bandit," she said curtly before she spun around to go tag the vice president. He let her go with a satisfied look before he went after the Japanese ice queen. He could crack her or at least get close enough to tag her.

He put a crack in the coldest Russian ice queen that ever lived after all.

.

.

.

.

10 minutes later he was expertly chatting up the executive director Arai with a glass of wine sitting in his hand. He highly doubted he could drop a bug on without her noticing until at least a bit more wine and a few well-placed compliments.

"This is a lot more enjoyable then the long winded presentation we had this afternoon," he said sending her an appreciative look and all the right signals. If her hair flashed fiery red in his eyes he didn't stop to think too hard about that. Sometimes _pretending_ to feel something brought too many _real_ emotions they weren't supposed to feel during a job. The slightly older looking woman gave him a wary glance before she sipped her drink rather delicately.

"Yes, well some of our staff get rather passionate about their numbers – to the point where they should have stopped talking when we look like we're practically in tears," she said dryly. Clint blinked twice – he did not expect the businesswoman to have a sense of humor – especially with the uptight businessmen crowd she had around here. Strange.

"I imagine you do this every day – and yet you still managed to stay looking as radiant as ever," he said smoothly, very aware that he was being cheesy as hell – but some women actually liked that kind of thing. He doubted she would ever admit it but he was pretty sure his partner secretly enjoyed his cheese too – in moderation. He watched the director give him an arched eyebrow – not the response he was going for.

"You are a rather charming young man," she said warily.

"I like to be charming," he said with an easy smile – not that he tried very often. The woman he was really running after didn't quite like charming men. Arai gave him a once over look as he took an impromptu sip from his glass.

"So how long have you been together with your business partner?" she asked causally. Clint nearly _choked_ on his drink at the blatant way the director stated her question. He was not expecting that. He coughed into his fist before he could properly form his response.

"I'm sorry what? Ms. Cross and I are simply colleagues," he said as steadily as he could. He did nothing. Said nothing. He gave no indication there was anything between their business personas. What the _hell_ gave it away? There was no way she could have possibly seen what he was doing to irritate his partner – all the directors were sitting at the front table. Arai gave him an unimpressed look.

"You're flirting with me Mr. Brandt – but you've already glanced over at your colleague twice in the past 10 minutes," she said coolly. Clint mentally slapped himself – _twice Barton_? She was _way_ too damn observant. Shit he didn't even notice his slip himself. Natasha was going to kill him with that butter knife she is so fond of. Frankly she was probably going to ditch the knife and just strangle him.

"I'm just looking out for her as a friend," he said waving off her implications as quickly as he could. The Japanese beauty didn't look convinced one bit.

"So you would like to be more then friends?" she asked with an arched eyebrow. He quickly shook his head. They were _well_ passed friends – at least he was pretty sure they were. Natasha never let him be sure of anything. The fact that his hand wasn't broken right now meant something good right?

"We're strictly here on business Ms. Arai. Besides why would I be here if I was running after her?" he asked trying to get his game back on track. He felt like _he_ was the one being interrogated - by his own damn target no less! What the hell?

"Are you really going to get into a debate with me Mr. Brandt?" she asked dryly. Clint scoffed.

"When my integrity is being attacked maybe I will," he said pouring a bit of arrogance into his tone to throw her off his attempt at changing the topic. It didn't work - she simply continued to stare at him as she took a sip of her drink.

"Are you trying to make her jealous?" she asked curiously. He paused for a fraction of a second – now that was an interesting thought he might ponder later. Much later. Back on home soil maybe – but definitely not right now.

"Is it that hard to believe I may be more interested on being on this side of the room holding a lovely conversation with an even lovelier lady?" Clint asked smoothly. It was all simply brilliant deception on his part because honestly he wanted nothing more than to drag his partner out of this dreary place and get her alone. He wanted to mess up her perfect business attire, bury his hands in her hairspray induced perfect hair and brutally kiss the biting sarcasm out of her until the only perfect she looked was perfectly _taken_. He liked a gasping, out of breath Natasha at the mercy of his ministrations. He liked roughly slamming her slim body against his car and he rather liked it even more when she did it to _him_. He was so far gone and drowning in his partner that there was no hope for any other woman to catch his eye. But he was good enough actor to fake it. He was also really damn lucky he could fantasize about the redhead that truly absorbed his thoughts and do his job at the same time – too bad the target wasn't responding appropriately. Arai suddenly sighed and gave him a long suffering look.

"Mr. Brandt. I've been in this business for a long time. Flattery will get you nowhere fast," she said stiffly. Clint shot her one of his most charming smiles – the ones he reserved to for rather difficult marks.

"Really? Well may I say you have beautiful black hair Ms. Arai. It's a shame you wear it up in such a tight bun," he skillfully brushing his hand over her stiff bun and tagging her at the same time. He instantly felt his wrist get caught in a vice like grip the same moment he realized he was touching a wig. _Busted_. He stared in the black eyes of a woman he was starting to highly doubt was the Japanese executive director of this company. He was also ninety percent sure she was wearing a mask and contacts.

"Don't touch a woman's hair Mr. Brandt," she said carefully. He raised an eyebrow. That was rather…Natasha-ish. He continued to play it like he wasn't catching on faster than he really was.

"I've been told that before," he said with a slight grin. She gave him an intense look but let his wrist go before anyone noticed their little moment in the crowd of stuffy suits around them. Now he was just _slightly_ alarmed.

"Saito has a tendency to break his toys," Arai said glancing over his shoulder at the redhead having a rather intimate looking conversation with their lovely vice president. Clint let nothing show on his face but the way he shifted just a fraction closer in his partner's direction gave it away. Arai gave him a rueful smile.

"Feeling uneasy Mr. Brandt?" she asked knowingly. He gave her a tight disarming smile. Target was tagged – it was time to go. She was freaking him out. He had half an idea forming in his head and he didn't want this to play out like he had a bad feeling it would.

"_Anyone_ would be concerned by a statement like that," he said carefully. She gave him a long look.

"Leave before you lose your chance with your partner Mr. Brandt. You never know when someone else might sweep her off her feet," she said airily. Clint gave up on all pretenses of being charming as he suspiciously watched her spin around and walk away.

"Oh I highly doubt that," he said under his breath. Natasha was more likely to do the sweeping – with your face cleaning the floor. Natasha was also speedily making a beeline towards him with her red hair flowing behind her and determined look on her face.

_ "I got a dinner invite and tagged Saito. How about you?"_ she asked in Russian as she kept her eyes on her papers. He wasn't looking at her either though – he was staring at the same 4 or 5 people Arai kept glancing at and who in turn were glancing at them.

"Tasha…they're looking at you funny…" he said under his breath. She didn't react as she shuffled through the papers in her hand. Why the hell was he talking in English?

"People always look at me funny _Brandt_," she said pointedly reminding him where exactly they were. For her entire life men have been looking at her like she was a shiny object instead of a person. Barton slowly shook his head and took a protective step closer towards his partner even though he knew she didn't need any of his protection – it was more for _his_ own sanity.

"No. They're looking at you like a thief looks at a diamond necklace," he said seriously. He used to be a thief – he knows what he is talking about. Natasha gave him a blank look.

"Women are seen as practically objects in this world Barton. I don't see your point," she said still not feeling the apprehension he was in the slightest. This was what she considered _normal_. Clint slowly shook his head.

"Take a look at the group of suits in the back corner of the room," he said under his breath. She did as he asked but saw nothing out of the ordinary – suspicious men were men who did suspicious things in their free time.

"If I got jumpy every time I saw suspicious men I would have been dead years ago," she said steadily looking back at her partner's calm expression but she could feel the tension under the mask. Or more likely he was _letting_ her feel it.

"I don't think we are the only ones undercover here Tasha," he said carefully. Her eyes flashed to his and he watched them darken right before they heard the clear sound of a gun cock behind them as the entire room went eerily silent. They both tensed and Natasha glanced over his shoulder. He waited for her signal – but it never came. She was still tense but when she glanced back at him with caution he knew it wasn't them who just got caught. They weren't planning on saving anyone's ass today either. He slowly turned around and saw the pretty executive director he was just conversing with being held at gunpoint by the Vice president Natasha had just tagged.

Well the irony of their targets about to kill each other was not lost on either of the two assassins.

"Where's the real Hiromi Arai?" Saito asked harshly shoving the gun harder against the tense woman's face. The imposter narrowed her eyes. Clint was now certain she was an intelligence agent – now the question was what did that mean for them?

"It doesn't matter where she is. What matters is that I know where the chip is," the fake Arai said warningly. Natasha and Clint both shared a quick look – _bingo_. Okay so _maybe_ they were going to save her ass today. Saito growled in annoyance.

"I really hate you CIA agents and your arrogance. I have people _guarding_ it," Saito shot back steadily putting his finger on the trigger. Dead agents can't talk. The woman snorted.

"So? Is it really _that_ safe? Especially considering SHIELD is already here on your doorstep?" she asked dryly as she haphazardly pointed in Clint's general direction. The two agents both tensed.

Well shit she just gave them away.

All eyes sharply glanced at the two SHIELD agents who both had the best poker faces on with their hands twitching to reach for their guns hidden beneath their suits. Saito stared at them in disbelief.

"You've only been here for a few hours. How much do you even know?" he asked suspiciously. Natasha refused to look any of them in the eye because frankly she thinks she might shoot them _all_ – and she didn't know yet who SHIELD actually wanted alive. That left Clint with the honour of speaking for their team.

"Give us a break. We're late in the game – we got shit," Clint said gruffly. Worst unprepared mission ever. They both felt their threat factor in the room drop by 50 percent. That was a bad move – on the Japanese's part. Saito narrowed his eyes.

"You know you're all dead right? No one is getting out of this room alive," Saito said threateningly giving all three of them a deadly look. Clint knew the girl was too calm – she wasn't here alone. He scanned the tense faces and tried to pick out her team – or partner. Definitely must have a partner. CIA doesn't send in agents on these types of missions alone.

"If you're going to kill us – kill the little scruffy flirt first," the agent said dryly. Clint scowled at the annoying woman. He wasn't _scruffy_ – he was damn well built. She was too cheeky to be as old as she appeared. She was a young agent under the face mask – otherwise she wouldn't have gotten caught if she was a seasoned agent.

"I thought they were Canadians?" someone whispered behind from them. Clint sighed. It was times like these he missed being a strictly SHIELD sniper. There were fewer idiots to deal with while he did his job from high up on rafters. Back then there were simply idiots he could kill and idiots he was obligated not to kill – now they all granted on his legendary but finite patience.

"I feel like I'm having an identity crisis," Clint muttered to his partner – who was the only reason he even _considered_ doing these types of missions. Natasha wasn't looking at him as she scanned all the faces and made up her mind. This was too much damn drama.

"Yeah? Well I feel fed up. Get the CIA girl," she said simply before she pulled a round green capsule out of her pocket and held it up for everyone to see. They all froze and stared at her like she was insane. She just went ahead and destroyed the power struggle in the room. Clint simply sighed and walked up behind the glaring disguised woman who apparently had the information they wanted. He was the only one not staring at the Russian - you get used to your partner's eccentric insanity after a while.

"Back away from the girl – unless you feel like blowing up," Clint said pointing his gun at Saito the current thorn in their side. Saito tensed.

"She's bluffing," Saito said carefully glancing back and forth between the two SHIELD agents. Clint steadied his gun in the Vice president's face even as the man had his own trained on the woman they all had a _particular_ interest in at the moment.

"No she's not," Clint said calmly. He's seen enough explosions to know that Natasha is going turn this place to ash in the next 5 seconds. The Russian spy tightened her grip on the weapon as if in cue.

"It's a live grenade. I suggest you all run," she said blankly before she really did pull the ring off and tossed the activated bomb into the mass of businessmen. The half that was unarmed was already scrambling for the exits – the other half that _was_ armed was right behind them. Saito swore colourfully in Japanese and dived out door behind his men. Natasha quickly spun around and roughly kicked open the locked door behind her on the other side of the room while Clint roughly grabbed their required informant by her forearms.

"Let's go miss cheeky CIA before we all blow up!" he said gruffly as he quickly dragged the girl out the door and Natasha slammed it shut just as the grenade went off and deafened all the sound around them for several seconds. All 3 of them fell against the hallway wall as the floor shook violently. Natasha was naturally the first to gain back her balance and quickly picked herself off the ground.

"We need to get to the basement level parking," she said swiftly while her eyes focused on reloading her gun – they would probably need it to get out of here. They all heard the bullets start flying at the other side of the blown up room and a lot of shouting. There was a serious scuffle going on. Clint felt the CIA agent freeze in his grasp.

"Fuck _no_!" she shouted as she tried get out of his dead grip without success. Natasha and Clint shared a sharp look – they couldn't let her go.

"You're team is either running the other way or they're _dead_. Either way you're coming with us," he said firmly. The agent spun around and the rage in her eyes was so clear he wasn't even surprised when he heard the familiar sound of air being pushed out of the way right before her fist made contact with his face.

_BAM_!

Clint's head whipped to the side but he didn't even flinch from the harsh impact. He slowly spat out the blood that had accumulated in his mouth and gave the girl a levelled stare. He felt Natasha's gaze burning into his busied face and knew she wasn't talking because she was acutely resisting the urge to viciously strangle the life out of the girl they needed. He was glad she was making progress on her control.

"Is that the best you got in CIA? Fight my partner – _then_ you'd see what a real punch looks like," he said darkly. Natasha's punches can literally break your jaw in half. Their feisty momentary prisoner glared at him heatedly. She had no idea the type of damage they could do to her. He was only _ninety_ percent sure he could stop Natasha if she ever decided to just ignore the repercussions and shoot someone she is not supposed to. Then again just because they are SHIELD agents doesn't mean they don't have limits. Seriously injuring one of them in front of the other is an extremely dangerous risk. They don't work for an organization that works within the constraints of the law – which means they technically don't either.

"Meet mine – he'll kick your ass," she growled back. Clint snorted as he shook his head. Cocky young agents were always so damn stupid. They really needed to learn to what information they should not share. They really needed to learn when the Russian assassin standing stiffly behind them was _this_ close to blowing their brains out for taking a generous swing at her partner.

"He's not here right now so do yourself a favor and don't make us shoot you. Are we done?" he asked while resting the gun against her forehead – empty threat on his part. Even if he wasn't going to pull the trigger he gave her a sharp look that relayed the message he wasn't above shooting her if she was going to be difficult – she did rat him and Natasha out. He was about to give her one last threat until he saw her frame relax by a fraction - just like his does when he confirmed the one single thing that mattered to him - that his partner was not dead. He noted the barely visible familiar bud in her right ear before he glanced back at her face and saw her eyes suddenly steel and a renewed sense of determination filled the void that was there a moment ago. She looked like she had a reason to actually listen to him now.

"We're done," she grounded out. Clint was about to tell her to move her ass in the direction of the exit when Natasha finally managed to slam a tight lid down on her anger and beat him to it.

"Good, so if you two are done negotiating things that should not be negotiated right now let's get _out_ of this building before we're locked in and shot down one by one," Natasha said curtly as she brushed passed the two of them. Clint paused as he felt a cool familiar hand ghost over his seriously bruised cheek before it was gone in a blink of an eye and he was left staring at the back of his determined partner as she stalked down the falling apart hall with her right hand flexing around her gun. She chose not to shoot someone that seriously pissed her off – that was progress. She also did unexpected things like that warm gesture– that was also progress. Maybe their relationship will never be normal – but he was certain they had something damn good in the middle of all this chaos that surrounded them.

Now it was time to run and get the hell out.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Who is up for an awesome car chase scene? With the entire Japanese black market gang on their ass. Also - wonder who Arai really is? And yes we'll get to the smuggling business next chapter. It's obviously related to what's on the chip. **

**WAS THAT A NICE RETURN CHAPTER? I know it's been a while. But things are going to go really fast through the mission from here on out. **

**Review and let me know what you thought! **


	68. Chapter 68

**I dare you **

**A/N: HEY EVERYONE! I'm back! Sorry i was actually just updating my other clintasha stories so it took a while to get this chapter done! But a lot of stuff happen in this chapter and I answer a lot of hanging questions - so have fun!  
**

**Did someone say overdued action? **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 68 **

Clint and Natasha both took a deep breath as they stared at the suspicious elevator that was their only way out of the ruined business floor of the Fujitsu Company. They could hear the gunfire fight still happening behind them and they knew if they didn't act now they were going to be trapped and Natasha's warning would definitely come true – they would be shot down one by one. Their tight lipped CIA tag along stood rigidly in front of Clint as he had his gun carefully resting against the back her head so that she wouldn't run after her team because frankly they were sick of Japan and needed to finish their mission fast.

"If you tell us the chip location we'll let you go you know," Clint tried to bribe the information out of their temporary hostage while he watched his partner scan all the buttons beside the elevator and try to figure out the best plan of action. He knew she would come up with something – she was a brilliant spy who worked the best under pressure after all. He felt the CIA girl scoff in front of him.

"I'm dead if I stay here anyway," the agent spat as she clenched her hands into fists. Clint sighed and was about to respond when Natasha beat him to it.

"We're going to keep dragging your ass along with us until you give us what we want kid," Natasha said suddenly entering the conversation without turning around as she tapped the wall beside the elevator with her gun. She was thinking and she needed to think _faster_. Get in the elevator and they ran the risk of being trapped if security decided to shut off the power. Stay here and they'll be cornered by the guards causing all the ruckus around the corner. It was an impossible choice that wasn't even a choice at all.

"Let's get out of here alive and _maybe_ I'll think about it," the agent said through gritted teeth. Natasha glanced over her shoulder and gave the girl a calculative look. So she wasn't stupid enough to give up her one bargaining tool until she was safely out of danger. Smart girl – she wasn't a piss poor agent after all.

"Fine – we'll get you out of here and in return you give us the chip location and we all can happily go our separate ways. Deal?" Natasha asked holding out her hand for the girl to accept her offer. She felt Clint's eyes burning into her forehead but refused to acknowledge his questioning look. She could handle stubborn agents that liked to slap her partner around just fine. The girl gave her offered hand a suspicious look but when they heard the fighting edge closer she knew they were running out of time. The agent reluctantly accepted Natasha's deal and _actually_ shook the assassin's hand. She was a brave one too.

"Fine," she said stiffly. Natasha held her gaze as she gripped the girl's hands strongly in her firm grasp. The agent narrowed her eyes when the Russian didn't let go straight away. After a few tense seconds of staring Natasha suddenly relaxed her grip and flashed the agent a curt smile.

"Good. You're not lying and you're not planning on being a threat. Let's get out of here," Natasha said confidently as she suddenly dropped the bewildered girl's hand with a satisfied expression and glanced at her partner.

"See? I can be civil and diplomatic," Natasha said giving her partner a dry look. Bastard was worried she would murder their informant - she wasn't _that_ stupid. Clint raised an eyebrow.

"I never said you couldn't Tasha," he said warily. She scoffed. She didn't believe him for a second.

"You think I'm volatile and can't defuse a situation without blowing things out of proportion," Natasha said heatedly. Clint and their little CIA agent both glanced back at the ash colored room that lay in ruins behind them. No one wanted to point out the obvious. Natasha scoffed in offence as she turned away from the two annoy intelligence agents.

"We're going to let them lock us in the elevator," Natasha said suddenly slamming her hand against the down button and taking a step back. Both Americans stared at her with matching blank expressions.

"Are you _crazy_?" they asked at the same time. Natasha took a deep breath and glanced up at the ceiling wondering why she bothered to put up with such uncreative and simple minded people for so long.

"There's more. What's the second part of your plan Tasha?" Clint asked slowly from behind her. Natasha smiled slightly – _that's why_.

"If they shut off the power the elevator won't move up or down and we have a good 7 minutes before they manage to break into the metal container. 7 minutes is plenty of time to bust out of top of the elevator, climb up to a vent opening and make our way down to basement level before security catches up," she said swiftly spinning around to face them just as the elevator of doom dinged open behind her. Clint and little CIA both gave her wary looks. Yeah she was insane.

"THERE THEY ARE! THEY'RE ESCAPING!" someone shouted from behind them. The two American agents both promptly lost the uneasy expressions on their faces and burst into action. Natasha scoffed.

"Oh the party is here! Now you two _have_ to trust me and my ridiculous plan!" Natasha said sarcastically as the two of them shoved her into the elevator and Clint slammed his hand on the close button.

"Shut the door! Shut the door! Shut the door!" he repeated frantically as they all plastered their bodies against the wall of the elevator as bullets flew through the opening.

"YOU WILL NOT GET OUT OF HERE ALIVE!" they heard a deep voice boom from several meters down the hall with an army of guards behind him. Clint peeked around the closing door and smirked.

"Run fat little sumo guard run – but you're never gonna make it!" Clint taunted evilly giving the massive head guard the finger just as the metal doors slammed shut and they all heard the telling _thump_ against the other side.

"NOOOO!" was heard echoing through the walls of the elevator as it started moving downward.

"Sayonara _suckers_!" Clint shouted through the closed doors as he heard the bullets rebound off the metal barrier.

"Less egging the enemy and more _escaping_ Barton!" Natasha said roughly shoving her partner aside as she looked up and shot the bolts off the opening on the ceiling of the elevator. Clint laughed partially from the adrenaline pumping through his veins and partially from the rush of just being around his partner when she was in widow mode.

"But egging the enemy is fun Tasha – especially when they can't get their meaty hands on you yet," he said cheekily as he turned around and cupped his hands in front of him to give her a boost before she even asked. Natasha shot her partner an annoyed glare but kicked off her utterly useless black heels and accepted his boost wordlessly. He felt something weird tighten in his chest when he realized she wasn't even worried that he would drop her. Six months ago she would have thoroughly threatened him within an inch of his life before she put even a finger's width of her safety in his hands. Instead she just looked him dead in the eye before she grabbed his shoulders and he promptly lifted her up to the ceiling. He felt himself become just a little lightheaded when he got a strong whiff of something that smelled sweet and distinctly Natasha -but then she promptly killed all his nice thoughts about her.

"If you dare look up my skirt and I will _castrate_ you Barton," Natasha threatened as she gripped his hair tighter than necessary to reinforce her threat. He winced from the slight sting but grinned as he wagged his eyebrows up at his _lovely_ partner. She was everything _but_ lovely, but he liked the natural rough edges of her personality. When she shift as she tried to find enough balance to knock the ceiling patch off its hinges he accidentally got a face full of her skirt and froze.

"Too late," he said quickly glancing away before she could stab his eyes out with one of her expertly hidden knives that he did not want to meet today. Natasha smirked ever so slightly as she felt his cheeks started to heat up while pressed against her knees – yeah she still got it.

"You two are _beyond_ infatuated with each other," The CIA agent said shaking her head in disgust. Clint glanced behind him and scowled at their tag along. He had forgotten for second that she was still here – damn Natasha was distracting sometimes.

"If you want a boost too you should try being a bit nicer to me," he said grumpily. The agent snorted.

"Not gonna happen asshole," she muttered. They couldn't afford to leave her behind and therefore she didn't need to be any nicer to him then she had to be. Clint was about to respond when he nearly _dropped_ his partner altogether when she suddenly whacked him upside the head with her knee.

"_Ack_! What was that for _Tasha_?" he exclaimed irritably glancing up and giving her a sharp glare.

"Don't egg the informant either," she said curtly.

"_Beast_," he muttered under his breath. He was infatuated with a _beast_. A very attractive beast - but a beast nonetheless. They all tensed when the elevator suddenly came to a screeching halt and all the lights instantly flickered out leaving them surrounded by pitch darkness.

"What floor did we stop on?" Clint asked, careful not to jostle his partner in the dark.

"I think we're 3 floors from the ground," he heard the CIA agent mutter cautiously. 3 agents stuck in a dark elevator with the entire underground Japanese gang after their necks was not a great situation to stay still in. Clint paused as he heard something bang open above them – someone had been busy while all the arguing went on below her.

"And our 7 minutes start now. I got the latch open - let's go," Natasha said feeling around the opening before she firmly gripped the edge and hoisted herself up and out of the unmoving metal box. Clint turned to look in the direction he heard steady breathing after he lost contact with his partner.

"You're turn miss... do you have a first name Miss CIA?" Clint asked dryly. The agent scoffed and reached out into the darkness to feel where he was exactly. Clint grabbed her shoulder when her hand made contact with his face. She instantly dropped her hand when she located him.

"Bishop," she said curtly. Clint raised an eyebrow as he helped her up towards Natasha. Odd first name. He's heard odder though so he didn't mention it.

"Have a last name?" he asked dryly. He grinned as he felt her huff in frustration as she grabbed Natasha's hand.

"Bishop _is_ my last name," she said harshly. As _if_ she would give him her first name. Clint chuckled.

"So do I make up a first name for you? How about Janey?" he said deliberately trying to get a rise out of her - he succeeded.

"_Don't_ call me Janey!" Bishop growled down at him. Natasha had _enough_.

"_Both_ of your shut up and pick up the pace before security gets here!" she hissed. Clint rolled his eyes.

"Sure we can do that Tasha – but is anyone going to help me up?" he asked dryly. Natasha sighed and reached down through the opening to grab his arm and yank him out of the dark enclosed metal box. He grabbed the edge of the ledge and pulled himself up the rest of the way and leaned against the side of the elevator shaft as they all glanced around as their eyes started adjusting to the dim glow from all the upper floors.

"Where is the vent genius?" Bishop asked giving Natasha and pointed look. Clint paused as he felt something dig into his back. He turned around and felt around the wall behind him.

"Found the vent," he said as he jiggling the latch and pulled the door to the side. Natasha gave Bishop a blank stare. The kid huffed and looked away.

"Nice job Barton – now start crawling," Natasha said shoving him forward. He rolled his eyes and eased his way through the tight fit vent. Natasha followed after him with Bishop right behind.

"This is the _stupidest_ escape method I have ever used," Bishop muttered as she crawled behind the two SHIELD agents. They all paused as they heard a ruckus start right below them and a large _bang_ signified the elevator had been breached.

"At least you're not dead yet," Natasha said with a shrug and left it at that. Clint stopped crawling after a few minutes causing both agents behind him to stop as well. He glanced to his left through a vent opening and saw no guards or unfriendly company walking through the hall.

"I think I found the hall leading into the parking lot," Clint said as he slammed his shoulder against the opening and knocked it right off its hinges. Natasha stared at him with a blank expression.

"Nice way to be subtle Barton," she said dryly. Clint scoffed.

"You can't say _anything_ after wielding a damn grenade in a business meeting Romanoff," he shot back as he crawled out and pushed himself to his feet. He scanned the empty hall as Natasha and Bishop both stood up behind him and silently took out their guns ready to shoot their way out of here if they had to.

"They're busy on the second floor," Bishop said answering the unasked question hanging in the air about why no one was down here looking for them. Clint paused.

"Did your partner tell you that?" he asked as he made his way down the silent hall. Natasha followed close behind him always on high alert. Bishop narrowed her eyes but followed because she didn't really have a choice. They knew she had a communicator, but she knew they'd just restrain her if she tried to run.

"He's not dead yet," Bishop muttered. Clint nodded as he stopped in front of the door leading into the underground parking. He glanced at something in the corner of the hall and tensed.

"Security is watching us," he said carefully.

"Why aren't they sending their little army of guards after us then?" Natasha asked slowly. The two partners shared a tense look when suddenly Bishop froze in her step.

"_What_?" she shouted in disbelief as her hand shot to her ear. Clint and Natasha both tensed at they stared at the CIA agent like Barton's namesake. She paled and took a step back.

"Get away from the door," she said seriously. Clint took several steps back and shoved his partner back along with him. Natasha glared at his protective stance but he ignored her – she could glare all she wants but he cared more about her safety then her stupid stubborn pride.

"Why?" he asked slowly watching the minute expressions flash across Bishop's face. It stopped on a mixture of extremely alarmed – and utterly pissed.

"Actually better idea – let's run!" she shouted before she spun around and flew back down the hall in the opposite direction just as the door behind them burst open and a rain of bullets of were being fired at their heels as they instantly ran after her. It's a sad day when your own hostage is bossing you around and knows more about the enemy movements then you do.

"For a damn business head office this is one of the most heavily armed buildings we've infiltrated in _months_!" Clint growled and just as they turned the corner they heard a something whiz through the air and when it sounded like it make impact with the wall in front of them the entire hall instantly got filled with black unbreathable smoke.

"Oh for the love of god – _smoke_?" Clint huffed in disbelief as he covered his nose and mouth to prevent himself from breathing in the likely toxic fumes.

"How creative of them," Natasha said sarcastically as she ripped the sleeve off her shirt and held the fabric to her face as they continued to run for their lives. They both kept a close eye on Bishop who was clearly busy with her own partner at the moment.

"What do you _mean_ they planned to ambush us? What the hell have you been doing - twiddling your thumbs while I play a good little hostage to a couple of SHIELD monkeys?" Bishop shouted to herself as they continued to run through the smoke. She had obviously given up all pretense of appearing like she wasn't talking to her partner the entire time she's been with the SHIELD agents – as if they didn't know anyway.

"I resent that," Clint scoffed –a monkey? He was at least good enough to qualify as a dog. "And how the hell does your partner know all this?" Clint asked angrily. Bishop glanced at him quickly as they rounded the corner with more than 30 pairs of feet hitting the ground right on their tail.

"He infiltrated security at the beginning of our assignment. He's linked into their communication lines," she answered swiftly. She suddenly froze and instantly spun around to shove them both back against the wall. Clint and Natasha both gave her tense questioning looks.

"Dmitri I'm going to _kill_ you!" Bishop growled under her breath right before the wall between them and their pursuers suddenly had a massive black SUV crash through the concrete and fill the air with plaster and debris to add to the already smoke polluted air. SHIELD medical was going to _kill_ the two agents when they did their medical scans when they got back. That was going to be torture of the highest degree.

"Sorry I'm late for the party Kate," a dark haired man said from the driver seat of the large SUV he had just rammed right through the wall. Natasha was rather impressed and mentally applauded the Bishop's partner's work. He had style.

"You couldn't have told me this _sooner_?" she shouted gesturing towards his grand entrance. The man who Clint assumed was her partner gave Bishop a dry look.

"Didn't exactly have time and it's was sort of a last minute thing. Now get your ass in the car," he said firmly. They all ducked as bullets continued to fly over their heads from the murky smoke filled hall on the other side of his car.

"Oi! Bullets _kill_ people!" Dmitri shouted at the coughing security guards who were still trying to stop their haphazard escape. Clint took one look at the situation and made up his mind.

"We're coming with you!" Clint said suddenly ripped open their back door and dragged Natasha inside behind him.

"Oh this is going to be _good_," Natasha muttered as she slammed the door shut behind her. She sat back and decided to just enjoy watching how Barton decided to deal with this situation – she was done with saving their ass enough times today. It was his turn now.

"_Are you serious_?" Dmitri asked in disbelief. He was _not_ going to carpool his partner's capturers! SHIELD and CIA agents escaping in the same car? _Blasphemy_!

"Just _drive_ Dmitri!" Kate shouted in anger as she flew into the passenger's seat and slammed the door shut. Clint swore he saw the man mumbled something vulgar towards his own partner before he slammed his foot on the gas and back them out of the gigantic hole in the wall he created in the first place. They all ducked as bullets ricocheted off the back of the car but Dmitri expertly avoided most of the rumble and traffic that had been created because of all the chaos happening in front of the Fujitsu head office. In less than 3 minutes they were flying down a side street with no less than 10 black cars hot on their tail.

"Buddy you still got a tail…or 10," Clint said cautiously watching the sleek obviously black market bought cars gaining on them. Dmitri took a sharp breath.

"I know and I'll deal with it. But in 30 seconds I'm going to turn the corner and slam the breaks while you two have 5 seconds to get out," Dmitri said firmly with no jokes in his tone – he was dead serious. Clint and Natasha both tensed. What the fuck?

"You're kicking us out in the middle of a gunfire showdown?" Clint asked in disbelief.

"We're not on the same team remember?" Dmitri said giving Clint a steady look through the rear view mirror. Clint stared back at the other half of Bishop's CIA team. Barton was _pissed_ – however if he really thought about it he wouldn't be too keen on making nice with the man that kidnapped _his_ partner either so he didn't hold it against the agent.

"We're not leaving until you give us the chip location Bishop," Clint said tearing his eyes away from her partner and giving Kate Bishop a pointed look. She rubbed her forehead in irritation.

"You want the damn address? It's 4-3-12, Toranomon, Minato-ku street an hour outside of Tokyo – but as a heads up you're not going to like what you find," she said curtly. They kept their end of the deal so she would keep hers. Natasha gave the stiff agent a careful look – there was something she wasn't telling them.

"Get ready to jump!" Dmitri said as he gripped the steering wheel tighter. Clint was _not_ happy with this turn of events.

"Wait a second! How do we kn-" Clint started to argue but Natasha suddenly tensed and roughly shoved his head down just as a round of bullets fired over their heads and shattered the glass behind them causing the shards to fall all over their bodies. He was so damn glad he had a competent partner that could kept him alive while he was busy trying to make sure they could actually finish their mission and not be forced to abort out of necessity.

"It's time to _go_ Barton!" Natasha shouted as she quickly unlocked her side of the SUV and tightly gripped him by the edge of his shirt – he was coming with her whether he wanted to or _not_.

"But _Natasha_!" Clint said heatedly. Natasha glared at him with a look that clearly said _listen to me and shut the hell up for once in your life idiot._

"_Now_!" Dmitri shouted and he slammed his foot of the breaks. Natasha instantly shoved her door open even if the wheels hadn't come to a complete stop yet and roughly dragged her partner out of the car with her. They didn't even have time to hit the ground before the SUV was shooting down the street and screeching on its wheels as it raced around a corner. Clint turned them so that he took the brunt of the fall and winced as his back made contact with the hard cement road. Natasha fell on top of him and they both had the breaths knocked out of their lungs for only a moment before they quickly regained control of their breathing and went _right_ back to business.

"How do you know she wasn't just playing us?" Clint asked irritably. Natasha glared down at him in disbelief.

"You _don't_! But right now are you even sure we're going to _live_?" Natasha growled as she shoved him back down to the ground when he tried to get up and rolled them under a large parked moving truck just as the black cars chasing their CIA counterparts zoomed passed them. They both held their breaths as they counted the 15 cars that were hot on Bishop's tail. If her partner and she didn't have a plan they would have one _hell_ of a difficult time getting rid of a party like that.

Maybe it was a good thing the CIA pain in their ass team kicked them out after all. Clint took a deep breath and finally took a good look at the sad state of his partner. She was covered in dust, her red hair was completely mess up and hanging from her shoulder in a tangled chaos and her business outfit was simply ruined beyond repair. He wasn't fairing much better.

"We're alive right?" Clint asked suddenly wrapping his arms tightly around his partner's waist and crushed her body against his to feel that she was indeed warm and very alive and that her heart was beating just as fast as his own.

"Sometimes it's hard to tell when we're covered in so much dirt, dust and sweat," Natasha muttered as she hovered inches above his face. She was about to pull away when he tightened his grip on her body and held her in place. Natasha gave him a warning look but he ignored it as usual.

"Just in case we screw this mission over big time and end up dying," Clint said far too casually not to be an act, right before he grabbed her by the back of the head and slammed her lips down on his in a passionate adrenaline pumped kiss. Natasha felt herself melt against his lips and for just a moment she let his overwhelming emotions wash over her. She has no idea how he does their missions with this kind of passion brewing inside of him – but he does and she can't feel more relieved that they could have both. That they could be effective partners during missions and other things outside of missions. But Natasha knew they were running on a time limit and reluctantly pulled away before he could take it any further. They both breathed unevenly as they waited for their crazy emotions to settle down so that they could get back to work.

"We need to get moving Clint," she firmly pulling away from him.

"We need a car to get anywhere close to this location Bishop gave us Tasha," he said warily. She cocked an eyebrow.

"Then let's get creative and hijack an idiot's motorcycle or something," she said with a shrug as she rolled off of him and stood up. She tried to brush off the dust on her skirt in utter futile before she turned around and watched her partner walk right up to a bewildered looking boy with…his motorcycle. Oh he took her words more literally then she thought.

So he was going to do _that_ type of hijacking. Well this would be an interesting first.

"Get off the bike," Clint said dangerously towering over the boy – just because he could. He was at the end of his rope of patience today and was not above Natasha styled threatening. He could stoop to her level sometimes too.

"_No English_," the Japanese boy said frantically shaking his head as he stared at the ruffled looking American covered in gunpowder and outfitted in an absolutely _ruined_ business suit. Clint was fed up.

"I don't care if you can't speak English kid. Do you speak the language of _guns_?" Clint growled shoving his gun against the frightened kid's chest. The kid paled and frantically _scrambled_ off his bike and ran for his life. Smart boy. Clint threw one leg over the still running motorcycle and only felt _slightly_ bad for the kid who just lost his bike to a stranger – then again most of the people that they meet are dangerous, self-righteous snobs and somehow connected to the black market so he stopped feeling _too_, too bad. He sparked the engine and gave his partner standing on the sidewalk watching him with something that looked like curiosity swirling in her eyes a pointed look.

"You coming or what Romanoff?" he said gesturing to the seat behind him with his head.

"Do you even _have_ a motorcycle license Barton?" she asked slowly. Clint scoffed – he was _extremely_ insulted.

"Honey I can drive practically anything that can move – even the things that never really take you anywhere," he said wagging his eyebrows at her suggestively. Natasha just scowled at him.

"You're a sick, sick little man Barton," she muttered but she nonetheless swung her leg over the back of the bike and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. Clint inhaled a sharp breath as she leaned into his back and rested her chin against his right shoulder. He quickly kicked the gas on the bike into action and shot forward before he lost his cool and couldn't start the bike at all. He nearly crashed their ride altogether when her skilled assassin hands brush against the edge of his shirt. Natasha smiled slightly as he breathing rate changed slightly. He narrowed his eyes when it happened a second time.

"You're doing that on _purpose _Tasha," he said accusingly. He felt her lips curve into a telling smirk against his cheek but she remained suspiciously silent. Clint sighed and redoubled his focus on keeping them upright and moving in the right direction.

"Well aside from your _evil_ teasing that was like a god damn _warzone_," Clint muttered under his breath. Natasha paused.

"Actually it's like breaking out of prison all over again," she said glancing back at the chaos they were speedily racing away from. Clint furrowed his brow.

"_This_ is how you break out of prison?" he asked in disbelief. Natasha scoffed.

"This is _tame_ Barton – one day I'll show how much of a riot you have to make to break out of Russian high security prison," she said with an odd look in her eye that made Clint just _slightly_ uneasy.

"I'll hold you to that Romanoff," he said seriously. They've broken out of prison before in Spain during the Vargaras mission– but nothing like _this_ madness.

20 minutes into their relatively silent ride they suddenly came to an abrupt stop right smack in the middle of nowhere, between the suburbs surrounding Tokyo and the heart of the city itself.

"Why did you stop here?" Natasha asked slowly as she blinked away the dryness from the constant wind blowing into her eyes. Clint sighed and leaned his forehead against the gear handlers.

"Gas ran out," he said tiredly. Natasha glanced down at her watch and instantly loosened her death grip from around his waist – they didn't have time to waste.

"Then ditch the bike and let's find a proper car Barton," Natasha said swiftly stepping off of the useless hunk of metal and stared at her phone screen as she walked onto the sidewalk. Clint climbed off the bike and ran a hand through his messed up hair.

"We don't even know what that place _is _exactly Natasha," he muttered as he rubbed the heel of his palm against his tired eyes. Natasha paused as she stared at what finally popped up on her screen. She took a deep breath and clenched her hand around the damning piece of technology.

"It's a brothel," she said slowly. Clint glanced at her as she showed him a GPS map on her phone. He clenched his jaw in anger.

"The little sneak _did_ give us a fake address!" Clint growled in frustration. He _knew_ it! Natasha slowly shook her head.

"No, she's not lying – I tagged the Vice president before all the CIA shit exploded – he's heading in that exact direction," Natasha said carefully. She felt her partner's entire mood shift instantly as he connected all the dots 3 seconds after she did. The anger in Clint's eyes suddenly faded and was suddenly replaced with such a pained expression Natasha had to look away.

They heard the Tokyo traffic honk around them and just like clockwork the sky broke open and it suddenly started raining. Clint suddenly felt all the adrenaline of the last half hour drain out of his system as he took a seat on the curb and ignored how the water soaked right through his ruined business pants.

"So what are they smuggling Tasha?" he asked quietly staring at the water running down the street. Natasha leaned against their dead bike and stared at all the people running for cover from the pouring rain behind him.

Clint watched the rain wash mud right off his boots and caused the water to turn a murky brown colour. The rivers of questions don't always lead you to the answers you want.

"I think you already know Clint," she said with a distant look in her eyes.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Poor Clintasha didn't even realize what they have gotten themselves into. We are almost reaching the climax of our mission :D Clintasha in a brothel? Now that is going to be interesting. Time to meet some interesting prostitutes? Wonder what the chip still has to do with all this? And did you see Kate Bishop coming? Or the fact that she has a badass partner of her own? Is CIA is actually a worthy rival organization? **

**So many questions to answer and so little time! Review and let me know if you liked it! It motivates me to write faster :) **


	69. Chapter 69

**I dare you **

**A/N: Darkness. Darkness. Darkness. I'm nice enough to warn you. I'm evil enough to still go through with it. **

**Chapter 69 **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Natasha and Clint were both silent as they sat in a newly hijacked car with Natasha once again the designated driver. They were cruising through a darker part of the Tokyo outskirts – an area they knew for a fact held some of the worst criminals in the country. Natasha had her eyes fixed on the road and the darkening skyline as the rain continued to pound down on their window shields. They had both ditched their business attire and stolen more practical and less memorable clothes that would allow them to blend in as best as two foreigners in the eastern world country could. They would blend in a hell of a lot better in jeans and dark sweat shirts then two equally ruined suits.

"_5 minutes to destination,"_ the robotic voice of the GPS on Natasha's phone chimed breaking the long standing silence. Clint uncrossed his arms and suddenly leaned forward and he braces his elbows against his knees.

"Hill told us not to be heroes," he said suddenly being the first to end the borderline dangerous silence. Unresolved tension between partners was never a good idea before diving into an operation. Their location of infiltration may have kept changing but the trust they needed to make this work would always remain the same. They needed to be on the same page. Natasha remained silent but listened because she knew as he had a lot more to say then just that. She was a good listener – it was her job to be able to let others do the talking until they gave her exactly what she wanted before she happily offed them. But Barton was different – he had always been different. He was talking for both of them. She was listening because he deserved to be listened to - because she _wanted_ to listen to him.

"Coulson said there are things out there you don't want to know the details about," he continued as he clenched his hands into fists and gripped his hair tightly – likely to the point of pain. She kept her eyes blank – only because she didn't know how to show him the emotions he likely wanted – _needed_ to see.

"Bishop told us we won't like what we'd find," he said quietly curling into himself slightly. Natasha didn't know how many connections they missed but Barton seemed intent on linking all their loose ends.

"Takashi said he ruined countless children's lives," he said staring up at the ceiling of their stolen car with the same pained expression she saw nearly 45 minutes ago. It was impossible for her to keep eye contact with him when he let that much emotion show through. Barton was never reckless enough to be this…this….this _compromised_. Clint's eyes glazed over slight and Natasha tried her hardest not to be the one who was going to crack. Someone needed stay strong. Someone needed to be in control. Clint took a shaky breath and soldiered through to the end.

"_Everyone_ knew they're involved in child sex trafficking except for us Tasha," Clint whispered shakily. Natasha gripped the steering wheel tighter in her grasp. She already knew that the second she saw the location Kate Bishop gave them. He knew it too. They both knew it.

It was just so much more devastating when he said it out loud. Clint took an uneasy breath.

"This stuff is really messing with my head Natasha," Clint said staring at her with an intensity that would make a lesser woman shirk away in fear. Natasha continued driving like he wasn't even there – she still said nothing. She didn't think she had it in her to say anything that he wanted to hear.

"There are likely hundreds of little girls being smuggled across the board every day," he said vacantly – almost like he couldn't even bare to feel anymore. But Natasha suddenly heard something in his tone that made her suddenly go on high alert.

"Girls like…girls like…" he started uneasily. Natasha tensed.

"_Stop_ Barton," Natasha ordered finally opening her mouth to halt the dark path that Barton was going down.

"…girls like _you_ Tasha," he finished painfully. Natasha instantly slammed her foot down on the breaks and stopped the car. She immediately turned to stare at her partner dead in the eye before she roughly _slapped_ him across the face. The sound of her audible strike echoed around the silent confined metal walls of their car. Natasha took several deep breaths and still felt the sting of her hand making contact with her partner's face long after she had pulled it back.

"Don't make me compromised Barton. Don't make the mission personal. Don't pretend you know anything about my past because you don't even know _half_ of what I've been through," Natasha hissed with hot white anger blazing in her flashing green eyes. Clint was staring at her blankly and she was starting to feel her hands start to shake. Shit.

"Do you care Tasha?" he asked suddenly. Natasha went rigid so fast he got whiplash from watching her throw up her impenetrable walls.

"Barton we're not supposed to let-"

"Damn it do you even feel _anything_ Natasha?" he shouted as he suddenly grabbed her by her shoulders and shook her roughly. Natasha gritted her teeth and finally snapped.

"What's the point Barton? What is the damn point of letting it _break_ you? " she shouted back. Clint's eyes suddenly darkened and his grip on her shoulders tightened until it was almost painful.

"Because then you know you're not like _them_. We hold guns like them Tasha. We kill like them Tasha. We even look like them Tasha. But what makes us different – what sets you apart from all the other criminals of the world Natasha – is the gut feeling that tells you things like forced child prostitution is _wrong_! It's the crushing feeling that envelopes you when you point your gun and someone who doesn't deserve to die! It's the feeling that tells you…tells you you're not a heartless monster like them," he finished with a whisper and painful blue eyes desperately asking for something she couldn't give him. Natasha slowly pulled out of his grasp and leaned away from him.

"I don't think I've reach that point Barton. I don't think I'll ever reach the point when I'll feel as much as you feel," she said carefully. She watched something dull in his eyes before it was reignited with a spark she didn't even know he still had left in him.

"Would you kill a child Tasha?" he asked staring at her dead in the eye. Natasha stared back and they both knew somewhere within the number 713 were names that belonged to those as young as Natasha had been when she started out in the Red room 11 years ago - and some that were even younger. But the world was different now. _She_ was different now – she had a choice when she never had one before.

Oh the different decisions people would make if they had the proper choice.

"_No_," she said without hesitation – without a second thought. Clint felt something in his chest loosen as he grabbed his partner by the shoulders again and dragged her into a bone crushing embrace. He firmly wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tightly against his chest. Natasha took several deep breaths as she felt his warmth surround her while she had her face pressed up against his chest. No one ever holds her like he does. No one has ever held her without impure intentions in her life.

"Then you feel _enough_," he whispered in her ear. Natasha's eyes fell.

How did he know what was enough?

.

.

.

.

5 minutes later Clint and Natasha were both walking along the shadows that were cast along the narrow streets of the rundown neighbourhood. They could see their target building in sight and knew they were going to have to play the whole thing on the fly. Neither of them mentioned what happened in the car – they likely never will.

"How do we know who is the enemy and who is a victim?" Clint asked slowly from behind her as they continued their careful trek through the shadows.

"We don't," she said quietly as they got closer to their target building.

"Then how are we even going to navigate through the building and find the operational section that had nothing to do with its…face value," Clint said barely repressing a wince. Natasha chose to ignore his slip and simply answered.

"Saito from Fujitsu is coming – that will cause enough of a riot to point us in the right direction. If all else fails we go guns blazing and just take it from him," Natasha said steadily. The element of surprise was lost a long time ago. Saito already knew they were coming. Clint suddenly grabbed her by the shoulder and stopped her from walking down the last street between them and the brothel. She paused and waited to hear what he would say.

"He's not the only one after the chip," Clint said quietly. Natasha steeled her eyes and took a deep breath before she shrugged off his hand. He dropped it without comment.

"Doesn't matter," she said firmly. Clint shook his head.

"Bishop and her partner will be here," he said carefully. Natasha sighed and angrily rubbed her forehead.

"We're not allowed to kill them I suppose?" she said warily. Clint gave her a blank look. He wasn't in the mood for her horrible attempt to lighten the mood.

"Right. Only shooting the true scum, not the annoying complications that screwed up everything," she muttered. Clint gave her a wary look.

"I kind of like her," Clint said casually waiting to see what she would say. Natasha paused - he would have thought it was just a shifting of her weight if it wasn't for the accompanying slight twitch of her brow - she was annoyed. Interesting.

"She punched you in the face," she said without looking at him. He raised an eyebrow.

"You've _more_ than just punched me in the face Tasha," he pointed out dryly. She tensed.

"Not the same," she said gruffly. Clint snorted.

"Keep telling yourself that sweetheart," he said with an eye roll. The next thing he knew he was roughly being shoved up against the alley wall with angry green eyes invading his vision.

"_Don't_ call me stupid pet names," she growled at him with her gun digging into his gut. Clint took a deep breath through his nose and had to actively force himself to remain rigid and not to reflexively throw her off of him - he hadn't expected a reaction like that.

"Calm down Tasha," he said seriously placing a strong hand to grip her waist and using the other to lower her gun. She took a deep breath and suddenly pushed away from him. This entire plan was making her edgy. Or at least that was what she thought was making her all twitchy. She didn't want to think it was anything else.

"How are we getting in?" Natasha muttered going right back to business. Clint watched her warily for a moment but whipped out a mirror he had nicked from the car and used it to see all the entrances into their little brothel tucked into a tight fit alley. It would have looked like any ordinary shady establishment if it wasn't for the 4 heavily armed guards stationed at the entrance and more likely than not the back as well. There was no way to fool them - Fujitsu knew was they looked like. He then glanced up at the rather close and flat leveled roofs. He suddenly smiled for the first time in the past hour. Natasha followed his line of sight and sighed.

"I really hate you sometimes," she muttered. He chuckled slightly and dragged her around a corner.

The next thing anyone knew there was a resounding crash of glass shattering as two expert assassins crashed through the third story window, rolled in opposite directions and stood up at the same time with a gun in each their hands.

"Nobody move!" Clint shouted with two guns aimed directly at the mass of...half dressed deer the headlight looking prostitutes. They were all frozen staring at them in all kinds of undress. Oh dear god he could feel the unwanted heat rising to his cheeks. This was going to be damn awkward.

"What are we? Cops?" Natasha asked glaring at her partner. He shrugged as he tried to keep his cool - he's always wanted to say that. He finally got a good chance and he took it. He scanned the room full of 20 scandalously dressed _women_. He relaxed by a fraction.

No children. Thank god. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe they weren't trafficking children after all.

"Oh look more Americans flying through windows today – how lovely," the tallest practically _not_-dressed girl said dryly while all the other girls hid behind her. She instantly had 4 guns aimed at her forehead - talk about overkill.

"How many other people came in?" Natasha asked quickly zoning in on the girl who spoke. The hooker shrugged undisturbed by the firearms in her face.

"Probably just two. I think this is like a record number of break ins or something," the hooker said uninterestedly. "You're all here for the same thing probably. The boss has been going on and on about chip this and chip that for days now. Gonna turn into a cat fight?" the hooker asked casually tilting her head to the side. Clint and Natasha both stared at her.

"Do you know where it is?" Clint asked trying to hold back a wince at his slight falter. Prostitutes were not really his forte. Natasha suddenly pushed him out of the way and stare the scandalously dressed woman dead in the eye.

"_How much?"_ Natasha asked in scalding Japanese. The hooker raised an eyebrow and leaned heavily against the wall.

"_Money means nothing here,"_ she said shaking her head.

"Just tell us what you want then," Natasha said getting impatient. The longer they stalled the more likely they were to get ambushed by Fujitsu or cross paths with CIA - both of which were highly undesirable at the moment. The hooker chucked darkly and shook her head.

"Getting in is the _easy_ part," the prostitute said evenly. Natasha narrowed her eyes. What was she playing at?

"What do you mean?" Natasha asked through gritted teeth. The hooker grinned at her - it was all teeth and sass.

"It's getting out that's impossible," she whispered. Clint and Natasha both looked unfazed - they weren't afraid of a little trouble.

"Does that mean you're going to help us? Point us in the right direction?" Clint asked finally working up then nerve to enter the conversation. Brothels gave him the creeps. He's always had sensitive senses – and the strong scent of sex that hung around the room like a soggy wet blanket was essential suffocating him.

"Sure. Under one condition- we want the chip destroyed," the hooker – no – the _woman_ said firmly. Both partners froze.

"Do you know what's on it?" Clint asked suddenly giving the woman a calculative look. She suddenly faltered and looked away.

"Not exactly – but whatever it is – it's supposed to make the new arrivals more complacent, more submissive and less likely to escape…or even _want_ to escape," she said with a deep sadness in her eyes. Clint's heart went out for the trapped woman. He completely missed the pale expression of dread that flashed across his partner's face.

"You can leave you know. We're going to be making quite the ruckus. You can slip away in the confusion - start a new life. Be free of all of this," Clint said gesturing to the shabby, rundown place around them. The hooker gave him a sad smile.

"It's not always as easy as it sounds," she said before she opened the only door leading into the room and pointed down hall towards a rusty looking elevator shaft.

"Don't die," was all the hooker said before she turned away from the two SHIELD agents. By the time Clint had glanced back at his partner she had already schooled her face back into her neutral expressionless mask. Later he would wish he had caught her expression and cornered her about it right then and there.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Both partners tensed with their guns at the ready as they rode yet another suspicious elevator down to an unknown place they didn't even know.

"3," Clint said steadily staring at the numbers blinking as they reached the last floor.

"2," Natasha muttered as she watched the doors.

"1," they said together just as the door slid open to reveal the last thing they were expecting - a long white hall full of _unconscious_ bruised uniformed bodies. They both blinked.

"We're late for the party Romanoff," Clint said dryly. Natasha scoffed.

"Yeah I have eyes, I can see too hawkboy," she muttered.

"Such sass widowgirl," he shot back sarcastically. The two assassins lowered their guns and carefully made their way down the too bright hall. They skillfully avoided all the fallen guards and continued deeper into the underground trafficking base.

All the bodies they met on their way were _tranquilized_ – not shot dead.

"Someone's already been down this way," Natasha said warily. They both had an idea who. The little CIA team has already done most of the dirty work for them - and much cleaner then they would have bothered to be with sex traffickers. Clint studied the organized mess around them.

"She was just playing along when we caught her. I think Kate Bishop is a lot more of a threat them we gave her credit for," Clint muttered. Natasha snorted as she stepped over a guard with a familiar boot imprint on his cheek - definitely CIA work.

"Belova level threat or Alicia level threat?" Natasha asked warily. Clint scowled at her.

"No one is as crazy or stupid as Belova to get caught up in the mess she is currently in. And Alicia was never a threat," Clint said firmly. Natasha shrugged.

"Kid has sass - she could grow to be a formidable threat," she said simply. Clint's expression suddenly darkened. He would never let that happen.

"You haven't even seen her since we went MIA," he said slowly. Natasha scanned the deserted diverging halls they came across and then chose one to follow.

"I was never a kid person Barton," she said carefully. Clint stared at her stiff back and sighed.

"_Tasha_-" he started to say but she held up a hand and suddenly stopped moving. They both held their breaths as they heard the distinct sound of a large object crashing into the floor ad shattering into a million pieces.

"You _idiot_!" a familiar voice echoed from down the hall. The two SHIELD agents shared an amused look. Busted. Where CIA was, the chip was more than likely to be too.

"Distract and recover?" Clint asked dryly. Natasha smirked and walked down the hall with a seductive sway in her hips – he was almost _90_% sure it was all for him.

"You know me too well Barton," she said as she disappeared around the corner. Clint stared at the spot his partner was occupying moments ago and shook his head.

"No – I'm pretty sure I'm just starting to scratch the surface Tasha," he said quietly.

.

.

.

.

In an originally _very_ heavily guarded room down the hall two CIA agents stood soaked in their own sweat surrounded by nearly 20 knocked out specially hired guards that had them busy for nearly 10 minutes. They were all effectively tasered – except one of them had a nasty knife wound before his ass got tassed 3 times for good measure.

"You nearly killed him!" Kate shouted as she stared at her partner in disbelief. Dmitri gave her a long look. She should be thanking him – not hacking his ears off.

"Kate, he was trying to kill _you_ – I'm going to hold your safety over a clean zero body count every single time," he said steadily. Were all women in this field so defensive or was it just his partner? Kate huffed and turned away from him.

"Let's just get out of here before _they_ show up," Kate said touchily as she reached into the safe she had just unlocked and pulled out two black boxes that held exactly what everyone has been looking for. Now they could get the hell out of Japan and head home.

"Actually it's a bit late for that. But thanks for doing half our jobs for us," a deeply amused voice said behind the two exhausted but accomplished looking agents. The CIA agents both tensed as they heard the familiar voice and spun around with guns raised and ready to fire. In front of them was the well-built figure of Hawkeye leaning against the doorframe with a lazy smile on his face.

"Aw crap it's _you_," Kate muttered not looking pleased by his appearance in the _least_. He took a few moments to take in her new look. She was now wearing a comfortable looking pair of cargo pants with a leather jacket and her face was completely devoid of any masks. She had sharp brown eyes and her brown hair was pulled up into an efficient messy pony tail. She had high cheek bones and a permanent scowl on her face – definitely American to boot.

"Lovely to see you too Bishop – _especially_ without the Japanese face mask," Clint said dryly. Kate narrowed her eyes.

"Piss off Hawkbutt," she growled nastily. Clint whistled lowly. Feisty.

"Now that isn't very nice Kitty cat," Clint said flashing her a dangerous smile full of hidden threats he wasn't afraid to follow through with. Kate narrowed her eyes and looked like she wanted to jump him – and not in the good way either.

"Don't call me stupid pet names," she said darkly gripping her gun tightly in her hand. Clint watched in light curiosity as her partner lightly touched her back and to Clint's surprise it _actually_ dispelled some of the brewing darkness that had clouded her eyes for a second.

Huh. So _that's_ what it's like to watch a tight partnership from the outside. Thank god he had his own lovely partner or he might be jealous of their partnership. He would forever secretly think he had the best partner though – but then maybe he was just a _little_ bit biased.

"You started it Bishop," Clint said with a shrug. Kate narrowed her eyes and griped the single black box tightly in her hand. He eyed it carefully for a moment. He swore he saw two a moment ago.

"We got here first so it's ours Barton," Kate said steadily. Clint smiled overly sweetly at her. She scowled back at him. It was rather amusing.

"Ah but see we don't play by the rules so we're going to have to steal the glory from you," Clint said dryly. Kate cocked an eyebrow.

"We? I don't see a _we_," Kate said staring at him with a slightly arrogant look as she had her gun still pointed at his chest. Clint raised his own eyebrow and waited – he didn't have to wait long. Kate froze as she felt a new presence behind her.

"That's because I'm a lot sneakier then my partner," a familiar voice nearly _purred_ in her ear. Kate took a deep breath and steeled her eyes as she felt the cool presence of a gun dig into her back.

_Click_. Natasha paused.

"You're not the only one who can be sneaky little Red," Dmitri said calmly with his pistol aimed at her head. Clint took one look at the gun conga line and nearly laughed his ass off at the absurdity of the situation. He kept his outward expression calm and wary though – just in case someone wanted to fire before they absolutely had to.

"Hey now – can't we all be friends?" Clint said holding his hands up in surrender and walking slowly over to the tense gun pointing contest. Kate and Dmitri shared a quick look – too quick for either Natasha or Clint to full grasp the meaning behind. The next thing the SHIELD agents knew they were both being knocked to the ground by one of the CIA agents and that started the most _ridiculous_ fight in the history of spies.

Because nobody was actually trying to kill each other.

.

.

.

.

.

"You," Kate growled taking a swing at Clint's head, "are," she tried to deck him in the stomach, "such," she tried kicking him where it _hurts_, "-a pain in my ass!" she finished with a frustrated charge that actually managed to knock him to the ground only because he wanted to use the momentum to pin her to the floor instead. He hit the ground with an audible _thump_ and instantly flipped them over in the same moment.

"Man you just never give up do you?" Clint asked in surprise as she struggled against his iron grip on her wrists. She suddenly stilled and the next thing he knew he was being head butted right in the nose and fell flat on his back in a moment of paralyzing shock. He quickly rolled to his left before he could get a face full of her vicious boot and jumped to his feet as he wiped the blood from his face. He winced as he touched his nose.

"You broke my nose!" Clint exclaimed. Kate glared at him as she threw her foot in the air and tried to land a good hit on his head – he continued to whine and blocked her easily.

"You're violent for CIA. Are you their wild card or something?" Clint asked trying to get something out of her that wasn't just insults. Kate huffed in anger.

"Do you never shut up?" Kate growled as she took several steps away from him and suddenly whipped a well-aimed knife at his shoulder. Clint caught the unexpected flying projectile easily out of the air and stared at her accuracy.

"You like long distance battle," Clint said in surprise. Kate froze – but only for a second before she was swinging her killer fist aimed for his stomach while he barely avoided by jumping back just in time.

"How the hell would you know what?" she demanded. Clint furrowed his brow as they continued to exchange rapid punches.

"Your arms are toner and more muscular then the rest of your body. And you swing your punches like…like you're…an archer?" he said with slight confusion. He's never met anyone in their field who had the same calling as him. Sure Natasha and him had many things in common – but archery was definitely not one of them. He couldn't even use it often in the missions they were given recently which were more Natasha's specialties then his own. Kate's expression suddenly hardened and she was back to trying to kick him in the head again.

"Oh cut the crap you got Intel on me or something," Kate said irritably. Clint shook his and easily blocked her kick aimed at his chest. She wasn't even really trying he could tell. They were both more interested in talking then actually killing each other.

"Hey wanna be friends?" Clint asked suddenly. He's never asked someone that before – especially not during a fight where one of them might just end up dead or seriously injured. Sure Coulson and Natasha were his friends….but Coulson was more like his brother...and well Natasha was his partner. In whatever definite terms she deemed that tittle to include. Whatever she wanted was what he wanted at the end of the day.

"_Friends_? What are you? 9 years old?" Kate asked in disbelief right before she finally managed to land and hit and decked him in the face. Clint groaned as he hit the floor – why were all the women in his life so effective at kicking his ass?

.

.

.

.

.

.

On the other side of the room two tense silent agents were circling each other after a serious scuffle of rolling, punching and if Dmitri wasn't fast enough – some biting. She was _brutal_.

"Hey Russian cousin," Dmitri said tauntingly. Natasha tensed.

"We're _not_ cousins," Natasha growled dangerously. Dmitri smirked.

"No, probably not – but I'm half Russian because of my father, so let's see how well I can keep up with the famous Black Widow," he said raising his fists and telling her to come at him. Natasha narrowed his eyes. Boy wanted a fight? She'd give him a fight. Oh she would give him one _hell_ of a fight – without actually killing him unfortunately. Barton wouldn't be happy if she did that. Neither would the council…but she really didn't care about their opinion all that much.

The next thing Dmitri knew he had a wave of red hair flying at him with a knife in her hand. He instantly ducked as she swung the blade right at his stomach and when she redirected her blow to catch him unaware she instantly heard her knife clash against his own that had materialized out of nowhere. They both stared at one another for a tense second before they pushed away from each other. Natasha raised an eyebrow in question.

"Knives are my speciality honey," Dmitri said with a smirk. She scoffed as she backed away.

"Any hand held close range weapon is _my_ specialty," she said twirling her knife in her hand as she watched him carefully.

"You're not just an average government agent," Natasha said suddenly giving the half Russian a suspicious look. Dmitri shot her a disarming smile that had no effect on her _whatsoever_.

"What gave you that impression oh fiery mother Russia born one?" Dmitri said keeping a close eye on his opponent but ever so often his eyes would flash to the scuffle between their own partners near the safe. Natasha nearly dropped her indifferent mask and laughed herself to tears. And Bishop had the audacity to call her and Barton infatuated with each other?

"_Who did you work for before CIA_?" Natasha asked in Russian. Dmitri narrowed his eyes. She smiled internally – she _knew_ he'd understand.

"_None of your damn business,"_ he growled back in Russian before she barely avoided the knife aimed for her knee. Natasha neatly avoided the blade with a graceful back flip and landed on her feet several meters away from him.

"Have we met before?" Natasha asked suspiciously. Dmitri gave her a weird look as he slowly shook his head.

"Seriously Widow – I've never met you in my life before today," he said carefully watching her. She suddenly smirked and was twirling her knife in her hand again.

"Well good, I hate to build relations on bad blood – but I think I just won," Natasha said holding up the desired black box in her left hand. Dmitri's hand shot to his currently empty back pocket.

"Well aren't you just full of surprises?" he muttered, hell bent on getting the box _back_.

.

.

.

.

Clint expertly rolled away from her punches and quickly got to his feet before she come really stick it to him good.

"You don't have to do this Kate. We don't have to do this," Clint said carefully circling the CIA agent.

"SHIELD can't be trusted," Kate spat angrily. Clint paused – well that was new.

"Did your officials tell you that? Do you really think the American government is always looking out for the best interests of the innocent? Do you really think they don't have their own agendas? I think you're smarter then _that_ Bishop," he said slowly. Kate narrowed her eyes.

"Do you know the shit that is on this thing? Do you know the type of damage it can do?" Kate shot back angrily. Clint tensed.

"I don't know. That's the big problem. Why don't you tell me?" Clint asked slowly. He saw her eyes flash to the tense knife fight happening on their left and Clint wondered if she was looking at her partner or his own.

"Is she Red Room?" Kate asked carefully. Clint tensed. What did that have to do with anything?

"Why should that matter?" Clint asked dangerously. Kate's eyes flashed to his and they instantly darkened.

"You should ask her what they do to their field operatives between assignments – because that is exactly what they are planning to do to the countless kids who are trapped in cells right underneath your feet," she said damningly. Clint froze as his eyes shot to his feet. _No_.

All 4 of them froze as a sudden alarm went off in the underground base and the room was instantly flooded with red flashing lights – they were out of time.

"I thought you took them all out?" Clint asked carefully trying not to think about the kids who were sitting in the dark waiting for who knows what type of future. Dmitri and Kate both shared an intense look only long-term partners could have.

"Saito is here," they both said in unison. Clint and Natasha had their own staring matching across the room. She discreetly gesturing to the the box she had nicked from Bishop's partner and an impressed look settled in her eyes when he returned the gesture with the replica poking out of his back pocket. Bishop hadn't realized yet that he had already tricked her. There was only one question left to answer now.

_Should we try to be heroes or not? _

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: I wonder if they are going to try to save those kids? And I wonder if CIA will even help them. Of course the damn pissed Japanese gang is coming so they are on a time limit. **

**Review and let me know what you think! **


	70. Chapter 70

**I dare you **

**A/N: Ready to answer that hero question? You might be surprised. Not everyone has it in them to be a hero. **

**WARNING: Disturbing scenes. May be scarring? I don't know. Read with caution. **

**I would say enjoy – but you are not going to enjoy this chapter. **

**Chapter 70 **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

They all heard the red alert alarms going off in their ears and instantly flew into action.

"We have less than 12 minutes before they break down their own defense mechanisms built into this base – we need to leave," Kate said swiftly relieving one of the unconscious guards of their gun and giving her partner a pointed look. He nodded and caught the second weapon she threw at him.

"Sewers are always classic escape," he said dryly motioning towards the door with his gun.

Clint just stood there and stared at them. He _stared_. Natasha cautiously watched the dark telling signs of impending disaster flicker across his face - she knew him long enough to know when Barton was about to truly lose his cool. Last time he had that specific expression she was running for her life in Colombia. Natasha wasn't scared of anything – but she sure wasn't stupid enough to stick around when that type of anger was aimed at _her_. Clint took a steady breath as he watched the two agents prepare to bust out of here – forget the fact that they didn't even know they had already played them because Natasha and him had the chips – his hackles were rising because of something _else_.

"You just said there are kids trapped down here Bishop…" Clint said carefully with none of his simmering rage being revealed in his voice. Kate gritted her teeth and shot the assassin a burning look.

"There are thousands of kids trapped all over the _world_ Barton. If you're such a bleeding heart why are you working for a shadowy shit organization like SHIELD?" she asked heatedly. Natasha sighed and looked away - kid just doomed herself. Clint narrowed his eyes and clenched his hands into fists.

"If you're working for such a compassionate government organization like CIA why are you such a heartless _bitch_?" he shot back. Kate tensed and instantly aimed her gun at his forehead – Clint simply gave her a dangerous smile and didn't even flinch. He was done playing games.

"I dare you to shot me Bishop," he taunted. He doubted she had it in her to shoot him. She wasn't built like him and Natasha. Very few agents had the messy backgrounds that they did. Kate tightened her grip around the trigger and stared him down with her own sharp gaze.

"I'm not afraid of you. And I'm not about to get myself killed trying to save a group of children who are beyond saving you stupid righteous _idiot_," she growled shoving the gun harder against his forehead. He knew _nothing_. Clint took a sharp breath.

"It's call having the decency to _try_ Bishop. Did they teach you anything about that in little CIA agent training?" he asked spitefully. Kate tensed. Dmitri and Natasha locked eyes over each of their partner's shoulders – they really honestly didn't give a shit what went down as long as they got their respective partner out of this mess alive and _mostly_ sane. If the two head butting agents kept this up both those goals seemed unlikely to happen.

"Decency? You call working as cheapass hit men for an illegal organization that operates outside the law _decent_?" Kate asked in utter disgust. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"We do a lot more than just kill people Bishop," Clint said carefully. Kate laughed darkly and Clint instantly threw up his steel walls for the coming on slaughter. She was too young to understand. She hasn't seen enough to understand. Only one person truly understood him. And he was forcing her to watch him place himself in the line of fire to prove to a young and reckless agent she didn't know shit about the world around her.

"Really? So how many people have you killed that didn't deserve to die Hawkeye? I heard about you a couple of years ago you know. You were a hot shot assassin for hire that went around leaving arrows in people's chest. Your personal hit list is longer than probably all my department's necessary kills combined. You are a god damn out of control _monster_!" Kate shouted angrily. Clint ignored how her words tore at his guilt like _nothing_ anyone has ever said and he angrily shook in place.

"You know _nothing_ about my past," Clint hissed dangerously close to knocking her own gun out of her hand and showing her she was _definitely_ not the one in control here. He could have killed her 50 times over in the last 30 seconds. Bishop had no idea how god damn stupid she was. She clenched her jaw in anger.

"I know enough to know that even SHIELD doesn't trust you fully – otherwise, why would you be on their internal watch list?" she said bitingly. Clint froze. When the hell did she hack their systems to find something like _that_?

"You're one piece of work yourself Bishop. If I looked up your own file I wonder what I would find under all the classified labels. I wonder how innocent your partner is because he sure as _hell_ doesn't look like a paper cut out American recruit. What hell hole did you go through to find him huh?" Clint said dangerously. He instantly watched the colour drain from her face and he _knew_ he hit the nail on the head.

"_Shut up_!" Kate shouted as she slammed her eyes shut and let off a bullet from her gun.

BANG!

She instantly felt someone jerk her arm back and heard the bullet bury itself into the wall across the room. Her eyes flashed open and she found herself staring into the dark eyes of a seriously pissed American assassin- he definitely wasn't dead. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"You _missed_– if you're going to try and kill an assassin you better make sure you _never_ miss," Clint said darkly as the blood dripped down the side of his face – the bullet had grazed the side of his head and left a 2 inch cut on his forehead. She had reacted too fast for him to completely redirect her merciless shot.

Kate stared at the bleeding assassin and then finally noticed the rough hand wrapped around her wrist. It was _his_ hand. Shit.

"If I was anyone else Bishop – _anyone else_ - you'd be _dead_," Clint said threateningly dropping her hand like it was on fire. Kate tensed.

"Shut up you sick bastard!" Kate growled – she was fearless and it was going to get her killed.

"That's _enough_ Kate!" Dmitri said instantly grabbing her by the forearm and dragging her away before she got herself killed by a clearly unstable assassin. She was so damn reckless it pissed him off.

"Oh _now_ you're telling me to shut up?" Clint shouted back instantly taking a step forward because he was _not_ done with this conversation. He tensed when his tunnel vision on Bishop's angry face instantly got replaced with red hair and steeled green eyes. Clint froze as his instincts instantly recognized a real threat. Bishop might be a baby agent – but his partner would honestly own his ass. Especially with the simmering rage in her eyes.

Oh shit she was _pissed_.

"Barton we're leaving – _now_," Natasha said instantly walking in front of him and staring him down, _daring_ him to argue her order. She placed her hand on his chest and firmly shoved him back away from the retreating pair of agents behind them. He tried to open his mouth to protest anyway but she cut him off before he could even start.

"_Keep_ walking Barton," Natasha said warningly. She was in control now and he was going to damn well _listen_ to her every word. Clint wanted to tell her to go fuck herself and let him finish what he started but the cold determined look in her eyes told him she wasn't above restraining him if she had to. He clenched his jaw in frustration – he wasn't stupid enough to think he would win if he went head on with a clearly fed up Russian assassin – even if she _did_ care about him enough not to actually kill him. Instead he reigned in his anger and turned around to stomp down the hall Natasha was forcing him to walk through. He would have never even looked back once if it wasn't for these last words.

"I _hate_ hypocrites like you!" Kate shouted, taking one last stab at his own ledger as her partner forcefully dragged her towards the exit. Dmitri shook his head in disbelief and shoved her ahead of him before she did any more damage and got them _both_ killed. Clint spun around and glared _daggers_ at her. Natasha's tight death grip on the back of his shirt was the _only_ thing keeping him from going after those two bastards.

"I hate passive heartless pieces of shit who let little girls _die_ on their watch like _you_!" he bellowed across the hall completely out of breath by the end of his outburst. He was breathing deep harsh breaths as he watched the two agents disappear around the corner and his vision blurred from the red he was seeing. He felt like he was being consumed by his feelings of betrayal and anger when a cool hand suddenly pressed against his cheek and knocked the clarity right into his mind. He was leaning into her touch before he even realized it.

"We have 9 minutes to do whatever you want to do Barton," she said carefully making him aware of their very real time limit. They had 9 minutes before they were going to have to face an army. He instantly spun around and cupped her face in between his palms and dragged her body against his. The only reason she let him do that was because of the desperate look in his eyes – he looked like a man who needed an anchor in a storm that was taking over his world at the moment.

"You're going to do this with me Tasha?" he whispered with painful hope bleeding through his tone.

"9 minutes Barton," she said carefully avoiding giving him a direct answer. He noticed. He always did. His eyes fell and he held her face more firmly in his gasp.

"Are you doing this for me or because it's the right thing to do Tasha?" he asked desperately needing to know the answer – whichever one it would be. He _needed_ to know. He needed _her_ – but he needed her to be here for the right reasons more. Natasha shut her eyes and took a deep breath as she felt his warm hands shake slightly pressed against her cheeks. She had a feeling someone important was going to die today.

"Don't make me lie," she said quietly. Clint nearly felt his heart shatter and break in half. God why was he surrounded by people who didn't believe they could help anyone?

"It's the right thing to do Tasha. Do it because it's the right thing to do. _Please_," he begged shaking her slightly. Natasha's eyes flew open and anger flash across her sharp gaze. "I'm here Barton. I'm still _here_ – isn't that good enough?" she asked in frustration. Bishop and her partner left. SHIELD didn't even tell them about the sex trafficking because they didn't want them to try to save people that weren't directly related to the success of their mission. The world itself turned their backs on kids who had no one left to fight for them. Clint steeled his eyes. He would fight for them. He didn't need _anyone_ else except his partner to stand by his side.

Because she was the _only_ one still here. Natasha took a deep breath.

"I'm not like you Clint– I don't think I'll ever be like you - but I'll be here for you okay?" she said staring at him dead in the eye. She wasn't going to lie to him. If she was here alone she wouldn't try and save anyone because the odds of any of them getting out alive before they were hunted down and shot dead were next to zero. That and the fact that if what Bishop said was true about this being like the red room…they were going to be too late anyway. But she didn't tell him that. She knew he would try either way.

"Okay," he said quietly before he simply grabbed her hand and dragged her down the hall towards the stair case that would take then down to the last level of the underground base. Natasha stared at his rough hand wrapped tightly around her wrist – he was holding onto her like a lifeline. She doubted she really qualified to be anyone's anything – but she didn't think it was a role she could avoid as his partner and…whatever else she meant to him. Natasha felt her eyes glaze over slightly as she continued to stare at the back of her partner's head.

She couldn't tell him that the only reason she was here was because he needed her – because deep down she wanted to run the other way and never look back. Finding those girls in the basement was the last thing she wanted to do. Natasha bit her tongue until she tasted the disgusting metallic taste of blood and fought down the urge to throw up as memories drenches in red started flashing across her eyes. Barton still didn't know certain things about her past.

There were some things she never wanted him to know.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

_13 year old Natalia Romanov stood silently in front of her dark haired trainer as he stared her down. She stared back with a frighteningly emotionless expression. No 13 year old should be able to make such a blank expression like that. _

"_You're final assignment is today," her trainer's rough voice broke the oppressing silence. _

"_Okay," Natalia said blankly. She really didn't care. It would be just like every other assignment she's been given over the last 4 years. _

"_Who's the target?" she asked carefully looking at his hands and expected to see a folder full of target Intel she would have to memorize before departure. All she saw was air and empty hands. _

_Empty hands made her pause. _

"_Your targets are all sitting behind that window," he said pointing towards the observation room behind her. Natalia furrowed her eyes. _

"_A captured target? Why would something like that be my final…" Natalia tensed as she finally caught sight of who exactly were her targets. _

_12 girls were sitting shoulder to shoulder in the overly crowded cell that was only meant for a maximum of 3 people. But that was not what got to her. What got to her was that fact that all 12 girls were the girls she has trained with over the last 4 years in the Black Widow program. _

_They were going to die. _

_And she was meant to pull the trigger. _

"_No," Natalia said dropping the gun and letting it clatter to the floor in front of her. Her trainer gave her a steady look. That was the wrong things to say and a very bad thing to do. He instantly back handed her across the face and Natalia only managed to hold back a flinch out of sheer will. _

_She turned her head to the side and fought to keep the angry tears from spilling over. They were impossible to hide when the strike hurt so damn much. _

"_Strong assets don't cry," her trainer said ruthlessly. _

"_I'm not crying!" Natalia growled at him even as the water shined in her eyes. He narrowed his eyes. _

"_Lying to your superiors is worse than crying," he continued dangerously before he promptly jabbed something in her neck and she passed out before she even hit the ground. _

_What felt like moments later Natalia woke up with a huge piercing pain originating from the back of her head. She opened her eyes and looked around to see 12 equally terrified faces. She was instantly on her feet in seconds and plastered herself against the wall – she wasn't going to do it. She refused to take out the girls she has grown up with for 4 years. _

"_Natalia," the deep voice of her trainer filtered through the speaker in the cell. _

"_No," she said defiantly. Nothing. Nothing would make her change her mind. Her trainer sighed and stepped away from the one way observation window. _

"_Seal off the chamber," the dark haired man said quietly before he spun on his heels and walked out of the Widow was going to learn a serious lesson.  
_

"_Natalia? What's going on?" one of the youngest blond girls asked shakily tugging on her sleeve. Natalia pulled away from her and slammed her eyes shut. She wasn't going to break. She wasn't going to break. She wasn't going to break._

"_She's bleeding. Why is she bleeding?" someone shouted in distress. _

_Natalia was silent. She knew what they were trying to do. They were trying to break her by using these girls against her. She heard one of the older girls scream in pain and instantly slammed her hands over her ears. Damn it was starting. _

"_Let me out! Please let me out!" one of them shouted banging uselessly against the metal cell door. _

_And just like that - one by one Natalia watched all her friends drop like flies. The last girl still standing was the little blond girl who barely had 9 years under her belt kneeling beside her, staring at her with wide fearful eyes. Natalia didn't know what to say – she had seconds left. _

"_Nat?" the girl whispered shakily. Natalia instantly locked her deep horror away inside of her and gave the little girl the warmest smile she could manage. If she could give her nothing else – she could give her that one moment of peace. _

"_Everything is going to be okay," Natalia said soothingly running her hand through the little girl's blond hair. The girl smiled back weakly and took one last deep breath before she closed her eyes. _

_And then she died. _

_Natalia fell to her knees surrounded by the 12 dead bodies of the girls she had come to know as her own family. She never had a family before – and she never will. _

"_I'm not broken. I'm not broken. I'm not broken," she chanted shakily and she covered her ears trying to stop the echoing screams and sobs of the 12 girls she spent the last 4 years training with ringing in her ears. It wasn't even the screams that did her in. It was the one question. _

_Why didn't you kill us before they did Nat? Why didn't you kill us before they did?_

"_I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Natalia sobbed into her knees. _

_After 6 hours there were no more tears. _

_After 12 hours she could no longer even dry sob._

_After 24 hours Natalia was practically catatonic as she stared at the wall across from her completely blind to the dead eyes of a little blond girl propped against the wall who was staring right back at her. _

_She was stuck in a 9 feet by 4 feet cell with 12 dead little girls for 3 silent days before they finally let her out. Her eyes were never the same after that day. _

_She never cried a single true tear after that day. She learned an important lesson – death by a friend was always mercy compared to death by the devil. She should have killed them painlessly when she had the chance. That would have been her mercy. _

_She never refused a kill after that day. _

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Natasha blinked and took a sharp breath as something warm in her hand dragged her out of her memories and back into the present. Someone was talking – talking to her. She turned her ears back on and tried to hear what was going on.

"Tasha? Tasha? _Natasha_ did you hear what I said? We're almost there," Clint said shooting her a cautious look over his shoulder. It took her a moment to disassociate memory from reality. She stared at him for a moment until all the memories of the missions they've been on together flooded her mind and replaced all the bad memories with better ones. Cuba. New York. Spain. Colombia. Panama. Italy. Japan. Most of her memories with him were good ones - even the ones that were not so great were still bearable. Their current situation instantly clicked.

Barton. SHIELD. Partners. Shit mission. Children. Trafficking. Basement. Running out of time. _Right._ That took 5 seconds longer then she was comfortable with.

"Almost there – got it," she muttered looking away from his concerned gaze.

He was silent for a moment. She knew his silences were just moments for him to build up enough courage to ask her something he shouldn't be asking. She dreaded his question.

"What did they do to you between assignments Natasha?" Clint finally asked quietly. Bishop mentioned that and he had to know. Natasha relaxed slightly. That she could answer.

"Asset memory cleansing," she said emotionlessly. There were things they weren't allowed to remember after a mission. He tensed.

"How many times did they do that to you Tasha? How many times?" he asked darkly. Natasha took a deep breath.

"I don't remember," she said looking away from his intense gaze. Clint clenched his jaw in anger.

"I'll kill them. I'll kill them for doing that to you," he said heatedly. Natasha laughed humorlessly and shook her head. Oh Barton. He always wanted to save her – but honestly she didn't think there was much left to save. He was too late. The little girl that needed saving had already died and she was just the hardened shell left in her place. She never understood why he wanted a ghost of the girl she used to be. She never understood why he wanted _her_. She didn't understand – but she didn't think she could live without whatever they were building between them anymore. She didn't understand it – but she wanted it. God did she want it. It was the only thing she ever wanted. It was just so hard to tell _him_ that.

"If only brainwashing was the worst of it Clint. Sometimes I wish they would take _all_ my memories…instead of just taking the ones that mattered the most and leaving only nightmares behind," she ending in barely a whisper. She would never tell him. She would never tell him what her nightmares are about. She didn't think she could get through it in one piece.

"_Natasha_…" he said stopping in front of a metal door that he knew was the one they've been looking for. He spun around and instantly griped her shoulders in his firm grasp. Natasha didn't react – they didn't have time for this. This would have to come later.

"Something is wrong." he whispered searching her eyes for something she would never let him see – couldn't let him see. She simply stared back with deceptively calm eyes.

"5 minutes Barton," she said quietly pulling away from him. She wasn't going to let him see anything – not here. Not when they were still in the middle of the line of fire. She would never allow herself to be compromised in a place like this. She locked away the internal turmoil like she always does and to deal with it later. Right now she was agent Romanoff trying to make sure her partner didn't do something stupid that went and got them both killed.

"You're not telling me something Tasha," he whispered worriedly brushing his hand across her cheek and through her tangled red hair. Natasha tensed – why was he making this so damn _difficult_?

"_Later_ Barton," Natasha said starting to feel her temper begin to rise. Barton searched her face one more time and finally sighed and back off when she gave him nothing.

"Later it better be Tasha," he muttered under his breath as he turned back towards the metal door. He took a deep breath and promptly kicked open the door with his boot and watched it swing inward and slam against the wall. He instantly ducked when a bullet was fired through the entrance followed by the flash of blond hair. He locked up and his eyes immediately locked with sharp blue eyes. He froze – it was a little girl – an _armed_ little girl.

"Whoa. Hey kid, why do you have gun?" Clint asked slowly holding up his hand in a non-threatening manner. Natasha tensely watched the exchange happen from behind him. Damn if Barton died from a gunshot from a 10 year old she'd bring him from the dead and kill him _herself_.

"Get out," the girl said holding the loaded pistol leveled with his chest. Damn what was it with girls and holding guns aimed at his vitals today?

"Hey are you stuck here? Do you want help?" Clint said giving the girl a sincere look but she didn't even look phased. She clearly didn't trust him. Well in a place like this he wouldn't trust any strange men who kicked open doors either.

"Stop talking," the girl said angrily. Clint shook his head and slowly crouched down to get a good look at her face framed by dirty blond hair that would likely look beautiful when washed and properly taken care of.

"We're not them. We're not here to hurt you," Clint said slowly making sure to keep direct eye contact with the clearly shaken little girl. He glanced behind her and saw something like 20 other girls of all different nationalities sitting quietly in a line of prison cells.

The girl with the gun was the only one not locked in a cell. What the hell was going on?

"Barton…" Natasha said carefully. Clint's sharp mind was already way ahead of her. Something was wrong. Something was really, really wrong with this picture.

"What's your name?" he asked softly trying not to spook the blond girl. She stared at him for a long moment and Clint knew they were running out of time and hoped she would back down and let them help them before they got overrun by Saito and his stupid little army. The girl glanced down at the gun in her hand and Clint knew she's never shot that thing at someone in her life. He really hoped she'd never have to.

"My name is Natalie," the girl said quietly. Clint instantly felt his partner freeze behind him and before he could do anything she was already backing away from the cells. He _knew_ there was something wrong with her. He didn't have time to check on her though because Natalie's eyes suddenly shot up and locked with his preventing him from moving even an inch – he was trapped in her haunted gaze. He's seen her eyes before – he's seen it in his partner's eyes. He froze. Oh god no. "But you can't save us. No one can," she whispered before she turned away from him and actually _willingly_ walked back into the cell closest to the door and sat down beside 3 other silent girls. There was clearly no one guarding the prison – they could make a run for it if they wanted to – but they chose to just stay here even while the alarms have been going off for the past 10 minutes.

Clint had no _idea_ what the hell was going on.

Clint wanted to protest. He wanted to fight and tell them it wasn't true. He wanted to show them that you can take freedom by the reins and take control of your own life. He wanted to tell them that _no one_ was beyond saving. If Coulson could save a worthless ex-military solider turned assassin like him, if he could save a Russian assassin no more virtuous then himself, if people like them were given the chance to be saved, then it was his obligation to try to save these girls too. He took a hesitant step forward and pulled open the cell door. He need to try to reason with them – even though he knew he needed to go deal with whatever his partner was mentally going through out in the hall by herself. He gave himself 2 minutes before he would be forced to go after her – he didn't trust Natasha by herself longer than that.

"Natalie…" he started to say but something in her sharp eyes stopped his words in his throat. Something that looked too much like resignation and a deep soul shattering truth. She shook her head at him and he thinks his heart finally shattered irreparably when he saw her eyes glaze over before she promptly blinked the tears away and become a strong statue again.

"Go away – before the bad men get here," she said harshly. Clint firmly shook his head.

"I'm not leaving if you're all still here. You're not stuck. You can get out," Clint said pleadingly. Natalie gritted her teeth and gave him a piercing glare.

"You just don't _get_ it! We're dead before we get 20 meters away from the brothel! _Dead_!" Natalie growled pulling down the collar of her shirt and revealing the deep intrusive scars that ran along the length of her collar bone. Clint felt the breath get knocked right out of his lungs. Bomb implants. They were all rigged to be taken out the second they got a certain distance from the compound.

They were already branded child slaves.

"_No_," he whispered as he fell to his knees in front of the doomed little girl. They all felt the telltale blast shake the floor above them and he knew that the first floor of the base just got breached. They were out of time.

"They're coming," Natalie said in a defeated tone, wrapping her arms around her knees and burying her face in her knees. Clint had no more words – he didn't know what he could say. There was nothing he could say.

"Leave. If you leave they'll keep us alive. If you stay we're all dead before we can even blink," Natalie said quietly.

Clint just stared at her with conflicted eyes. He's never had to make that choice before. He heard the thundering sound of several feet hit the floor above them and he knew he _had_ to go.

"I'm sorry," he whispered painfully. Natalie didn't look at him. He stumbled out of their cell and glanced at all the little faces he couldn't do anything for. He couldn't do a _god damn_ thing.

"I-I'm so _sorry_," he whispered nearly bringing himself to ashamed tears.

Nobody said a word to the broken man.

The base was never meant to keep the kids in – it was meant to keep prying eyes out.

_That's_ why Bishop didn't want to come. Him being here just doomed them all. He didn't think he had enough space on his ledger to allow that. He staggered into the hall, his eyes half glazed with pain and he instantly zoned in on his partner curled up in a tight ball with her hands tightly held against her ears – what sound she was trying to block out he didn't know. He only knew one thing at the moment.

He needed to get her _out_. If Natasha Romanoff was the _only_ person he could save in this nightmare he would make god damn sure she got out of here – with her sanity intact. He couldn't lose her.

If he lost her – he lost _everything_.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Oh…my…god. Is anyone else crying? Just a **_**little**_**? I was tearing up just a little. **

**I really messed him up in this chapter. I'm so, so sorry Clint! You have such a big heart and I crushed it with a hammer of angst and despair. And poor Natasha going through nightmare memory relapse. Poor everybody really. **

**Review and let me know if you want to know how this mission is going to end. **

**One chapter left in Japan. **

**That was a whole lot of feels. Depressing angsty feels. **


	71. Chapter 71

**I dare you **

**A/N: Mission finale time? You did not see this coming just to let you know. I didn't even see it coming until this morning. **

**Have fun! THIS CHAPTER IS INSANE! BUT FUN IF YOU LIKE PLOT TWISTS THAT IS! Sorry fluff train – we're putting you on the backseat for just a bit longer. **

**WARNING: Get ready to grieve for their relationship. **

**You get to meet someone interesting this chapter! **

**Excited? Or anxious? **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**. **

**Chapter 71 **

Clint's mind was on autopilot as he instantly shoved all the internal turmoil he was feeling into a dark compartment in the back of his head and locked it away to deal with later. He compartmentalized way too many emotions for it to be healthy but right now he didn't have a choice. He grabbed onto the wall when another explosion shook the falling apart underground base. It felt like their entire world was falling apart around them. He quickly steeled himself against his own mental breakdown and dropped to his knees in front of his shaking partner.

"Natasha? Natasha! _Tasha_ you have to snap out of it or we're both going to die down here!" he said furiously trying to keep his own emotions under control. He heard more voices on the floors above them and he knew he had less than 8 minutes to get them out before they were both shot dead. Natasha could barely hear anything he was saying over the loud static chaos raging in her head.

"Why are they still screaming? They're dead. They're dead. They're _dead_," she repeated as she slammed her eyes shut and they both ignored the piece of the ceiling that just fell through to the ground not even 3 feet to their left. Clint inhaled a sharp breath – they were about to be dead _themselves_. He roughly grabbed her face in one hand and forced her to look up at his face.

"Hey - look at me! Look at me Tasha! _I'm _real! Whatever you're seeing is not real Natasha!" he said firmly shaking her back and forth. Natasha's eyes flashed open and she angrily gritted her teeth. She tensed as she saw hundreds of faces – bloody or not - flashed across her vision with Barton's intense expression lurking in the background. She couldn't tell which image was more real.

"How do you know it's not real? How do I even know if _you're_ real?" she shouted trying to close her eyes again - but he wouldn't let her. He let the gun in his right hand clatter to the floor and grabbed both her hands before he slammed them into the wall behind her – forcing her to looking up and fiercely glare at him – glaring was good. Glaring meant she was still with him.

"Because I have nothing to do with your past Natasha! _Nothing_! I'm only a part of your _future_!" he shouted back forcefully trying to get her to break free from her demons for just 3 minutes. 3 minutes was all he needed to get her to the sewer entrance and out of this base before it exploded. Natasha shook her head and let her red hair sweep across her face.

"Past. Present. Future. It's all same Barton," she said with a dark laugh that almost sounded hysterical – if Natasha was prone to hysteria that was. Clint angrily narrowed his eyes.

"No it's _not_ Tasha! It's only all the same when you don't try to _change_!" he said heatedly. Natasha suddenly lost the heated slightly crazy look in her eyes at it got replaced with…defeat. She suddenly gave him a weak smile. He was floored. What the hell?

"My life is never going to change Barton. It's always going to be drenched in red. Sooner or later it's going to go back to being exactly the same and I'll be doing the same unredeemable things as I was before. I'm just on a time limit before everything resets," she said suddenly sounding extremely tired all of a sudden. Clint's eyes hardened in suspicion.

"What the hell are you talking about Tasha? What the hell is going on?" he asked tightly gripping her shoulders even as the ground started to tremble. Their window of escape was rapidly closing.

Minutes. They had _minutes_.

Natasha tensed as she felt something start slipping at the back of her head and saw the first signs of the moment she's been dreading for nearly a year now.

It was _early_.

"_Shit. Shit._ _Shit_. It's happening sooner than I thought," Natasha swore as she started seeing black blanks start appearing in her mind. Clint froze.

"What? What is happening?" he asked in serious alarm. Natasha angrily shook her head. She didn't have time to explain. When her eyes steeled in determination Clint knew something was about to going horrendously, utterly, and ridiculously wrong.

"Barton-," she stared carefully but he cut her off.

"No Natasha you need to tell-"

"_Barton_-,"

"Natasha what the hell-"

"Clint _shut up!_ I have 40 seconds before I'm going to pass out and you're going to be on your own for at least a little while okay?" she said forcefully talking over his protests and instantly shutting him up – almost.

"What. The. _Fuck_?" he said dangerously. She didn't even flinch from the serious threat in his tone. He was an assassin. She was an assassin. He hardly had the capacity to scare her. Natasha took a shaky breath and looked like she was losing the battle of trying to _catch_ her breath.

"I lied. I know how many times I've been wiped clean. I've been reset 6 times since I was 20. Find the stupid bastard name James Barnes - he'll know how to reverse it - but don't trust him," she said seriously before she used the last of her dwindling strength that was rapidly leaving her body to roughly drag him forward and slam her lips against his. Clint froze and tried to frantically mumble something about time restraints and dying in ashes against her lips but she just intertwined their left hands together and buried her right hand into the hair on the back of his neck. Clint lost himself in her embrace for moment because their relationship was too new. It was too fresh. Natasha has barely had to time to initiate anything other than the few kisses that he could count on his hands – even if he lost a finger. Clint nearly lost his balance when she suddenly gripped his shirt and slammed his overheated body into hers. He felt every curve, every solid muscle, every inch of her fit body align with his. He felt like he was on fire – and he didn't necessarily mind.

It wasn't the highly physically part that was making his head spin though. He was stunned by the sheer amount of emotion she was pouring into the rough borderline _desperate_ kiss. Natasha _never_ shows that much emotion. He wanted it. Of course he always wanted it. He wanted her to drop her walls and show him what she really felt for him – but not like this. He didn't want her to kiss him like this. He suddenly froze as a buck of water fell on his head and cleared his distracting thoughts filled with striking red hair, sexy swaying hips and sharp green eyes.

Because he knew exactly what type of kiss this was - she was saying _goodbye_.

_Why the hell was she doing that? _

They both heard their perfected internal clock count down the last 5 seconds of her self-imposed time limit.

5

4

3

2

1

Natasha pulled back with a painful gasp and took one last deep breath as she stared at her partner dead in eyes. They were both breathing heavily and Clint didn't know how to explain exactly what he was feeling at the moment- it was all too much. She was too much. He feels like his brain was about to short-circuit and completely burn out. She reached up and placed a weak hand against his blood stained cheek.

"I'm sorry Clint - don't let Natalia kill you," she said quietly while _almost_ sounding regretful and he has never seen that many emotions flashing across her usually blank green eyes – her eyes were saying so many things he couldn't keep up with the speed enough to read it all.

"_Tasha_!" he gasped trying to catch his breath. She didn't even leave him enough breath to say more than that. She gave him a soft smile before she finally felt the darkness take over her mind and passed out. Clint caught her body easily and just stared at him partner's limp figure and fell to his knees in disbelief. He honest to god felt like crying right now.

He thinks he just lost her.

He was pretty damn sure he just lost his partner.

He really thought he might just be on the verge of losing his mind at this point. He froze as he saw a yellow substance start to coat the floor in a thick wet layer of a familiar liquid. Flammable liquid.

"Gasoline..._shit_!" he swore before he burst into action. He was instantly sweeping his arms under his partner's waist and back and swinging her effortlessly into his arms – he refused to die and he sure as hell refused to let _her_ die.

"When you wake up and after I shout at you for being an idiot we have a lot of shit to talk about," he growled under his breath. He would later realize that was the last conversation he would have with his partner for a long time. He tried not to think about the 20 little girls they were being forced to abandon unless they wanted to die down here with them.

Clint Barton was a lot of things. He was a man of action. He was a man with a solid if slightly skewed morals. He was a man who was filled with regret and consumed with the burning need to redeem himself.

But he wasn't a martyr. He would die to _protect_ Natasha. He would die _fighting_ to protect innocent people.

But he wouldn't lie down and wait to die _with_ them. He was selfish. He told Natasha before that he was selfish. He was selfish enough to want to survive against all odds. He didn't mind dying in a fight – but that didn't mean he wanted to die quietly. He couldn't shake the instinctual desire to survive and fight back no matter how much he tried. That was his darkest flaw and he wasn't proud of it. He just added 20 names to his ledger and he would have to deal with it just like he has with all the other names for the past 5 years. Maybe one day at least half the names on his ledger will deserve to be there.

That day was not today.

Today was_ - one breakdown at a time. One breakdown at a time_. _One breakdown at a time_. That was how his life worked.

Story of his _life_.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Locked door. Locked door. Locked door. Locked door. _Shit_. He needed to find an escape route and he need to find it _now_.

Clint took a deep breath as his sensitive hearing picked up the racing sound of no less than 30 men storming down the hall around the corner. He glanced down at the _insane_ girl in his arms and knew she wasn't going to like what he had to do to giving them a fighting chance.

"Tasha you're _so_ going to kill me but I need to kill these bastards first otherwise you're going to end up shot dead while still unconscious if I get shot down _anyway_!" he said angry at himself that he's being forced to hurt her over and over and over again. _Damn it and he was supposed to look out for her._

He rounded the corner and finally caught sight of the boiler room – boiler rooms means sewers. Sewers for a normal person meant a cruel practical joke. Sewers for an assassin meant _freedom_. Clint didn't even stopped to breath, he just used his gun to fire at the lock and used his shoulder to shove open the door and quickly scanned the steam filled room to find a momentarily good place to leave a knocked out person. He heard the gunfire one hall away from them and quickly laid down his partner in a corner best hidden from the view from the entrance. He grabbed his gun and lingered for just a moment with his fingers gently brushing against her eyelids. He felt his heart hurt and tried to ignore it as best as he could.

"We're going to be okay Tasha," he promised earnestly. If that was the last thing he said to her he wanted to make sure it was her name – the one _he_ gave her.

He slipped her red handled knife out of her waistband and stuffed it in his back pocket – at least a part of her would be in the fight with him then. He pushed himself off the ground and every step he took away from her made his cold mask get firmer and firmer. The mask wouldn't be coming off until he saw her alive and still breathing and out of this _country._ Clint's eyes darkened.

If Natasha died in this mess – he was done. He would burn this company to the ground and all the bastards who ran the smuggling operation with it. And before he got himself killed he would go after the people who messed with her head so damn bad she questioned her own _reality_.

He would die in Moscow _after_ he watched the Red Room go up in flames.

He slammed the door shut behind him just as the army of masked hit men rounded the corner with 30 guns trained on his person. Clint popped the safety off his own gun but shoved it into his back pocket as he stared them down. He didn't need a gun to do what he needed to do.

There was a echoing silence as they all stared each other down even as the explosive noise continued above them – these men were here on a suicide mission. Good thing he had no more mercy left to give.

"Come and get me," Clint said darkly as he cracked his knuckles tauntingly. He was sick and tired of innocent people dying around him who weren't supposed to. He wanted to physically kill someone who deserved to die for a god damn change.

It wasn't a pleasant thought. Frankly - he wasn't a pleasant person.

Everything was a whirlwind of action after that.

"_This_," he ducked and gutted a random assailant in the stomach with Natasha's knife, "is why," he growled as roughly knocked another man in the chest instantly crushing his ribs," I MISS MY ARROWS!" he shouted angrily spinning around and slamming his elbow into the neck of yet another attacker and shattering his windpipe on impact. He _hated_ hand to hand combat. Sure he absolutely loved sparing with Natasha but he missed his sniper rifle, he missed his arrows – he missed his god damn _bow_. He used Natasha's signature move and snapped the neck of the man who came at him from his left. He tensed when he felt a thick meaty arm wrap around his own neck and put him in a chock hold. His eyes steeled – bad move.

"If I get out of this alive – I _refuse_ the next espionage mission SHIELD is going to throw our way!" Clint vowed himself with an angry expression before he promptly threw his head back and smashed it into his chocker's face. Clint felt the dangerous grip around his neck instantly loosen as the man fell away from the pulsing archer - dead before he even hit the ground.

Clint spun around with his bloody fists raised ready for the next attacker – but there was no one left standing except for him. That was too damn short.

Clint instantly stopped moving and took a moment to breathe heavily as he stood in the bloody center of a circle of dead hit men. He shook his head in disgust even as he heard more feet pounding on the shaky floor above him. He knew he had less than 4.5 minutes before they would send the next team down to eliminate him. His eyes darkened.

He was a _very_ difficult target to eliminate. Especially when he was angry enough to burn the entire criminal world to the ground.

"That is the largest hit count I've had in months," he muttered while scanning the utter mess of bodies that surrounded him. His thoughts suddenly came to a screeching halt.

_Natasha_. He was flying down the hall before her name had even fully registered in his thoughts.

He threw open the boiler room door and his eyes instantly zoned in on the corner where he had left his unconscious partner.

And yet there no Russian assassin in sight.

He tensed. There was no one else here. He was only gone for 2 minutes. There was no possible way they could have gotten in here.

So where was she?

He felt the looming threat due to sheer instincts alone before he heard the gun fire and instantly dropped to the floor and rolled out of the way before the second following shot chipped the cement off the floor where he was occupying seconds ago. He instantly pushed himself to his feet and rapidly scanned the dimly lit room filled with gigantic boiler machinery – plenty of places to hide.

"Whoa! It's me - calm down Tasha!" he called out while holding his hands up trying to see where she was hiding. He turned around and instantly walked into a gun. He froze as he stared at the deadliest green eyes he has seen in years. _She was awake –_ that thought only gave him 3 seconds of relief.

"кто, черт возьми? (_Who the fuck are you?),"_ she growled shoving her gun into his face. Clint paused and his mind went blank.

_Oh. _

_That's what she meant when she said I was going to be on my own for a while. _

Change of tactics then.

"Меня зовут Клинт Бартон - как тебя зовут? _(My name is Clint Barton – what's your name?)_" he asked deceptively calm. Inside he was royally, thoroughly and madly freaking out. What _happened_ to you Tasha? He watched her face tighten ever so slightly in a way he knew she was caught off guard by his fluent Russian. She wasn't about to sing him praise though.

"You speak Russian like you are a native Japanese taught by a tone deaf Italian," she said point blank switching to English with only the slightest accent – but the Natasha he knew spoke English flawlessly. Also, her cold tone left a lot to be desired. Clint simply stared at her. Now that was harsh.

"So I've been told," he said dryly. Natasha's eyes suddenly darkened. She hated cocky Americans. She hated cocky men in general.

"I'm going to kill you," she said with conviction. Clint heard serious warning bells go off in his head – she wasn't kidding. _Oh shit she was not kidding._

Time to be diplomatic – assassin styled diplomacy.

"_Natasha_…the base is about to be overrun and we are going to be captured or more likely shot on sight if we don't leave right now," he said carefully. She tightened her hand around her gun – but she didn't fire. _Baby steps._

"My name is not Natasha," she said tightly as she backed away from him. Clint took a deep breath as he watched her watch _him_ with a killer calculative look in her eyes. Oh shit he was screwed. He could read her mission expressions after so many months of working together. Either she planned to shoot him again in the next 10 seconds or she wanted something from him. He was _really_ hoping for the latter – for both their sakes.

"Okay…so are you still Natalia in your head then?" he asked carefully. Her green eyes suddenly flashed in clear anger. That was as close to a yes he knew would be getting.

"I don't know who the fuck you are but shut up and stop acting like you know me!" she growled before she angrily fired at a slight angle to his left and instantly chipped his shoulder with the speed of her bullet.

"_Fuck_!" Clint hissed and nearly dropped to his knees in pain. Oh she was really pissed – but that wasn't a killing shot. She wasn't going to kill him. Not yet.

"Take that as you're only warning and leave me the _hell_ alone!" she shouted at him. Clint sucked in a sharp breath and glared at her. They both knew she was lying through her teeth. She was scared. She didn't want him to leave. All the information she has right now is that she just woke up in a burning facility and he was currently the only one who knew anything about her situation – she needed him – at least for the moment.

But she sure as hell wasn't about to tell him that.

"I'm not leaving you alone like this Natalia. You have no idea the type of danger you're in-" he started to try and reason with her – but obviously she was beyond reason at the moment. Any nervous and wounded assassin would all usual be in fight or flight mode at _this_ point.

"The only danger I see is _you_!" she spat while cutting him off. Clint tensed.

"I'm the one who just saved your god damn _life_!" he shouted gesturing to the collapsing sounds of a building above them.

"I didn't ask you to save my life!" she growled. Clint angrily clenched his hands into fists as they started to shake – he was rapidly starting to lose his cool.

"You didn't _have_ to!" he growled in frustration. _Shit_, a breaking down Natasha Romanoff was one hundred times better than _this_ madness. Natalia scoffed and gripped her gun tighter.

"What, do you make a habit out of saving random assassins when you see them in need?" she shouted in disbelief. Clint narrowed his eyes and felt something inside of him finally snap.

"No! I don't fucking waste my time saving every living thing that breaths. Natalia you've known me for 9 months – you just don't remember right now," he said carefully. He saw her instantly become rigid – he wasn't getting through to her fast enough. He didn't have the _time_!

"You are full of _crap_," Natalia hissed before she lunged at him and promptly knocked him to the ground. Clint had his gun in his hand and he had the shot. He had a _clear_ shot. He could have shot her dead in the heart in the 3 seconds it took for him to make contact with the ground – but he didn't. Mostly because he couldn't – but he was going to damn well make her _think_ he was going to shoot her. But if he shot her - he had nothing left to fight for, nothing left to _live_ for.

He was no use to Natasha if he was dead.

He'd never get her back if he was dead.

He was not going to let her alter ego be the one to pull the trigger.

"God damn it Romanoff just calm the hell down and _listen_!" he shouted as they rolled behind a steaming machine and they both banged head first into a metal wall. They instantly crumpled to the floor as the vibrations canceled out all their racing thoughts for 5 seconds. They both gasped in pain but Natalia was the first to recover from the metal vibrations ringing in her ears and pounced on him.

"That's not my name! Who the hell chooses a piss poor name like _that_?" she growled as she managed to pin him to the ground for a millisecond. Clint instantly slammed his knee into her stomach to force her to let go of him and ducked seconds before one of her many hidden knives embedded itself in the ground where his eyes used to be. _Damn she was really trying to kill him._

"_You_ did," he growled harshly inches from her face before he promptly grabbed her wrists and slammed her entire body roughly into the wall behind her. If this was another time, in another place, with a different Natasha glaring back at him he would have kissed her roughly, deeply, brutally, thoroughly – in all the ways he knew she wanted. But they were about to die in an underground trafficking base and _his_ Natasha was not mentally here right now.

"You are a _shit_ liar!" Natalia shouted at him. Clint angrily shook his distracting thoughts about his partner out of his head.

_Focus_ Barton.

"Natash-Natalia I'm _really_ not trying to kill you – but you are making it rather difficult! I'm not the enemy here!" he shouted in frustration. Natalia gritted her teeth and glared daggers at him.

Like _hell_ she believed him.

"моргала выколю, падла! _(I'll poke your eyes out you fucker!)"_ she _literally_ spat in his face. Clint tensed as the wet spit slid down his cheek – well _she_ was a classy firecracker assassin.

"Man you had a _dirty_ mouth before we met Tasha," he muttered as he just held her wrists tighter – he was leaving _painful_ bruises and they both knew it. Natalia's eyes darkened.

"I thought you said you were one of the good guys huh?" she growled as she tried to wrestle herself out of his binding grasp but he didn't even give her an inch of leeway. Most people underestimated Natasha Romanoff – however he knew _exactly_ what she was capable of and he wasn't going to let her get an upper hand in this. Clint tensed as he heard feet pounding down the hall behind them. Seconds. They have seconds before they were going to be discovered and hauled out of here by their ass. She wasn't going to cooperate long enough for him to get them out of there without at least one of them ending up dead. He felt his heart sink at what he was about to do. _I'm so sorry Natasha._ _I'm so sorry I keep having to hurt you._

"Please don't hold this against me Tasha – but your alter ego is kind of trying to kill me," he said with a hint of regret lingering in his voice before he roughly slammed his partner's head into the wall and brutally knocked her out.

He _really_ hoped Natasha didn't kill him later for doing that. He was pretty sure he just gave her one hell of a concussion.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

End of I dare you?

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**LOl KIDDING! **

**But that was the end of Japan. They are out of Japan by the next chapter. **

**A/N: Natalia is a cold, cold person haha or is she? This is the start of diving into Natasha's past, part of the story. We've been skirting around her dark secrets and now it's time for Clint to start figuring things out. Who the hell is his partner **_**really**_**? She told him once that he didn't know her well enough to truly know what he was getting himself into. **

**She was right. He was barely just scratching the surface. **

**This is not like lost in the seas of forgotten memories because she doesn't technically have amnesia – she is a Russian intelligence asset that has been "reset". There are consequences with being reset however that doesn't mean it's not reversible. Oh and this will be a lot more realistic and shorter arc. **

**Natalia and Natasha are two sides of the same coin – **_**literally**_**. **

**Review and let me know if you saw this coming! I left hints! **


	72. Chapter 72

**I dare you **

**A/N: Frankly this chapter is about…how many times is Natalia going to attempt to kill Clint Barton? LOL. Nah it's a bit more serious than that. Though damn does she try hard!**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 72**

The first thing Natalia was aware of when she felt herself rush back into consciousness was that she had a killer headache and she was thoroughly concussed.

Ублюдок! (_Bastard!)_

The second thing she knew was that judging by the rhythmic swaying of the bed she was lying on, the distinct sound of waves crashing against something just outside of the room she was in, accompanied by the sharp smell of saltwater - she was trapped in a cabin on a boat.

The third and most annoying fact was that both her wrists were tightly cuffed to the bedpost.

Natalia felt the anger start to boil. She was going to make sure he screamed before she killed him. She was going to make him beg for death. She was going to-

"I know you're awake - I can hear your murderous thoughts from 5 feet away," a deep _almost_ familiar voice said cautiously from 5 feet to her right. She didn't open her eyes and didn't acknowledge that he had caught her bluff. Without even one glance she knew he was perched on a window ledge on the right side of the cabin, directly across from where she lay. He was hyperaware and diligently had his eyes trained on her. And he was armed. Smart assassin.

"Just…calm down for a damn second and let's talk okay?" he continued while letting his tiredness seep into his tone – bad move. She would use that against him.

Natalia snorted and her green eyes flashed open and locked with his – he felt something twist painfully in his chest. It wasn't Natasha's eyes. Natasha always looked at him with a mixture of annoyance and fondness. Natalia just looked like she was meticulously planning his murder – she probably was.

"Talk? Are you stupid? Russians don't talk – we shoot you dead in the chest - no foreplay, no _nothing_. And even if we did, I'm not about to hold a pleasant conversation with a stuck up arrogant American government agent who has me handcuffed to a god damn _bed_," she spat giving him an extremely _nasty_ look. Clint sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He already felt like a sick bastard for cuffing an unconscious woman to a cheap cabin bed – but what was he supposed to do? She was unstable and frankly he didn't trust her not to try and shoot him in the next 5 minutes it would take him to talk her out of wanting him dead. He felt his heart grow heavy. He missed her already. _Tasha where are you?_

"Sure you do – you're a very talkative bunch – if you say the right things that is," he said feigning calm indifference. He didn't know how to deal with this Natasha. Even the Black Widow he met 9 months ago wasn't this explosive. She had been calm and collected the whole time – even when he had her staring down the end of his arrow. _She_ was also a lot harder to take down then how he got the best of this Natasha 6 hours ago.

He didn't know what that meant exactly. Frankly he was flying by the seat of his pants and he had no idea what he was doing anymore. He looked back up and found Natalia staring at him with a peculiar look on her face – it was the same look Natasha used to give him early on in their partnership – like she didn't know what the hell to make of him. She told him later she thought he was a fool – but an interesting fool. That was the closest compliment he ever got from her.

"You are the cocky type," she said carefully. He snorted softly. She's said that before. She's different as Natalia - but he could still see parts of Natasha in there. His partner was still in there somewhere.

"Comes with the job I suppose," he muttered while staring at his gun with utter hatred. He felt sick to his stomach that he had to be armed just to make sure the girl he would die for wouldn't kill him on purpose. He still felt her eyes on him but waited for her to break the silence.

"So you caught me – now what?" she asked staring at him intensely enough that she might have just been staring into his soul. He doubted she saw anything in the current state she was in. He didn't have much of a soul left either. He decided to answer her question with a question.

"How old are you? In your head?" he asked cautiously without looking up. Natalia took a sharp look in the mirror on the wall beside the bed she was cuffed to. He had to give her the credit of having nerves of steel because she only froze for a second before the steeled look was back.

"I'm almost 22 judging by my appearance - but last time I checked I was 20," she said steadily looking back at him. Clint froze.

"_Holy shit_," he swore under his breath and turned away from her. Why was his life so messed up? Why did he finally find what he has been looking for all his life only to have it ripped away from him in the cruelest ways? Tasha wasn't even dead - she was just missing. Mentally missing. He had to find her. He had to find a way to get her back. His eyes darkened.

He had to find a man named James Barnes.

But before that they needed to get the chips they recovered back to SHIELD otherwise Coulson would be sending an emergency extraction team after them. Frankly if he didn't call Coulson by tomorrow SHIELD would think they were MIA again - and that went so well the last time they tried that.

He would have still been lost in his own thoughts if Natalia's expression didn't suddenly tense up in a way which he recognized instantly from past experience meant she was holding back a painful wince out of sheer pride. She had been injured in their fight -but that was well over 6 hours ago. Clint froze when they both saw the red stain start seeping through her shirt across her stomach.

"You're still injured? You got those cuts nearly 6 hours ago – they should have stopped bleeding and almost healed by now," Clint said in serious alarm. Natalia glanced away from her wound and just stared at him.

It was official - she got caught by an idiot.

"Are you really as stupid as the American stereotypes say? Wounds this deep need stitches and _days_ to heal!" she exclaimed angrily. And he calls himself a competent assassin! Ba! How the hell did he catch her? She tensed – right he slammed her skull into a wall. Clint slowly shook his head.

"Yours don't. Your wounds heal in under 3 hours…" Clint said carefully still staring at her bleeding injuries. He was missing something. Something vital. _Enhancers_. What happened to her enhancers? Natalia gritted her teeth while seething with anger.

"I'm not some kind of science project! Normal people don't heal that fast you _idiot_," Natalia said darkly. Clint's heart froze. _No. No I think you probably were... _Hepromptly slammed his eyes shut as Natasha's words from several weeks ago rang in his ears.

_"If I find out who I really was. If I ever found a family that lost a 4 year old in the middle of spontaneous fire that destroyed everything in its path. If I find a name or an address or a faded tombstone that is long forgotten - does that mean I'm not real?" _her quiet resigned voice echoed in his mind from a lifetime ago. He finally understood why she said that.

This was a seriously fucked up reason for why she didn't think she was real.

Clint sighed defeatedly as he dropped his head into his hands and let his guard down for just a second – but one second was all Natalia needed to swiftly unlock her restraints and already have a sharp pen whipping through the air aimed at his head.

He caught the deadly projectile right out of the air seconds before it stabbed him in the head without even looking up. He simply sighed as his shoulders slummed. She was making him exhausted.

"You do know that the only reason you're not buried under a pile of rubble 200 feet underground is because of me right?" he muttered tossing the pen over his shoulder to lay in some forgotten corner. Natalia glared at him and was already scanning the room for anything she could turn into a weapon and escape. There were no weapons in the room except for the gun in his hand. Natasha gritted her teeth in annoyance. He was a thorough assassin - but she was _smarter_. If he was smart she would have been dead already – mistake number one.

"I don't care. Why are we on a boat?" she demanded picking up a random book and whipping it at his head. _Oh shit._

"At least give me a second to explain before you start another fight!" he exclaimed as he ducked and avoided the heavy projectile.

"пошел на хуй!" she growled as she rapidly identified all the different ways to disarm him. Clint just stared at her.

"Oh that was just _lovely_!" he said sarcastically. Natalia's eyes flashed in rage.

"Eat dog _shit_!" she spat as she hurled her handcuffs at him at an insane speed when she had nothing else left to throw. Clint barely dodged the last metal projectile and scowled at her. She was so rude!

"Ladies first oh Russian assassin royalty," he shot back as he bowed mockingly. Natalia clenched her hands into fists and inhaled a sharp breath to calm herself down. She was not going to let a damn American rile her up more than he around has.

"You're an idiot. You should know better than to try and use something as brutally easy to get out of as handcuffs to restrain any assassin that is worth their balls," she said as they stared each other down. Clint shook his head without breaking eye contact – breaking eye contact meant he was dead.

"It was a courtesy – for her. I know you can get out of handcuffs easily. However you chose to pretend for at least 5 minutes. That says a lot in our world – it says you don't _actually_ want to kill me Natalia," he said steadily. Natalia narrowed her eyes. She was done with games. She still had no idea what he was talking about and she wanted answers _now_.

"You're saying I have amnesia?" she asked carefully. That was utter bullshit. Clint inhaled a sharp breath.

"Yes and no. I'm saying I don't exactly know what's going on except for the fact that you clearly don't know who I am and you've had a _radical_ personality change in the last 6 hours," he said steadily. She narrowed her eyes. Clint felt his hope fade - she didn't believe him. He would have to do better job of convincing her – but he really didn't have any information at the moment. He needed her to trust him – how the hell was he going to do that when it took _months_ for Natasha to trust him the first time around?

"I _don't_ know you and I've never seen your face in my life - who are you?" she asked coldly. Clint took a sharp breath. Nothing but the truth. That was what he always wanted from her – but she clearly didn't give him that.

"I'm your partner," he said steadily keeping his gun trained to her forehead because he still didn't trust her yet. Natalia's eyes instantly hardened.

"фигня! (_Bullshit!)" _she spat before she promptly shot forward and flipped the gun in his hand to point it at himself and she forced him to pull in the trigger. Clint didn't even attempt to stop her.

_BANG! _

Natalia froze when he didn't drop to the ground dead with a bullet in his forehead like she had expected. Clint continued to stare at her steadily – very much still alive. He let go of the gun and allowed it to clatter to the floor between them. The echoing sound as it hit the ground was the only noise that broke through the tense silence between the two assassins locked in the most intense staring match of the century.

"It's a blank," he said calmly answering her unasked question. Natalia continued to stare at the blue eyed American and felt herself rapidly revaluating her mental profile sketch of him.

She added _mentally insane_ to her list of marks against him.

She took a deep breath – and promptly _decked_ him in the face. Clint swore as he roughly hit the wall and slide down to the ground holding his broken bloody nose – that was the _fourth_ time he got punched in the face on this crap mission – and none of them were by the _real_ enemy!

"God _damn it_ when are you going to stop trying to kill me Tasha?" he shouted angrily rolling himself away from the wall as she came at him again.

"Stop calling me those _names_!" she shouted back in equal amounts of anger as she swung her foot around and slammed her boot into the wall where his head just was moments ago. Clint huffed.

"If you would just please _stop_ with the homicidal tendencies I could tell you some shit you might like to know!" he said heatedly as he block one of her vicious punches and redirected it away from his face. He knew all her moves already – or at least he thought he did. She glared at him fiercely before she promptly kneed him in the groin and watched him wince in pain. Classics always work when you're opponent is not expecting the dirty cheap blow. She grabbed him by the chin and stared him dead in the eye.

"There is nothing I want except to get away from _you_!" she growled inches from his face before she spun around ready to fly out of there like a bat out of hell. Clint closed his eyes as her red head whipped behind her and brushed over his face – _she still smelled like Tasha. _He took a deep breath of her familiar calming scent and when he opened his eyes she was gone.

He sighed.

"You're not going anywhere Tasha," Clint said apologetically as he leaned his head against the cool metal wall of the below deck cabin and wondered if he should go up there after her. She wasn't going to like what she found.

He knew his partner very well – or at least he thought he did.

"_Barton you __think__ you know what you want but you don't. You just met me. You haven't even been partners with me for a year yet. You don't even know half the things about me or my past. There is no __way__ you know what you are getting into. Forget the hundreds of people I murdered in cold blood. Forget the horrors and atrocities I committed all over the world. Forget the families I destroyed and lives I ruined. You don't know enough about me to understand why we can't be what you want us to be Barton. I'm your partner yes. I'll even be your friend if you want me to be. But until you realize who exactly I actually am there is no way you know what you want!"_

Did he know who Natasha Romanoff really was?

.

.

.

.

Natalia didn't even spare a second to look over her shoulder and see if the American agent was following her up the stairs – if she could get off this boat and into a crowd she could lose him in less then 10 minutes. Everything she was planning instantly came to a screeching halt when she saw exactly where they were. Natalia froze when she climbed up onto the deck and finally glanced out into the water – because all she saw was water.

For miles.

In every direction.

She thinks she was either going to lose her mind by the end of this or shoot herself. She nearly stumbled in shock.

"There's no land. How far off shore are we?" she asked herself as she rapidly scanned all the horizons. _Nothing but water. Nothing but water. Nothing but water. _She was so stunned she didn't even react when she felt _his_ presence on the deck behind her. Clint took a deep breath – this wasn't going to be pretty.

"About 100 miles off the coast of China," he managed to get out while still breathing heavily from their little scuffle. He watched her completely shut down and he knew her mind had _finally_ stopped rapidly formulating plans to escape like it had been doing for the past 20 minutes. Clint sighed – he knew an impending _Tasha explosion_ when he saw one. Natalia wasn't going to be much different in that department. He stared up at the mockingly clear blue sky and counted backwards in his head.

3

2

1

"WE'RE IN THE DEAD CENTER OF THE PACIFIC OCEAN?" she shouted at him in unrestrained fury – her red hair was practically crackling like it was on _fire_. Usually he found a Natasha in rage mode _maddeningly_ sexy. Right now he just winced as he rubbed his poor ears. Damn she was loud.

"Yeah about that-" he started to try and explain but she was already whipping around and shoving him up against the wall of the navigator room with hot rage flashing across her green eyes. He couldn't stop himself from inhaling a sharp breath as memories of Natasha shoving him up against their apartment wall, shoving him against his own car, shoving him down on their bed in the hotel after her breakdown – all of those times ended with her showing him _exactly_ what he made her feel.

_But she wasn't Natasha. But she wasn't Natasha. But she wasn't Natasha. _He had to keep reminding himself – it was frighteningly difficult because there were too many similarities that still held true between Natalia and Natasha. Natalia roughly grabbed him by his collar and growled in his face.

"Stop screwing with my head! What do you want from me? Do you want information? Were you sent to kill me? Why did you bring me here? Why are you still trying to lie to me?" she shouted as she roughly shook him back and forth by the collar of his shirt – he could tell she wasn't even trying to kill him anymore. He could feel the slight trace of desperation in her words and his eyes softened – she was scared. She would never admit it but he could tell. She knew he didn't want information otherwise he would have locked her up better. She knew he wasn't sent to kill her because he saved her life.

She just couldn't accept the truth to be real.

"I'm not lying Natalia," he said softly while letting her manhandle him. He held himself back from pulling her into a hug like his instincts begged him to do. It took _months_ for Natasha to accept any physical affectionate contact with him. Natalia would just react violently and hurt them both. He felt his shoulders slum - he was tired of hurting her. It was killing him. He watched her angrily shake her head and continue to shake him.

"You _are_ lying! There is no way you've been spouting anything but bullshit over the last 20 minutes!" she said determinedly – almost like she was trying to prove to _herself_ that he was lying. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"Why? Because you don't believe people want to help each other without having ulterior motives?" he asked carefully. Natalia tensed but remained adamantly silent. That is _exactly_ what she thought. Clint stared at her dead in the eye.

"I can give you an ulterior motive if it will make you feel better Natalia – I want my partner back. And I will do _anything_ to accomplish that goal," he said steadily as he reached up and firmly grasped her by the forearms and pushed her away from cornering him. He saw something flicker in her eyes and instantly knew she wasn't done trying to kill him.

"Oh _hell_ no!" he growled as he promptly went to restrain her arms before she tried to take another shot at ending his life. She threw herself at him and when his foot got caught in a rope on the deck he knew they were both screwed. Her momentum and his loss of balance accidently shoved them both over the edge of the boat and head first into the ocean.

Well damn.

"OH FOR THE LOVE OF _GOD_!" Clint shouted right before they both hit the water with a loud _splash_! Clint lost his vision for 5 seconds as he go pulled under the strong ocean current waves but quickly managed to pull himself to the surface before he ran out of air. He gasped as he inhaled a deep breath of _oxygen_ when he resurfaced and quickly tried to locate his partner at the same time.

"Natas-Natalia where are you? Are you okay?" Clint called out frantically looking around.

Where is she?

"I hate water," a voice muttered from behind him. Clint sighed in relief when he recognized her voice – she was alight. He spun around and found a soaking wet redheaded Russian assassin glaring at him as they both floated a few meters away from their boat. He really didn't know what to say at this point – so he went for small talk.

"Hi," he said warily. Natalia _stared_ at him.

"Why don't you just _die_ already!" she growled in frustration. Clint gave her a dry look. Is that her assassin pride being damaged right there?

"I am a very difficult person to kill," he said flatly. He should probably feel flattered that he was making Natasha's younger self work up a sweat trying to eliminate him – but really all he wanted was to end this nightmare so that he could wake up and have his partner back.

"Are you finally done fighting me yet Natalia? Even if you want to leave you need me to get back on land," he said calmly. Natalia eyed him suspiciously.

"I could just kill you and steer myself back," she said carefully. Clint gave her a long look.

Man, she was even _worse_ than Natasha in the stubborn department.

"First of all, you're doing a _fantastic_ job on your first goal – how is that going for you so far huh? Second of all, there is a passcode on the control system – if you kill me you're stuck out here unless some random boat comes this way _and_ you manage to their attention. How confident are you on either of those two counts?" he asked seriously. Natalia opened her mouth – but then she thought better of it. They both knew he was right. She simply opted to scowl at him before she spun around in the water and started swimming back towards their boat.

Clint gaped – he honestly gaped.

"That's _it_? All I get is silence after all this shit you just threw at me? Have you got nothing more to say you crazy woman?" he asked in disbelief as he rapidly swam after her. She ignored him as she climbed up the side ladder and dragged her soaked body back onto the boat. He quickly followed up after her and they both stood dripping wet on either side of the deck.

"Why are we out here?" she asked finally glancing away from him. Clint sighed in relief. Finally, _finally_ listening to him.

Hallelujah it just took half an hour of avoiding certain death before the Russian would even hear him out. If he wasn't one of SHIELD's best agents she would have definitely killed him and escaped by now.

"We're in the ocean because our covers got blown and we needed to get out of the country without the authorities on our ass. Sylvia Cross and William Brandt are currently being branded as international terrorists in Japan thanks to the higher officials in a smuggling operation disguised as a successful software company called Fujitsu," he said plainly. Coulson was going to have an ulcer – they had never blown a cover this badly before. Natalia tensed.

"Do they have our faces on paper?" she asked tensely. They were illegal assassins – if their picture got out in the public they were _both_ going to be wanted fugitives regardless of what side they were on in their own world of good vs. evil. Clint smiled.

"That's the great thing about working for a shadowy organization like SHIELD that doesn't operate within the constraints of the law – they can make information disappear faster than CIA or FBI ever could," he said calmly. Natalia's face darkened.

"I don't work for any of those, so sorry if I can't relate," she muttered. Clint's eyes softened.

"You do now though Tasha," he said softly touching her face before he could stop himself. Natalia was instantly on the other side of the boat within milliseconds. Clint mentally slapped himself for being so stupid.

"Why are you touching me like that?" she asked in serious alarm as she plastered herself against the farthest wall away from him. Clint tried to keep himself from wincing.

"I'm sorry," he muttered rubbing his hands over his face. This was so messing with his head. Natalia watched the conflict war on his face and calmed down slightly. She was overreacting anyway.

"No, it's okay…" she said carefully. Clint shook his head. He took a deep breath and glanced up at her with apologies shinning in his eyes. The true depth of his regret caught her off guard. And this was the man she couldn't manage to kill for the past half hour? What sick joke was this? How was he so good and yet he was looking at her like _that_?

"I'm sorry. I promise I won't do it again. We need to bandage your wounds – they're going to get infected," he said quietly gesturing towards her still bleeding injuries. He's never had to worry about infection for her before. It was always him they were careful for stuff like that. He hadn't realized how much of their partnership was affected by her enhancers until now. He paused.

Natalia doesn't have any enhancers - that much was obvious. The hard part was trying to figure out _why_. He watched her instantly shut down at his words.

"I'll do it myself," she growled before she stalked into the cabin and slammed the door shut behind her and he instantly heard the lock click into place.

Clint sighed and leaned his forehead against the cool metal side of the boat. He forgot he had to earn the right to tend to her wounds the first time around after Colombia.

"I miss you Tasha – but I'm going to get you _back_," he whispered determinedly.

.

.

.

.

20 minutes of staring up at the sky later Clint felt the cabin door swing open and promptly fell backwards and knocked into the legs of a stony faced Russian. He stared up at her half-dressed form and she simply burned a hole into his head with that permanent scowl on her face.

"I need your help," she muttered through her teeth. Clint laughed despite the crap situation. Flashes of Natasha were still there.

"Took you 40 minutes less than the first time she admitted that," he said fondly as he got up and followed her down to the cabin.

"I don't feel like dropping unholy amounts of alcohol on my back if I can help it!" she said trying but failing to defend her dignity. Clint snorted.

.

.

.

10 minutes later Natalia was perched on edge of the bed while the agent who called himself Barton gently and skillfully cleaned the blood away from her face. They've been sitting in silence for the past 5 minutes.

Natalia stared at him. Clint ignored her. She continued to stare at him – he continued to ignore her. She twitched.

He instantly caught the object thrown at his head – he glanced down – it was a grape.

"Stop trying to kill me Natalia – it's a fruitless goal," he said flicking the fruit back at her and catching her by surprise as it smacked her right in the nose. Natalia scowled at him. He was so strange!

"What's your real name?" she asked as he worked diligently on dressing her wounds with the few medical supplies they had.

"I already told you. Clint Barton _is_ my real name, you really are my partner and we have a problem with your memory and your skills that we are going to fix all that right after I finish with you here and we catch a flight out of China," he said calmly. He suddenly paused and looked up. She started to get a little unnerved when he didn't look away from her eyes.

"What are you doing?" Natalia asked leaning away from him. Clint furrowed his brow in concentration.

"Trying to see if my partner is in there so I can smack you in the face and maybe she'd feel it too," he said simply. Natalia scoffed.

"You're a true nutcase," Natalia said warily. Clint scoffed.

"She calls me weird," he muttered childishly. Natalia snorted.

"I'm pretty sure she was just being polite," Natalia said frankly.

"You're rude," he muttered as he continued bandaging her.

"You're a baby," she said simply.

"You're an annoying version of her," he grumbled.

"You're an annoying man. _Period_," she shot back. Clint opened his mouth to shoot off a biting retort but quickly stopped himself. Usually Natasha was the one who was supposed to get them to stay on topic.

"Okay. _Stop_. Let's rewind and go back to what were originally discussing. What do you know about yourself?" he asked seriously. Natalia instantly sobered.

"I – I know my name is Natalia…At least I thought I did until you keep calling me Natasha," she said slowly. Clint gave her an apologetic look.

"You changed your name 9 months ago," he said as explanation. She gave him a suspicious look but frankly at this point his word was all she had.

"Okay… I know I'm an assassin – that much is obvious from my skills. I'm Russian…I'm apparently 2 years older now?" she said trying to rack her brain around and figure out what she is missing. Clint watched her struggle to come up with solid facts – she was missing a lot. Like…everything about _them_…but more than that.

"Do you know who you used to work for?" he asked carefully. Natalia paused as she furrowed her brow in concentration.

"Yes…I swear I did…I was on an assignment…in Russia…but we're in Japan…and now I can't…remember?" she said slowly. Clint thought back to a few hours ago too. She definitely looked like she _thought _she knew who she was back in the trafficking base. They both glanced up and locked eyes together.

"Concussion," they said at the same time. Clint groaned. God he caused her real amnesia on top of whatever reset Natasha said was going to happen.

"Oh we're in trouble now," he muttered. Natalia glared at him.

"Thanks for that one genius," she said sarcastically. Clint glared back.

"Do you understand the kind of situation we were in? I was trying to get us out of there alive while you were trying to _kill_ me!" he exclaimed. She scoffed.

"You're _weak_. You had to give me a concussion to knock me out?" she asked in disbelief. Clint was about to shut her up with an angry retort when he froze – it was too much like arguing with Natasha. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Too many problems at once. Need to take this one step at a time.

"Do you believe me Natalia?" he asked slowly opening his eyes and staring at her. Natalia stared back evenly.

"No – there's no logic," she said plainly. He face fell. Of course she wouldn't.

"Then why are you sitting here talking to me?" he asked quietly putting the alcohol swab on the floor beside him and stared at his hands. He heard her take a deep breath.

"Because…Because I _want_ to believe you," she said steadily. His eyes flashed up to lock with hers again. If she didn't believe his words because they don't sound logical what could possibly make her _want_ to believe them?

"Why?" he asked furrowing his brow.

"Because you have had 27 distinct moments when you could have killed me since the moment I woke up in that burning hell hole and you didn't take a single one," she said staring right back.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Finally stopped trying to kill him. I'm NOT dragging this out. We're meeting James next chapter. I just needed Natalia to at least momentarily trust Clint enough to go hunt down Barnes with him. That is going to be one big clash – but James is going to be able to clear everything up about why she reset early. If you guys didn't pick it up – her mental reset is linked to her enhancers. Think about it. What age do you think she started getting the most current type of enhancers? **

**By the way – did anyone count how many times Natalia tried to kill him? I lost count. Damn this woman is singled minded. **

**Also…Coulson…is going to be pissed. **


	73. Chapter 73

**I dare you **

**A/N: Clint and Natalia making their way half way across the world – and their own little relationship explodes haha. **

**Chapter 73 **

**Hong Kong, September 2003 (If you forget the timeline)**

Natalia vigilantly watched the masses of people move through the busy Hong Kong streets from a tiny cramped hotel balcony. She sat on the ledge and let her legs dangle over the edge as she mentally catalogued everything that was happening around her.

She was currently sitting out here because agent Barton was busy having one of those not-so-secret conversations with his handler. She was rather impressed with whoever was on the other end because he was taking everything Barton was saying rather well - until she realized he was just waiting for Barton to give him the whole story.

"...So we have the chips but we're going to take a detour home to fix this mess with Agent Romanoff alright?" Clint said finished with a hint of apprehension in his tone.

Dead silence.

Natalia started counting back from 5 in her head.

5

4

"Coulson? You're still there right? Don't freak out okay...?" she listened to Barton say nervously. Natalia felt a vindictive smile play at her lips.

3

2

1

"DON'T FREAK OUT? YOU ARE TELLING ME THE BLACK WIDOW DOESN'T REMEMBER THE LAST TWO YEARS OF HER LIFE AND HAS BEEN CONSTANTLY TRYING TO KILL OUR BEST AGENT FOR THE LAST 24 HOURS AND YOU SAY DON'T FREAK OUT?" a distinctly curt voice shouted through the phone loud and clear.

Natalia suddenly lost the sadistic smile and made an _oh_ face as she watch a group of little street boys roll down the street engaged in a tussle over a chocolate bar. She blinked.

"So you're their best eh?" she said quietly leaning her forehead against the railing in front of her.

That explains the difficulty level of eliminating him. She could probably pretend to trust him and lull him into a sense of security before she killed him in his sleep or something - he had to sleep eventually right? But something inside of her twisted painfully when she thought about ending agent Barton's life. She swallowed painfully as her throat suddenly went dry and she gripped the railing of the balcony tightly in her fists.

She didn't really want to kill him anymore.

He was different.

He was _interesting_.

She hasn't met a man that was even half as fascinating as this one.

"JAMES BARNES IS A WORLD WAR 2 HONOURED _WHAT_?" Clint suddenly shouted losing his cool instantly. Natalia paused.

Huh. Now he was screaming too. Do men in this SHIELD organization always yell at each other? She thought they usually prided themselves in their ability to work in calm facade of professionalism?

"You're joking. Tell me you're joking Coulson. That is the name she gave me I swear. Why the hell would she tell me to hunt down a man who has been dead for 60 years?" Clint said darkly. Natalia winced and rubbed her forehead as an electric current felt like it just burned through her brain.

"Barnes. I know Barnes," she muttered as she saw flashes of a dark haired man with a metal synthetic arm appear in her mind.

"..._I'm_ not the one who said she was a liability Barton! That is what the council said! And frankly if anyone else at SHIELD finds out about this or if she goes back to the Russians Barton it's _your_ neck on the execution table! _You_ brought her in! She's _your_ partner! _Your_ responsibility! How could you not know this about her? Why did you never tell SHIELD about her enhancers? How could you be so _reckless_?" Coulson demanded. This was all completely brand new to him and he couldn't deal with it from half way across the world. Clint clenched his jaw in anger – he didn't even know half as much about her enhancers as he was learning _today_.

"I didn't even _know_ that her enhancers weren't permanent! We never had this problem before! How was I supposed to know that when her enhancers clock out she turns into a completely different _person_?" Clint asked angrily.

Natalia took a deep breath and opened her eyes. She had enough. She hated when people talked about her like she wasn't even there.

"Barton I can get you two a ride out of China – but you need to fix this mess fast – _or I will come fix it for you,_" Coulson said warningly. Clint tensed. He was about to tell Coulson to shut the hell up and let him deal with his own partner when he suddenly found himself being attacked from behind and knocked off balance.

"Oh shit _no_! Natalia not right now!" Clint exclaimed as he fell back onto the uncomfortable bed and she instantly locked his neck into her infamous thigh chock. Clint froze as he felt her tighten her grip around his throat – of all the ways he thought he would die – between his partner's legs was the _last_ one.

Oh dear god.

Oh dear god.

She leaned forward hovering over his parted lips and stared at him with darkened green eyes. He felt his breath catch in his throat. She gave him a seductive smile and right before she closed the distance between them she yanked the phone right out of his hand and placed it next to her ear. Natalia's face with blank as she completely ignored the flaming red faced hyperventilating agent after that. Clint only had one thought running through his head.

She was _evil_.

An evil, _evil_ version of Natasha.

"Hello? Agent Coulson? Is that your name? This is Natalia - AKA the Black Widow AKA the Russian assassin you are seconds away from pissing off," she said sweetly watching the sputtering American agent who was still staring up at her in shock. She petted him on the head mockingly. "I'm rather insulted you think so poorly of me after working for you for so long - what has it been? 9 months? Tsk, tsk. Don't you have any faith in me at all?" she asked with a fake sigh. Coulson narrowed his eyes at the other end of the line. Natasha was _never_ this disrespectful. Barton seriously needed to get a handle on this – before SHIELD got involved.

Unless…

"Agent Romanoff if you are just messing with him..." Coulson said warningly. Natalia's eyes darkened. Wrong words – she wasn't Romanoff.

"I make no promises about anyone else, but I'm not going to kill him - not yet," she said seriously before she slammed the cellphone shut and hung up. Clint groaned at what she just did.

She just pissed off Coulson. Oh my god. They were screwed when they got back to SHIELD. Utterly _screwed_.

"He's going to _kill_ me," he whispered in horror. _With paperwork_! Natalia shot him a dirty look. He was more scared of this stuffy suit man then her? She had him in a thigh chock! A thigh chock! Why wasn't he scared of _her_ damn it?

"No - honey _I'm_ going to kill you - no one else," she said patting him on the cheek and griping his hair almost possessively. Clint stared at her - was she... jealous?

The next thing Natalia knew she was being flipped onto her stomach and had her face shoved down into one of the rough pillows scattered over the messy hotel bed. She instantly felt her wrists get trapped in an iron hold above her head and gritted her teeth. Damn he was good.

"You should know that I've been sparring with you for 9 months so I know all your moves and more importantly - how to get out of them," he whispered in her ear. Natalia froze as his warm breath brushed against her ear and made her nearly squirm.

"That is only a minor disadvantage," she muttered and she tried to wiggle her way out from underneath him. Clint froze as he realized what she was trying to do.

"You're both a damn annoying _tease!_" he groaned. Natalia snorted.

"You chose her buddy not me," Natalia said with a shrug. Not her fault he didn't know how to take the easy road and not tangle with dangerous women like her. Clint sighed and pulled away letting her arms drop onto the bed. Natasha flipped herself onto her back and rubbed her wrists while throwing varying degrees of suspicious looks his way. He ignored _all_ of it.

"We need to be fast. Our jet is going to be ready in 20 minutes," he muttered running a hand through his hair as he tried to calm down from whatever just exploded between Natalia and him. He didn't even know where _that_ came from. He took a sharp breath - does this count as cheating?

Oh lord his life was truly messed up if he had to question if it was possible to cheat on a girl with _herself_.

"Where are we going?" Natalia asked as she got up and stretched out her tense muscles. Clint froze - he was almost 90% sure she was slowing down that innocent stretching into something not so innocent and letting him get a good look down her shirt - especially with the devilish glint in her eyes.

Damn this woman.

Damn she's never tried to seduce him before.

"Russia," he said hoarsely trying to block tantalizing images of what his imagination wanted him to do to turn that smirk into an- HALT - _stop right there! _his logical side screamed. Clint rubbed his forehead in frustration.

_Natalia. Natasha. Natalia. Natasha. Natalia. Natasha. _

It was screwing with his head. _She_ was screwing with his head.

"To find Barnes right?" she said pretending to be oblivious to his mental conflict. Clint's expression darkened as his brain instant focused on the problem at hand. He hated dead trails.

"Barnes is long dead Natalia. I was thinking more along the lines of infiltrating the Red Room and figuring out how to reverse your condition but stealing some information," he said dead seriously. _Red Room._ Natasha winced as another bolt of electricity felt like it was burning a hole into her head.

"Are you okay?" Clint asked in concern when he saw her reaction. Natalia open he eyes and shook her head.

"I remember now," she said pinching the bridge of her nose. Clint froze.

"Wait you remember everything? SHIELD? Our partnership? Us?" He asked trying to keep the hope out of his voice. She shook her head again and his heart deflated.

"No, I remember everything your _concussion_ made fuzzy. I know who James Barnes is and he's not dead," Natalia said darkly. Clint stared at her.

"Who is he then?" Clint asked slowly.

"He was my combat trainer..." she said cautiously watching the expressions filter across Barton's face. He paused when he heard something off in her tone.

"What else Natalia?" he pressed. Natalia stared a hole into the ground – because she knew he wasn't about to take what she was about to say very well.

"…and my partner," she added reluctantly. Clint froze and felt the air get sucked right out of his lungs as he felt the phone slip out of his hand and clatter to the floor. Memory after memory washed over him and he felt like he was drowning.

"_It shouldn't __happen__ Barton! This shouldn't be happening!"_

_"Who said? When did you start caring about what other people thought?"_

_"When hundreds of partners prove they end up __dead__ when they're compromised!"_

He was her past partner.

_"What's his name Tasha? Which one of your past partners died?"_

_"No one died Barton."_

_"Was he Russian?"_

"_Was he older then you?"_

"_Was he part of the Red Room with you?"_

_"Did you love him?"_

Clint collapsed down on the bed as the memories continued to crash into one another in his mind.

"_But you still haven't told me what his name is Tasha."_

_"I'm not going to tell you Barton – because he's not dead."_

She never told him. She never told him anything. Natasha Romanoff has so many secrets Clint doesn't even know what to believe anymore. He was lost in his internal storm of emotions until one thought cut through all the rest of his emotions.

"So _he's_ the bastard that cut you up weeks ago," he said darkly. Natalia tensed.

"_What_?" Natalia said sharply. Clint took a deep breath.

"Natalia…when you said you were partners with him…what type of partners were you?" Clint asked deceptively calm. Inside he was brewing with jealousy – but Natalia wasn't the one he wanted to pick a fight with – he was going to leave that dispute to settle with Natasha.

Oh all the things he wanted to shout about at that stupid woman that drove him up a wall– he had a _list_.

"What type of partners are _we_?" she shot back. Clint sighed and rubbed his hands over his face – he wondered that himself sometimes.

"It always depends on who's asking Natalia," he said warily. Natalia narrowed her eyes.

"Tell me the truth Barton. How the hell did we become partners?" she asked carefully. Clint glanced up at her and stared at her dead in the eye.

"The truth is that I was sent to kill you 9 months ago Natalia. I offered you an out instead. You took it. You joined SHIELD. Now _we're_ partners," he said evenly. Natalia shook her head.

"Liar. You don't look at me like we're just partners," she said daring him to deny her hidden accusation. Clint took a deep breath.

"And then there's that," he said quietly. He didn't deny it. It would be impossible to lie to the person of Natalia's skill. She stared at him for a long moment.

"Why didn't I leave? When you started being compromised?" she asked carefully. Clint scoffed – it wasn't _just_ him.

"Because I convinced you to be compromised _with_ me," he said simply. That felt like _ages_ ago. Natalia suddenly tensed.

"You're lying. I wouldn't do that," she said cautiously taking a step away from him. Clint shook his head.

"Trust me – you did," he said staring intensely at the wall. Natalia narrowed eyes. He was an idiot.

"Whatever we were – it wasn't real. I don't do relationships agent Barton. I just use people. I was just using you," she said warningly. She can't believe he was such idiot for trusting her. Clint shook his head and clenched his hands into fists.

"No, I really don't think you were," he muttered. An odd look crossed Natalia's face.

"Natasha must be a completely different person then," she muttered looking away.

"Maybe she is," he said quietly.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

30 minutes later Clint was silently leading Natalia down a familiar street as he was reading the Chinese signs, looking for the right entrance – now _Mandarin_ he was fluent in. It was one of the most useful languages in the world.

"We're heading into the SHIELD base in Hong Kong – Coulson got us a jet out of there. The only problem is…is that we need to walk in there as Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff…," he said as he continued to take them down a winding path through several side streets.

"…And you're worried I can't act like her because I'm compromised," she said flatly. Clint winced.

"Only until we fix it," he said quickly. Natalia instantly went rigid.

"I'm not broken agent Barton..." she said carefully. Clint winced again. Damn it was hard to talk to this Natasha.

"I know you're not broken – but can we both agree that you're not exactly fully here right now?" he asked carefully tapping her on the forehead. Natalia frowned.

"Maybe," she muttered. Clint paused as he finally came to a stop in front of an oddly polished building – in much better shape than the rest of the buildings on this street.

"Nat - promise me you won't run away if I leave you alone for 2 minutes..." he said gripping her shoulders and being careful not to let any of his feelings show. She didn't need that right now. Scaring her was the last thing he wanted to do right now.

"Nat is new..." she said with a wary look. Clint blinked. He didn't even realize he had shortened her name.

"Natalia is too much of a mouthful...and you're not exactly Tasha," he said with an apologetic look. Natalia shrugged.

"Fair enough," she said calmly. Clint nodded and pushed open the door and walked into the building.

"Just…don't kill anyone and let me do the talking okay?" Clint said under his breath as they maneuvered their way through the base and Clint nodded at other agents that seemed to recognize him. They glanced at a base map and made their way down to the hangar that opened up in a field a few hundred yards into the small forest behind the base.

"Agent Barton! Coulson called saying you needed a ride out of here?" a random lean Chinese agent called out from down at the end of the hangar. Clint glanced over his shoulder and located him instantly and gave a little wave.

"Yeah, I need one with enough gas to make a trip to Russia," Clint said purposely remaining vague. The kid was too busy practically jumping up and down to even notice.

"Need a pilot?" the eager agent asked excitedly. Clint gave him an apologetic smile – but he really wanted to do some flying himself after the crap mission they just had. Also…he wasn't quite ready to sick Natalia on any poor agent for longer than a few minutes. She was doing a rather good job of not causing a scene right now and he would like to keep the impression that they were calm, collected, _sane_ agents – even if that was the _biggest_ lie he ever told.

"Nah I'm a pilot – I can fly it myself don't worry about it," he said shaking his head. The pilot's face fell slightly.

"Are you sure?" the young agent asked holding out the keys for him to take either way. Clint smiled at him.

"More then you know kid," Clint said grabbing the keys out of the pilot's hands and flashing him a slight grin. The young agent grinned back hesitantly – one pilot junkie to another – before he turned around and walked back towards project he was doing in the hangar. Clint glanced at Natalia standing beside him and found her watching him with the same critical eyes as before.

"And you were worried I would burn this place to the ground," she said flatly. She didn't even say a word in the whole conversation. Clint snorted.

"I'm _still_ worried you might do that," he muttered honestly. Natalia scoffed.

"Gee - such immense faith," she said sarcastically turning towards their waiting ride.

Natalia paused in her step when she caught Barton staring at her weirdly again.

"You really need to stop doing that…it's freaking me out," she said carefully stepping away from him. Clint sighed.

"Can you blame me?" he asked quietly. Natalia tensed.

"She's an _idiot_," she muttered for the hundredth time before she spun around with her red hair whipping around her like a whirlwind red storm as she stalked into the plane. Clint sighed and leaned his forehead against a wall beside him.

"_Tasha_," he whispered painfully and if you were standing beside the beaten agent the longing in his voice would hit you right in the pit of your chest.

_I miss you so damn much. _

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

An hour into the flight the silence was starting to get to Natalia and so she just blurted out the first question that popped into her head.

"Where did you learn how to fly?" she asked out of nowhere. Clint _almost_ looked surprised but quickly schooled his face.

"I taught myself with small propeller planes before I got to work with the big guns in the military and SHIELD," he answered hesitantly – he wondered how truthful he should really be. She tilted her head to the side as she watched the clouds passing them by through the window.

"What happened on your mission? Before I woke up? " she asked – equally out of nowhere. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"Why are you asking so many questions?" he asked suspiciously. She shrugged.

"Curious?" she said warily. He gave her a blank look.

"Try again," he said evenly.

"Maybe I just want to know?" she said dryly. Clint gripped the controls tighter in his grasp. She's trying to get a rise out of him – Natasha did that sometimes when she wanted to pick a fight for no reason.

"Don't push me Natalia – I may have a lot of patience but let me tell you I'm very close to even _my_ limit right now," Clint said warningly. Natalia frowned.

"I'm not pushing, I just want to know what triggered this reset problem and why I lost my enhancers so fast," she said evasively. Clint's eyes darkened dangerously.

"But _I _don't really want to talk about that right now," he said tensely. He was trying very hard not to think about what went down at the end of that disaster mission in Japan. He was just focusing on solving the most important problem right now and he would have to deal with everything else he put on the backburner later. Natalia wasn't taking the hint.

"But-" she tried one more time but he had _enough_ at that point.

"_Natalia_! 20 little girls are dead, my partner has fucking drug induced personality disorder and your attitude is not _helping_!" he shouted at her in a blaze of unrestrained anger and a dangerous amount of hurt. His patience had finally run out. Natalia took a deep breath as she saw the emotions storming in his eyes – she had her answer. She didn't like it.

"You're in love with me," she said accusingly.

Clint narrowed his eyes. _That's_ what she was trying to poke at?

"_No_. Love is for children. And even if I was – I'm definitely not in love with _you_," he spat. She didn't look phased at all.

"Oh what did I do? Did I seduce you into thinking we were going to be together forever? Did I say I loved you back? Did I promise you children, and a family and marriage and all the other stupid shit men want?" she asked actually sounding mildly interested in his answer. Clint tensed. Natasha didn't want any of those things and she said so herself. She never lied to him in their relationship – at least not about the things that mattered.

"You think this is a _joke_? You want to know something Natalia? You want to know why I know she wasn't using me? _Because I never slept with her_," he growled inches from her face. Natalia took a sharp breath as she watched something flash across his eyes. She knew he wasn't lying by the intensity in his eyes – but it wasn't the only thing that was there.

"But you want to," she whispered daringly. Clint's eyes darkened. That didn't matter. That wasn't the point.

"Not everything is about _sex_!" he shouted. Natalia scoffed.

"Everything between men and women is about power and domination – which all basically leads to sex. It's what all men want," she said harshly. That instantly had Clint's temper flaring. God he thinks he might have actually killed the Black Widow if he met this overly arrogant version of her the first time around.

"If the only thing I valued in my partner was her sexual appeal - trust me - she wouldn't be my partner. Even if nothing ever happened between us, even if all we were was professional colleagues, even if I had a girlfriend that wasn't her - if I had to choose? I would always choose my partner," he said staring at her dead in the eye. He slammed the plane into autopilot and unhooked his belt.

"I need a minute," he said tensely getting out of his seat and walking into the back of the jet. Natalia stared at the autopilot screen for several minutes as she tried to process what he was saying. She didn't understand what she was missing about him. She didn't understand how his head worked.

She has never met a man like him in her _life_.

After another 3 minutes of silent debating she got up herself and stalked into the back. She walked over the small washroom in the corner and threw open the door without even saying a word. Barton was hunched over the edge of the sink with his hands tightly gripping either side of the sink while he stared into the metal basin with pensive look. He looked like a man staring his destiny in the face and wondering if he should take a leap of faith and go after it.

Frankly if he was honest with himself the one thing he wanted to run after and run away from at the same time was the awkward looking Russian standing behind him.

She turned his life into a damn circus of emotions. And he knew the circus _very_ well.

"I'm sorry," Natalia said quietly breaking the silence. Clint didn't look up from the basin and just tightened his grip on the sink.

"It's not really your fault," he muttered. He was sick of playing the blame game so he was just going let this one go. There was no way he could live with a girl like her if he held every harsh thing she said against her. Natalia leaned against the edge of the doorway and stared at the ground.

"You think I have value?" she asked quietly. Clint sighed and gave her an exasperated look.

"Course you do idiot – you really think I'm the type to mix work and personal life? I didn't even _have_ a personal life before you," he admitted reluctantly. Natalia looked up and locked eyes with him through the little mirror above the sink and promptly looked away.

"Do you want to know what the difference between me and Natasha is?" Natalia said staring out the jet window beside her. Clint took a deep breath.

"Yes," he said seriously while still watching her intently through the mirror.

"Do you want the pretty lie or the truth?" she asked steadily.

"Both," he said carefully.

"The pretty lie is that once you find James Barnes and somehow convince him to give you the enhancers that will _probably_ reverse the reset you get Natasha back," she said carefully. Clint gave her a cautious look.

"Where is the lie in that statement?" he asked guardedly.

"The lie is the entire idea," she said quietly. Clint tensed.

"Stop speaking in riddles Natalia – you really don't want to piss me off," he said warningly. Natalia looked away from the window and looked directly at him.

"Natasha is me _with_ enhancers Barton," she said damningly. Clint froze. "So now I'm going to ask you – who's real?" she whispered.

Clint felt like a sonic arrow just exploded beside his head and killed his hearing. He couldn't hear anything - he couldn't even move. He thinks he was about to pass out when a peanut promptly smacked him right in the center of the back of his head.

"You failed," she said simply. Clint sputtered.

"What?" he asked while his head was still reeling. Natalia sighed.

"You're manipulated too easily Barton. I think you're a competent agent - but if I was anyone else you should have been able to see the answer to that question easily," she said evenly. Clint blinked.

"No - Natalia-" he started but she cut him off.

"Barton. I'm missing 2 years of my memories. I'm a psychological reset. I'm not real," she said calmly. Clint inhaled a sharp breath - he felt like such a big asshole for feeling the relief that flooded his system. He didn't think he could survive if Natasha wasn't real.

"Wait. So does this happen _every_ time the enhancers run out?" he asked carefully. Natalia winced.

"Probably," she muttered.

"Do you always...show up?" he said trying not to wince at how tactless he sounded.

"Theoretically yes - I don't really have to memories to be sure. We're going off of everything I know and what she told you right?" she said cautiously.

"Right," he said with a slow nod. She stared at him for a moment before looking away - again.

"Let's hope for both our sakes we can bully Barnes into giving us a good dosage of this enhancer stuff," she muttered. She doesn't know what happened between the last time she saw him and now – but it wasn't going to be pretty.

"Both?" Clint asked furrowing his brow. She gave him a weak smile.

"I really don't want to live the rest of my life with you making eyes at me," she said with a shrug. Clint sputtered gracelessly.

"I don't make eyes at you!" he denied instantly.

Natalia gave him a measured look.

"You do - and not in the normal _guy thinks girl is hot_ way. It's honestly freaking me out when you look at me like you'd jump in front of a bullet for me or something equally stupid and I'd really like to have the memories to be able to understand _why_," she said firmly. Clint paused.

"So do you feel anything for me Natalia? Anything at all?" he asked quietly. Natalia was silent for a moment.

"I think you're attractive...but I don't have memories to feel anything deeper than that - does that make sense?" she asked carefully watching his eyes as something that looked a lot like longing flashed across his blue gaze – too fast for her to be sure.

"Yeah," he said looking away.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**Moscow, 14 hours later, September 2003**

The second they landed in an empty field off in the outskirts of Moscow Clint knew Natalia was in her element. She had a confident sway in her step while she did the leading this time into the inner parts of the busy capital.

"You seem…comfortable," he said not being able to come up with a better word for how she was acting.

"My turf now," she said glancing over her shoulder and giving him a slight smirk. He raised an eyebrow.

"I've been to Moscow before," he said slightly amused. She shrugged like it meant nothing.

"Probably on a mission. Probably without any Russian contact. Probably froze your ass off on some chilly roof - doesn't count," she said simply. Clint watched her scan the streets with a careful look. He was expecting a little bit more apprehension on her part – but then again she didn't really know the type of trouble they could get into here.

"You left the Red Room on bad terms you know that right?" he said quietly. Natalia paused in her step for just a moment before she continued walking.

"It was going to happen eventually," she said carefully. Clint blinked.

"So you were always planning to leave?" he asked slightly surprised. Natalia led him around another dark corner and he felt the eyes on their backs – they were heading into the shadier side of the cool city. He wondered if she could really find her past partner with a 2 year gap in her memory. Natalia shook her head.

"Not planning…more like…waiting for the right opportunity," she said cautiously. Clint laughed softly.

"So I was just a convenient opportunity eh?" he said quietly. Natalia gave him a wary look.

"Don't ask me – ask her. After you kick her ass that is," she said with a shrug. Clint's eyebrows shot up again.

"How do you know I'm going to kick her ass?" he asked warily. Natalia snorted.

"Oh I can tell – it's all over your face. You are planning to stick it to her good," Natalia said with an eye roll. They continued down another few darker streets and Clint was starting to get antsy due to the hidden eyes. He felt like they stood out like a sore thumb – and she was a native.

"Okay the eyes are starting to get to me - give me one second," Clint said disappearing into a corner shop. Natalia blinked but did as he asked. She scanned the streets and glanced down at the watch on her wrist – 11 pm local time. It might be 2 years since she saw Barnes in her head – but he was a creature of habit and she didn't think he has changed much in 2 years if he's been almost the same for the past 60. She instantly felt when Barton reappeared behind her and tensed when he walked into her personal space.

"Wear this cap," he said instantly tugging an old worn black baseball cap over her head. Her red hair got tucked neatly under the rim and poked out messily around the sides of her face. He smiled slightly when it covered her eyes for a second before she knocked the cap up to be able to see him.

"I'm wearing this ugly thing because...?" she drawled. He grinned - she was actually kind of funny in a weird_ I'm crazy enough to keep attempting to murder you _kind of way_._

"It's to hide your easily identifiable hair of course," he said with a shrug as he threw on his own matching cap. Natalia raised an eyebrow but made no further comment.

_And because you look sexy in men's clothes. Particularly my clothes - but we're not going there. _He added silently in his head as he scanned the empty streets of Moscow.

"So where are we going oh Russian expert?" he asked after another few minutes of trailing her.

"A bar," she said with a mysterious smile on her face that nearly felt like a punch in the gut because it was _exactly_ like Tasha's.

"Why a bar?" Clint asked scrunching his nose up in distaste. Russian bars on this side of town…left a lot to be desired. They rounded a corner and Clint instantly got hit with the strong scent of alcohol – and sweaty men. He made another face.

"Because it's the fastest way to get his attention," Natalia said confidently striding into the bar and Clint could do nothing except follow after her. It was a noisy place with big Russian men sharing a pint (or seven) together in various states of drunkenness. He watched her confidently walk towards the back of the bar and plot herself down into a dark booth. He gave her discreet choice of strategic seating where she could see the front and back entrance an approving look and sat down across from her.

"How are you so sure he's going to come to this exact bar?" he asked curiously. He watched her scan the room before her eyes came to lock with his.

"Do you trust me?" she asked slowly. Clint gave her a careful look.

"I trust my partner. However, _we_ haven't really established a trust base yet," he said warily. Natalia gave her a measured look. _Well_…he was going to have to make a choice soon. Clint narrowed his eyes when he saw her click the safety off her gun.

"What are you planning Natalia…?" he asked slowly. She took a deep breath and stared at him.

"You have 10 seconds to decide to trust me or not Barton because we just walked into a bar own by one of the higher up players in the Red Room. Everyone in here is somehow linked to the illegal organization. We're going to make a lot of noise, get sighted and then run for our lives – Barnes will find _us_," she said seriously. Clint froze.

_Holy shit. _

"Ready?" she said as she felt the adrenaline start to pump through her veins. Clint stared at her like she was crazy – he knew for a fact that she _was_.

"_No_!" he exclaimed in serious alarm even as he instinctually pulled out his gun from his back pocket. Natalia threw him a careless smirk.

"Too bad! Time's up Barton!" Natalia said before she whipped out her gun and fired 5 consecutive shots and shattered a whole row of vodka bottles in the bar. The large noisy bar instantly went dead silent as everyone trained their killer eyes on the only redhead in the room. Clint felt like repeatedly banging his head against the table. Natasha just smirked and promptly knocked the black baseball off her head and let her long red hair cascade down her back – she wanted to do this for a long time.

"Hey boys – did you miss me?" she with a seductive wink. The tension in the room immediately skyrocketed when recognition flooded all the faces in the room.

The Black Widow was back in town.

Clint stared at her in disbelief.

Natasha would never do that! Never. Never. _Never_. Would she?

"This is the part where we run Barton!" Natalia called over her shoulder as she back into him. Clint just gaped.

"I _really_ hate you!" he shouted as they both ducked and ran for the exit just as _every_ single man the bar whipped out a load gun and bullets were literally licking at their heels as they burst out of the bar like two bats out of hell.

"Oh and they're all probably assassins!" she shouted over her shoulder as they flew down an alley with a mob of pissed Russians assassins on their ass.

Clint wanted to _strangle_ her.

"You're insane Natalia! Absolutely fucking _insane_!" Clint growled as they ran around a corner and barely missed the 20 shots fired at their heads.

"Thank me later!" she laughed as she felt the wind whip past her face and the adrenaline really starting pumping now.

Ah, it was good to be home.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Natalia lets you learn about a lot of things between Clint and Natasha that they choose not to talk about – mostly because they are so reserved about emotions to begin with. Nat forces him to see that he really needs to corner Natasha about many important topics they like to avoid. **

**That and she is also bat shit insane. **

**LOL. She really likes to make a scene. Haha. Sorry James is coming up right after this scene. Sigh I'll miss Nat – she's **_**crazy**_** in ways Natasha never will be haha. **


	74. Chapter 74

**I dare you **

**A/N: Jamesy Jamesy where are you Jamesy? (muhahahaaha) **

**LOL yeah, yeah, I'm an evil and cruel author – I've been told many times. Get over it. :P**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 74**

Clint and Natalia were both out of breath by the time they managed to dodge, duck and avoid every single last assassin Natalia had undoubtedly pissed off. By this point they were half way across the city and with probably half the Red Room assets searching the city while looking for them.

They finally stopped running in an alley behind a fortune teller's shop and Clint promptly collapsed onto the cold stone floor with his back propped against the cool wall. Natalia stood in front of him as she braced her palms against the wall over his head and tried to catch her breath as well.

"Out…of…breath…already old man?" Natalia taunted as she looked down at him and quickly managed to calm her heart rate back down to a sane level - much faster than he could. Clint snorted.

"Running was always your thing - waiting in utter stillness is mine. And I'm only 3 years older than you...at least physically," he said breathlessly while gesturing towards her nearly 22 year old body. Natalia rolled her eyes and promptly dropped down to the ground beside him. He felt her warm body pressed up against his as she skillfully reloaded her gun and vigilantly kept watch of their silent surroundings. He took several deep breaths - she would only sit that close if she wanted to prove something, she actually trusted him - or she was cold.

"I give him 20 minutes," Natalia said steadily as she brought her hands to her mouth and breathed warm air into them.

_Ding. Ding. Ding._ We have a winner. Cold it was. He didn't know why he was kind of disappointed - it wasn't like he wanted her close for any other reason...right?

Damn he wanted Natasha back to end this mindfuck.

"That's a lot of faith," he said dryly. She shrugged - she'd be proven right soon enough.

"You said I left on bad terms...was I on an assignment?" she asked suddenly. Clint gave her a wary look.

"Yeah. a rather high profile one. You were in Germany actually. You were trying to take out a defected ex-soviet politician that was apparently sharing Russian internal intelligence he shouldn't have known in the first place," Clint said keeping the details vague on purpose - he didn't exactly trust Natalia yet. Natalia didn't seem to mind the sidestepping.

"Did I kill him?" she asked casually titling her head to the side. Clint raised an eyebrow.

"What do _you_ think?" he asked dryly. Natalia huffed but then gave him an odd look.

"Did I shoot you instead?" she asked with mild amusement flickering across her eyes. Clint scowled.

"To be fair I shot you too and we were both bleeding to death while we fought for some switch to an explosive you had set up for him to walk into," he muttered. Natalia furrowed her brow.

"But I had enhancers," she pointed out. Clint snorted.

"Yeah, a lot of good _they_ do in the middle of a fight - they only accelerate healing Nat. It's not instantaneous - you can still die," he said seriously. She has almost died several times on their missions - they both have. He watched Natalia's amusement fade as she instantly sobered.

"So she's not some invincible assassin," Nat said quietly dragging her knees up to her chest. Clint shook his head.

"No...but she's a _damn_ good spy," he said as he watched her lean her chin against her knees. Natalia closed her eyes and took a shaky breath.

"You like her better," she said simply – it was a statement more than a question. Clint shook his head slowly. He wasn't going to play this game.

"There's no better. I like _you_ because you're still her. End of story," he said softly as he ran and hand through her tanged red hair - she didn't stop him. He waited patiently as she tried to get a good grasp on her chaotic thoughts.

"How?" she finally breathed. He paused as he tried to come up with a suitable answer.

"You share the same past don't you? Everything with the Red Room?" he said watching her face intently - it darkened just like he thought it would.

What could the Red Room have made her do that he already couldn't have guessed?

"Did she tell you about that?" she asked carefully. Clint paused as he stared at the ground.

"No. She doesn't like to talk about it," he said slowly. Natalia took a deep breath.

"It's because you'd hate her if she told you what she did," she said hiding her eyes behind her knees. Clint's eyes softened.

"I could never hate you," he whispered as he continued to run his fingers through her hair. Natalia made a huffing sound.

"You don't understand," she muttered shaking her head. Clint gently gripped the bottom of her chin and pulled her face away from her knees to look up at him. He saw so much pain in her eyes it hurt to keep looking - but he would never dare look away.

"_Make_ me understand Nat," he whispered staring at her dead in the eye. Natalia stared back with something that looked a lot like conviction.

"No. You have to ask her that one. I'm not going to be the one to tell you," she said firmly. Clint stared at her for another moment before he pulled away in defeat.

"She's never going to tell me Nat," he said with a heavy sigh. Natasha is not a sharing person. Natalia furrowed her brow.

"Can't you just look up our file? If you want to know so badly..." she muttered looking away. Clint stared up at the dark sky above their heads and laughed softly.

"No. It's you who doesn't understand now. I don't want to know those things because I'm curious - I know her life here was not pleasant. It was probably hell on earth. That is an indisputable fact. I want to know because I want to _know_ her. I want _her_ to tell me so that I know she wants me to know her too," he said quietly. Natalia tightened her iron grip around her knees.

"Even more reason to bully it out of _her_ then," she muttered. She wasn't Natasha.

"Natasha Romanoff is a very difficult person to bully," Clint said with a wince.

"Actually, I'd say it's quite possible if you know the right buttons to press," a deep voice said from several feet above their heads. Natalia and Clint both instantly tensed and had their guns trained on the shadowy figure perched on the fire escape two stories above them. Natalia saw the glint of a metal arm and knew it was _him_.

"James..." Natalia said in tense greeting. Last time she saw him in her head was after a botched assignment that had them both storming away from each other - but that was a long time ago. The man in question simply continued to sit on the edge of the metal staircase and gave the two agents pointing their guns at him a long look. They were kind of late.

"You two are rather oblivious to your surroundings when you're having a heart to heart - I've been sitting here with my gun pointed at his head for about 4 minutes now," James drawled showing them his loaded pistol. Clint tensed - shit he had a target on his forehead and he didn't even know it?

"Why didn't you shoot me then?" he asked guardedly. James propped his gun against his knee and raised a single thick eyebrow.

"Now that's a good question isn't it?" he said with a slight smirk pulling at the edge of his lips. Natalia narrowed her eyes.

"James, stop playing games with his head," she said taking a step in front of Barton. She didn't really trust Barnes not to try and shoot him _eventually_. James chuckled darkly.

"So I'm James now eh? Last time I saw you I was Barnes and you shot me in the chest," he said bitingly. Natalia shifted for a second under his accusing gaze but quickly straightened and stood her ground once more – it wasn't her fault whatever Natasha did to him.

"Not my fault - I don't exactly remember doing that. The last thing I remember is our failed assignment in Siberia," she said steadily. Clint gave her a sharp look but he was currently being ignored by both soviet spies. The danger lurking in James expression suddenly faded as he furrowed his brow.

"Siberia…right before they outfitted you with your enhancers..." he muttered as he watched her stand rigidly blocking his shot at SHIELD's resident archer with her gun still aimed at his head. It was a pointless gesture however - he could shoot 3 times faster than she ever could. He was always the better shot - he taught her everything she knew after all. "Are you Natalia right now?" he asked quickly catching on. Natalia took a deep breath.

"Yes," she said keeping her eyes trained on his – she didn't even dare to blink. James' face suddenly twisted into a sneer.

"And yet your still with _him_," he seethed as he shook his head in disgust. That had Clint's hackles rising instantly.

"I really don't like being talked about like I'm not standing right here you know," Clint said carefully interrupting the back and forth verbal match between the two former partners.

"Now you know how I felt," Natalia muttered to him. He was about to respond with a sarcastic remark when James decided he didn't like being ignored.

"Answer my questions first and bicker on your _own_ damn time. Why are you two in Russia? Are you stupid? Are you suicidal? Are you asking for a price tag to be stamped on your foreheads?" James asked heatedly alternating between glaring at either of the two SHIELD agents. Natalia and Clint both tensed.

"We needed access to her enhancers – we need to reverse her regression – there was no other option," Clint said through gritted teeth – he was itching to take a swing at this cocky bastard. He didn't even care if it was jealousy coursing through his veins - he would be satisfied with just one hit. James just _stared_ at them.

"And that's why you need me right?" he asked shaking his head in disbelief. He ditched an important assignment for bullshit like this? He promptly raised his gun and aimed it directly at the tense assassins. Natalia instantly mirrored his actions.

"Shoot him and I'll shoot you Barnes," Natalia said warningly. She wasn't about to let her old partner kill the new one she kind of wanted to get to know. James chuckled darkly and shook his head.

"Sorry Nat – wasn't aiming for the archer," he said simply before he promptly pulled the trigger.

_BANG_!

Clint froze as he watched Natalia instantly crumple to the ground right before his very eyes.

_Holy shit. _

"Did you just shoot my partner point blank you fucking _BASTARD_?" Clint roared with piercing rage blazing in his eyes. He was going to kill him. He was going make James Barnes wish he was never born. He was going to brutally beat him into the ground with his bare fists before he took his disgusting life! Clint could barely see anything past the red tinted anger clouding his vision as he shook with barely suppressed rage.

James simply gave the practically seething archer a bored look – Americans were so dramatic. They were always screaming their heads off before they even took a good look at the situation. James sighed.

"Calm down Hawkboy - it's a tranquilizer. Pick her up - we need to leave," he said calmly. Clint froze and instantly zoned in on the dart embedded in Natalia's shoulder – the fucker _had_ tazed her. The question was – _why_?

"We're not going _anywhere_ with you!" Clint growled and he instantly pointed his gun at the trigger happy soviet assassin's head – he was seconds away from pulling the trigger too. James simply sighed again like he was dealing with an annoying flea – young men with hero complexes the size of their massive egos were so annoying sometimes.

"You are being hunted by some of the most highly trained Russian operatives working for soviet intelligence. They know you're here and they're going to comb the city until they find you two. Red Room is not the only ones that want the Black Widow dead in Russia. You have no idea how stupid it was for you two to show up here practically asking for every hit man in Moscow to be sent after your ass," James said evenly.

They were idiots.

"We didn't really have a _choice_!" Clint hissed. James' face darkened.

"There is always a choice – who chooses to piss off a good _half_ of the Red Room assets just to get the attention of one in particular?" he asked heatedly. Who is _that_ stupid? Clint tensed.

"That one was all her," he muttered through clenched teeth. He wasn't a fan of giving away any anonymity they had in Russia so fast either. If Natasha was here she could have found a better way to find Barnes. James suspiciously scanned his face but finally sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I know. Natalia can be extremely hothead and reckless sometimes. Hurry up - we need to move," he said seriously. Clint narrowed his eyes. He didn't trust this man with ruthless eyes and a killer looking metal prosthetic arm. Frankly there were very few people in the world he trusted - and one of them was not mentally in control of herself right now.

"First tell me why did you knock her out?" Clint asked protectively guarding his partner's unconscious body. He wanted answers damn it! James gave him a sharp look.

"I need to have an overdue conversation with you - _before_ we have a conversation with her," he said seriously as he jumped down from the fire escape and landed directly in front of Clint. The archer stared at him. Why the fuck did he want to talk to him? All Clint wanted to do was to get a good swing at his face after the bloody mess he left of Natasha weeks ago in New York. He just wanted to grab the enhancers and get the hell out of Russia with his partner in tow. Now he was just utterly confused.

"What the hell?" Clint growled in frustration as he ran his hand through his hair. He'll never understand how Russian brains work. He never expected that he would have to learn to deal with them personally - but when he met Natasha, he knew instantly Russians were going to be a part of his life forever. Whether _she_ was going to be in his life forever was always up for debate - but he knew what he wanted. He always knew what he wanted. He narrowed his eyes as he finally got a good look at her ex-partner - _was he even Russian_? James returned his suspicious look with a guarded one of his own - in a different setting they were sure they would have already attempted to maim the other.

"Who are you?" Clint demanded instantly breaking the tense silent staring match. James didn't even react to his dangerously threatening stance.

"Just pick her up and let's go Barton - unless you'd like me to carry her?" James drawled gesturing casually towards the redhead sprawled limply on the cold stone floor.

Clint didn't give a shit if she'd be angry enough to kill the first person she laid eyes on when she woke up. He wasn't one of best for nothing.

"Touch her and I'll_ burn you alive_," Clint growled taking a threatening step forward. James stood his ground and glared back at him.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you Barton. Piece of advice - you're not going to keep her by acting like a possessive alpha male," James said steadily. Clint gritted his teeth and his eyes unwillingly flashed towards the unconscious redhead behind him.

"You think I don't know that?" he hissed. James narrowed his eyes and took a step forward himself and causing Clint to tense up and clench his fist around his gun.

"No, I _don't_. You're young and reckless. You're impulsive and rash. Men like you feel too much, too fast and with not enough control. You don't understand our world and you never will. People like Natasha don't get to walk away from their past. They didn't forget about her - they are just bidding their time. She might be done with Red Room but they aren't done with her. If you don't pull your act together Hawkeye - you're going to get her killed," James growled inches from his face. Clint clenched his jaw in anger and resisted the burning urge to club him in the head with his gun. How dare he imply he didn't know how much shit Natasha was in?

"I am not a child and neither am I a novice agent. I've been in the field long enough to have impeccable control. I know she is in danger - she has always been in danger - that is not news to either of us. But if you think my first priority is not always her safety you don't know me at all!" Clint spat viciously. James instantly grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and slammed the slightly shorter man into the wall. Clint scrambled to get his gun pointed at Barnes before he strangled him or something but all Barnes did was shake him angrily.

"I _don't_ know you Barton! All I know is that for some fucked up reason she chose to stay with you even if openly working for people like SHIELD is the stupidest decisions she ever made in her _life_!" James shouted instantly losing his semblance of icy calmness. Clint's eyes flashed in anger - he wasn't one to be manhandled by anyone.

"Let her make her _own_ god damn decisions!" Clint shouted roughly shoving him back. James' eyes darkened into pools of iron conviction and for a second Clint saw what Natasha must have seen in him to be _his_ partner for however many years they were together. Barnes was a leader - working for the wrong side but someone she would undoubtedly respect in a world where there were no morals or virtues.

There wasn't what pissed him off though. What royally pissed off Clint Barton was the fact that he had no fucking clue James Barnes even existed before yesterday.

He really needed to corner this woman and get her story straight - he was going insane not know half of anything he was learning about her in the last 24 hours. James suddenly slammed his fist into the wall beside the archer's head and Clint instantly had his gun trained to his forehead. He didn't need to look down to know there was an identical one digging into his stomach.

"I _did_. But believe me Barton, if she dies on your watch - I will hunt you down and stab your precious eyes out, break every bone in your beaten body and pin you to a dark alley at the bottom of the world with bloody butcher knives embedded in your skin. You'll regret ever entering Natasha Ramanoff's life and after I let you slowly bleed to death for days, when you are driven mad by the pain, begging my for death - I am going to put a bullet in your forehead and you can finally _go to_ _hell_," James growled menacingly. That was his promise. Clint narrowed his eyes and inhaled a sharp breath through his nose – he didn't doubt Barnes for a second.

_BANG_!

They both instantly ducked as a bullet whizzed over their heads and spun around to fire multiple consecutive shots at whoever just decided to interrupt their alpha male ego clashing battle. Clint caught sight of several black suits firing at them from around the curve of the alley.

Russian intelligence was here. _Shit_.

_BANG_! _BANG_! _BANG_! _BANG_

"_Now_ can we fucking leave?" James spat at him as he whipped a second gun out of nowhere and mercilessly shot down every suit that tried to get two feet into the alley. Clint didn't even spare their new arrivals a second thought.

"I thought you were _bluffing_ about intelligence?" Clint shouted as he quickly dropped to his knees and scooped his currently still sedated partner in his arms and only trusted Barnes to cover them because he had no _damn_ choice. He held Natasha's body that still had Natalia's mind trapped in regressed mode tighter and stared at her tense but still knocked out expression.

Shit those must have been some _damn_ good drugs not to wake her when there a freaking riot currently exploding around them. James promptly shoved Clint behind him as he continued to empty his bullets into deterring their new company.

"Why the fuck would I be bluffing?" James shouted over his shoulder in annoyance. He _told_ the idiot intelligence was coming. Clint scowled spitefully.

"I don't know - maybe because you are a fucking bastard who likes to talk big but cut up my partner not even two weeks ago?" Clint snapped with barely suppressed aggression coming off of him in waves. James instantly pointed his second gun at Barton's forehead and continued to keep their new arrivals busy with his brutal hits.

"_Shut up_ before I follow through with my dead serious threats Barton - take her around the corner and get your ass in the damn car. We're leaving Moscow _now_," he said firmly. Clint glared daggers at the gun shoved into his face – he couldn't do anything with Natasha in his arms.

"I already told you we aren't going anywhere with you!" Clint hissed. James shot him a sharp exasperated look.

"I am _sick_ of listening to your bipolar thoughts Barton! You're here for here enhancers right? You two sought me out because you have no clue what the hell you are looking for right? Then for god's sake take her out of the line of fire and _do_ your god damn job as her partner!" James hissed out. Clint instantly tensed.

"Don't tell me how to do my job!" he growled. James roughly shoved him back around the corner of the alley and out of direct line of fire.

"If you would just get your head out of your ass and do it properly I wouldn't _have_ to!" James spat in his face. Clint gritted his teeth and held Natasha as close to the wall and out of bullet range as he could. The only reason Barnes wasn't dead _right this minute_ was because of her. The only reason Clint was even risking his neck in Russia was because of her. The only reason he was doing _any_ of this was because of _her_.

"I don't trust you for _shit_!" Clint bellowed at the top of his lungs. James' tense expression suddenly hardened.

"Good. You would be one hell of a stupid bastard if you did," he said darkly before he promptly pulled out a black spiracle ball from his vest, yanked a metal key off the top of it and whipped it down the alley behind them. He shoved Barton into the wall and covered Natasha just as an explosion that was heard for likely miles that went off and nearly caused Clint to drop his partner altogether as the vibrations shove the entire street. As the deafening sound faded both Soviet assassin and American assassin held piercing eye contact for several tense moments.

Barnes just blew up innocent agents working for the legal side of Russian intelligence.

Clint just watched him do it.

They both knew neither of them gave two shits at the moment – even though Clint knew that he should have. It was hard to deal anything when you felt like you're steadily losing the most important thing in your life and helplessly watching it slip through your fingertips.

"Let's go," James ordered firmly as he brushed passed the rigid SHIELD agent who had a million thoughts racing through his sharp sniper mind at the moment.

Clint silently watched the flames flicker in the sky and consume everything that used to stand in the buildings surrounding the initial blast. He now saw where Natasha got her flare for dramatic bombs. He was staring into the face of the man who built the Widow into what she was today - before and after her enhancers - and he didn't like what he saw.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Haha I like James! We're not done with Barton vs. Barnes head butting yet – and boy when Natalia wakes up she is going to murder both of them LOL. How truthful do you think Barnes is being? What the hell does he get out of this? Is he in love with Natasha or is it something else that makes him want to keep her alive? Are the enhancers even going to work? What does he know about Natalia/Natasha situation that they haven't figured out yet? **

**So many questions. Poor Clint is going insane over everything about Natasha's past exploding right in front of his eyes. **

**Until next week! **


	75. Chapter 75

**I dare you **

**A/N: ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT CHAPTERS OF THIS STORY! **

**It's going to be fun! FOR ME :D LMAO. **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 75**

After 10 minutes of silent driving past the buildings peppering the outskirts of Moscow and coasting down an empty country road that ran along a forest the tension in the car with 1 pissed American assassin, 1 dangerous Russian assassin and 1 unconscious ex-Russian assassin was practically boarding on unbearable. When the silence hit the 20 minute mark Clint had enough. He clenched his fists at his sides and turned to give the man beside him a sharp look.

"Where are we going?" he asked stiffly being the first to speak since their explosive argument in the alley. James mouth thinned into a firm line but he answered nonetheless.

"My emergency safe house," he said with his dark eyes trained on empty dirt road in front of them. Clint narrowed his eyes as a hundred different scenarios played across his mind - he was trained to always expect anything.

"Is it Red Room?" Clint asked suspiciously. Were they walking into a trap? Was he lying to them? James finally tore his eyes away from the road and gave the archer the _don't say stupid things that make me want to stab you_ look. Clint scowled at him until he saw James' expression melt into a serious gaze.

"Barton – whether you're dead or alive makes no difference to me. The _only_ reason I'm not emptying my gun into your chest right now is because you matter to her. I don't know why and I won't pretend to understand - because I don't. But Romanoff is an adult - she's allowed to make her own mistakes," James said steadily. Clint stared at his hands lying limply in his lap. _Natasha_. _Am I going to be a mistake?_

"Some things you can't understand unless you've felt them too," Clint said quietly. James narrowed his eyes and stared at the rigid American assassin unwillingly sitting next to him. At any another time they would be at each at each other's throats - but life was always full of ironies.

"Maybe it's not her I should be worrying about. Maybe I don't have a proper read on the situation - but I don't think I'm dead wrong either. You should know agent Barton - Natasha Romanoff doesn't believe in love. Don't fall for someone like her - because the second you do she'll disappear," James said seriously. Clint was silent as he stared out his window even if he wasn't able to see anything at all.

They both knew he was already falling anyway.

"I know," Clint said calmly. He already promised her he wasn't looking for love. But he wasn't stupid enough not to understand where his own feelings were heading. He wasn't in intense denial about his emotions like he knew his partner always was. James frowned as he stared at the man he considered a fool.

"You're setting yourself up for disaster," James muttered shaking his head. He watched Natasha throw away too many eager men and break too many hearts to believe she actually decided that _this_ was the first man she wasn't going to royally screw over.

"Maybe I want to flirt with disaster," Clint said suddenly with an empty laugh. James gave him a look of disbelief.

The man was _crazy_. Natasha sure knew how to pick em. Clint instantly sobered after a few moments and a serious look entered his eyes. James may not _like_ the nut-job agent - but he could see that he was not an amateur assassin.

"How long is she meant to be knocked out?" Clint asked carefully watching Barnes' face for any lies - he found none that he could detect but Barnes could possibly be one of the best trained liars in the world so Clint wasn't going to underestimate this man for even a second.

His relationship with Natasha depended on it. If he even had a shot at getting her back that is.

"Not much longer," James answered as they both glanced back at the redheaded firecracker assassin lying across the back seat that liked to drive a bulldozer through both their lives.

"Is threatening me within an inch of my life the only reason you rendered her unconscious?" Clint asked carefully. James' expression hardened.

"No. I wanted to tell you about her enhancers without Natalia listening," he said cautiously.

"Why?" Clint asked with equal caution. James' eyes darkened.

"Because she might not want to go back on them if she has too long to think about it," James said firmly. Clint narrowed his eyes - he didn't believe in tricking anyone into anything. He would never force Natalia to take the enhancers.

"You've known Natalia longer then Natasha. Wouldn't you want her to stay as Natalia?" Clint asked guardedly. James sighed.

"It's not always about what you want Barton. How long do you think Natalia would last without the enhancers? She'd get herself killed within a week," he said flatly. Clint scoffed.

"Natasha is smarter and can strategize better that is obvious - but Natalia is just as a skilled assassin as she is," he said defensively. He didn't know why exactly he was being defensive. James shook his head.

"You haven't known her long enough to see the distinct changes between her and Natasha. The enhancers change her brain chemistry - that's why she had a radical personality change," he said gripping the steering wheel in his hands tighter.

"Radical my ass," Clint muttered. More like bipolar. James ignored his grumbles.

"She thinks faster, strategizes fasters, her reflexes are faster, she can run faster - basically it accelerates everything about her physically and mentally," he continued. Clint felt his heart sink.

"So Natalia really is her when she is not enhanced," Clint said slumming against his seat. Everything about his partner came from a bottle?

"No. Not exactly. Natalia is her past self - she is not going to regain any memories after 20. Natalia is and always will be stuck mentally at 20. She's a static piece of Natasha's past trapped inside her mind. She has the memories of the last 2 years in her head though. Natasha's memories are just too complex and detailed for Natalia's mind to process. Natasha can remember everything in her memory with perfect clarity and detail - that is what makes her such a good asset. The only way she gets those memories back - is if she goes back on the enhancers," James said carefully. Clint furrowed his brow as he took all of that in._ Holy shit_ did Natasha even know about all this crap?

"So she's forced to be a drug addict for the rest of her life?" Clint said in disgust. That was the _last_ thing he wanted for her.

"Only if she wants to be," James said with a shrug. Clint stared at the man whose motives made no damn sense to him - except one possible angle.

"You're in love with her," Clint said flatly. James instantly narrowed his eyes.

"No. Love is for children Barton," he said firmly. Clint furrowed his brow.

"So _you're_ the one who told her that," he said under his breath. James glanced at the suddenly seething American who was glaring daggers into his skull.

"It's not love. I've known Natasha for years Barton. She excelled in everything they threw at her. She is the perfect spy, the perfect asset, the perfect assassin. That is also why they want her back or want her _dead_," he said seriously. One way or another Natasha was going to be haunted by the Red Room for the rest of her life - but James didn't know how long her window for a pardoned return would stay open. Clint angrily slammed his fist into the dashboard in front of him.

"They also _broke_ her. She never sleeps more than a few hours a night. It takes forever for her to let her guard down - even if it's just us. And she has nightmares she won't tell me about," he said rubbing his face frustration. How could he help her if she still keeps him 5 meters away from her?

"Everyone has nightmares Barton and people in our field don't like to share," James said carefully. Clint's expression suddenly hardened.

"Her nightmares got worse around the same time _you_ showed up!" he said accusingly. James whipped his head to the side and glared at Barton like he was seconds away from throwing him out of this car.

"Don't blame everything that happened to her on me Barton - Natasha was a part of the Black Widow program for _years_ before I was assigned as her trainer!" James shouted defensively.

"Then if you care so much why the _fuck_ did you cut her up like she was confetti in New York?" Clint shouted back. James' eyes flashed in anger.

"I was _angry_!" he said heatedly. Clint's eyes flashed dangerously.

"That doesn't give you the right to nearly kill her!" he shouted.

"Enough with the righteous bullshit Barton! Don't tell me you haven't fought with her till the point you wanted to kill each other. Don't tell me she doesn't drive you to the brink of insanity. Natasha is not a sane partner. Don't be a hypocrite!" he hissed. Clint tensed as memories of some of their seriously messed up bloody fights flashed across his mind. Images of Natasha slamming him into a wall with utter rage flashing in her angry green eyes burned into his mind. _Shit_.

None of them were sane.

"Fist fights and actually knives are two very different fights," Clint said dangerously. He would never take a knife to her. James narrowed his eyes.

"They were all superficial wounds. She was completely healed by the next day wasn't she?" he growled. Clint glared at him.

"That's not the point! The point is that she could have still bled to death!" Clint spat. James gripped the steering wheel in his hands tighter and nearly broke the metal in half as he suppressed his desire to punch the archer seething beside him dead in the face. He instantly dragged his eyes away from the tense SHIELD agent and stared a hole into the street they were driving down.

"You're going to listen to me and you're going to listen _well_ Clint Barton. If I wanted Natasha Romanoff dead - she would have stopped breathing the day she accepted your offer," James said evenly. Clint took a sharp breath.

They both knew he wasn't bluffing.

"I'm going to kill you one day Barnes," Clint growled with conviction. James' eyes darkened.

"I look forward to sliding my knife into your chest and watching you choke on your own blood," James said with equal amount of burning hatred.

"There would be an exploding arrow in the center of your own chest before I took my last breath," Clint promised with fire shooting out of his eyes.

They both glared fiercely at each other as the air crackled with the rage building between them. Jealousy was the last thing they were clashing about.

They would be on the ground rolling the punches if it wasn't for the deadly assassin knocked out in the back seat.

"I will kill you _both_," a dangerous ominous voice said from behind them. They both froze.

_Oh shit. _

Clint instantly spun around and saw a tense Natalia nearly shaking with rage as she glared daggers at her ex-partner's head.

She was finally awake.

_Boy_ was he glad he wasn't the one who pulled that tranquilizer. He already had his fair share of Natalia trying to kill him.

Though he was pretty sure she would be on his ass right after she slit Barnes' throat.

One can hope she'd spare him – if only so she would have someone to yell and rage at about the stupidity of tazzing her. Clint silently agreed that she needed to be knocked out during that conversation he just had with Barnes. Natalia was just not calm like Natasha would have been.

"How _dare_ you tazz me you bastard!" Natalia growled as she shoved her gun into the back of Barnes' head which accidentally cause him to nearly ram the car into a tree on their left.

"Oh for the love of _god_ there are too many assassins in this car!" Clint shouted throwing his hands up in the air. James narrowed his eyes as he head got shoved forward as he tried to keep them still on the road.

"Nat, I'm the driver here - please think before you point that thing at someone," he said steadily. Natalia faltered for only a second before she was firm in her resolve.

"Pull over," she ordered threateningly. Clint and James both instantly shared a look.

"Can't do that Nat – we're kind of on the run from intelligence," Clint said carefully. Natalia narrowed her eyes.

"Give me one good reason not to shoot you both _right this minute_," she hissed.

"The enhancers are at the safe house we are about to reach in 1 minute," James said immediately – they both cautiously gauged her reaction to that statement. Natalia took a deep breath and pinched in the bridge of her nose. She _hated_ drugs – they always left her feeling so off balance.

"1 minute?" she said slowly. James instantly nodded as Clint sagged against his seat in relief.

Damn she was scary – that was sadly part of the reason why they liked her so much.

_Literally 1 minute later. _

"Finally - freedom! Away from _you_ two!" Natalia growled as she kicked open the car door and stormed down the path that led to a small hidden cabin 100 meters in front of them. Clint and James both held back for a second as they heard her ranting up a storm even from this distance.

Sometimes they wondered exactly who they were fighting over. She _clearly_ didn't see either of them in a good light at the moment.

"She's bipolar," Clint said flatly with a blank look. James snorted.

"I know. And the enhancers never fixed that," he deadpanned. Clint suddenly looked away from his raging partner and stared at Barnes.

"Why do you care Barnes? Why are you helping us?" Clint asked suspiciously. James' face instantly twisted into a look of disgust.

"Don't get sentimental Barton - she was my best student. Just because she's screwing you and choose now to have a rebellious streak doesn't mean I'm going to let her ruin years of my hard work," James said heatedly. Clint stared at the rigid man and shook his head.

"Liar," Clint whispered. He knows a lot about lying to yourself when it comes to Natasha Romanoff. James gave him a burning glare.

"We're all liars agent Barton," he said carefully as he stalked after their redheaded assassin.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The second they all got into the cabin Clint pointed his gun at James' head with deadly intently. He was done with forced politeness.

"Where are they?" he demanded. He wanted this fiasco behind him as fast as possible. James didn't even flinch.

"Go get them if you want them Barton. The enhancer injectors are in the lab downstairs on the work table," James said without looking away from Natalia. Clint felt a fierce ugly green headed emotion rise to the surface once again.

"Are you shitting me? I'm not leaving you alone with her!" he growled. Natalia instantly locked eyes with him and gave him a pointed look.

"Do what he says Barton. I want to have a conversation with him," she said steadily. Clint stared at her in disbelief.

"Natalia..." Clint said warningly. She shot him a deadly look.

"The faster we get the enhancers the faster I get my memories back. Now _go_!" she said angrily. Clint clenched his jaw but knew she was right. He gave her one last piercing look before he flew out of the room to get what they came here for. Clint hoped beyond hope that he would be walking out of Russia with these enhancers and his partner _both_ intact. The second Clint disappeared James was in her face and backing her into a wall.

"Why him?" James demanded instantly. Natalia narrowed her eyes.

"How the fuck should I know?" she hissed. James slammed his palms against the wall on either side of her head - she didn't even flinch.

"Oh cut the crap - if you truly didn't want to stay with him you could have slipped away at any time since you woke up as Natalia," James said dangerously. Natalia clenched her hands into fists and glared at him.

"I woke up in a burning underground trafficking base in _Japan_! Then I met him and he knocked me out and I woke up with one hell of a concussion on a god damn boat in the middle of the _ocean_! So I'm sorry if I couldn't exactly get away even if I _did_ want to!" she shouted. James' eyes darkened.

"Smarter than I thought," James muttered. Clint Barton was clearly full of surprises. James suddenly got a determined look on his face and instantly grasped her by the shoulders and she watched as his cold mask slipped for a second and true worry shone through his eyes.

"Come back Natalia. Stop whatever rebellious streak you're on and come back," he said almost pleadingly. Natalia froze as she heard the plea in his voice. James _never_ sounded like that. It was almost as if he was scared for what was coming for her if she didn't.

"I- I-" she started hesitantly.

"_Get away from my partner_," a dangerous voice said from behind him. James sighed - damn this American really pissed him off.

"Did you find the injector?" he asked tightly without turning around.

"Cut the bullshit and step away from her before I stick a bullet in your brain," Clint threatened. James chuckled darkly.

"So you did find it. Good - but I'm not done here yet," James said while still staring at his ex-partner who was still tensely staring back. Clint clenched his jaw.

"Oh you're definitely done. Step _back_ Natalia," Clint ordered. James ignored the gun pointed at his head and continued.

"You still haven't answered me Nat," he said calmly. Clint narrowed his eyes and instantly locked eyes with his partner who still didn't remember him yet.

"Natalia..." Clint said warningly.

Natalia rapidly felt the pressure fall on her shoulders as she looked back and forth between the two polar opposite assassins. She instantly pushed James away from her and took several steps back from both of them. She couldn't breathe – they were suffocating her. James was the first to speak.

"Come back Natalia, If you come back they'll stop hunting you and we can be partners again. Do you really think a constricted organization like SHIELD is the right place for you?" James asked seriously. Clint growled and shoved his gun harder into Barnes' head.

"Don't listen to him Natalia - they're the reason you lost your memory in the _first_ place!" Clint said insistently. God he hoped she didn't choose Barnes - he didn't think he could survive if she left. He didn't think he could go on if he lost Natasha forever.

Natalia locked her jaw in frustration as she tried to decide.

Chose the man who suffered through hell with her or the man who showed her what the world was like outside of hell?

Natalia took a deep breath and made her decision.

"I choose him," she said with finality. Both James and Clint inhaled sharply as they stared at the direction of her outstretched hand.

She was pointing at Clint. He nearly collapsed to his knees in relief. Natalia choose him - she didn't even _know_ him and she chose him. In that moment Clint knew that somewhere deep into her psyche he represented more than just a good partner - he represented freedom from a world she felt like she was trapped in for too long.

That is why she will always pick Clint Barton.

"So you really are going to choose him every single time," James muttered as he sighed in defeat. Natalia look away guiltily.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

_BANG_!

They all tensed with their hands tightly gripping their guns as they heard the front down slam into the wall as it was viciously shoved open. If that was an ambush the infiltrator was an _idiot_.

"JAMES BARNES HOW DARE YOU LEAVE ME HANGING ON ASSIGNMENT?" a familiar voice bellowed in rage from down the hall.

Clint and James both winced. Oh no. They knew who that was. 5 seconds later the door to the room they were all rigidly having a standoff in nearly flew off its hinges as it was kicked from the other side and swung open to reveal the utterly _pissed_ face of Yelena Belova. She opened her mouth to start her furious ranting when her eyes caught up with her runaway head.

"Well fuck…," she said as the angry words died on her lips and she stared at the scene in front of her. James sighed and rubbed his temples - Black Widows really got on his nerves sometimes.

"Lovely entrance Belova," James said sarcastically. Yelena narrowed her eyes and promptly pointed her gun at his forehead. Now there were _definitely_ too many assassins in the room.

"You fucking ditched me and the target got away!" she growled. James simply stared at her.

"So we'll hunt him down and get him the second time. It's not a big deal Belova," he said carefully telling her with his eyes to shut up and make a hasty exit before he got pissed. She narrowed her eyes but knew he was her superior at the end of the day and she didn't particularly like his nasty brand of punishment.

"I'll be in the car," she said tightly - her words were laced with icy cold contempt. She wanted to know what the hell was going on and he better tell her. She locked eyes with both Clint and Natalia for one tense moment before they all watched her storm back down the hall with her blond hair whipping behind her like a whip. Clint narrowed his eyes – was it him or had she gotten colder since Italy?

"Seems like you already have a partner Barnes," Natalia said carefully. James shook his head.

"Trainee. Not my partner - she hasn't proven that she is ready for solo missions yet," he said seriously. Belova had a long way to go before she ever got to Natasha's level - and that was never going to happen unless she got dosed with the Russian enhancers too. Natalia gave Barnes a suspicious look.

"Does she have enhancers too?" she asked slowly. James stared out the window as he watched his protégée viciously yank her car door open and slammed it shut behind her as she planted her ass on the seat and crossed her arms with a permanent scowl on her face. She was a handful – but she was also one of the only girls who survived training. She was made from the same cloth as Natasha.

"No. I'm delaying it..." he said as torn his eyes away from Belova's pissed figure and glanced back at his ex-partner. She narrowed her eyes as she caught onto his thoughts.

"...but they won't let you delay it forever," she finished for him. He refused to acknowledge what they both knew was true. Eventually she wouldn't have a choice. But this wasn't about Belova. If he couldn't get Natalia to come back he was done here.

"Goodbye Natalia," James said stiffly taking a step back towards the door. Natalia took a step back herself and hit a solid chest that had an instant calming effect on her. She felt a warm hand on her lower back and something told her she was making the right choice.

"Bye James," she said steadily. She wouldn't be changing her mind anytime soon. James nodded and finally glanced up to lock eyes with the silent American who had been watching and analyzing everything that had just taken place in the 3 minutes. He was good at appearing to be invisible - but he was clearly not invisible anymore.

"Regardless of whatever happens here my threat still stands Barton - don't regret your decisions," James said warningly before he spun on his heels and walked out. Neither of them moved as they listened to the soviet assassin's heavy footsteps down the hall and the telling sound of a door slamming shut as he left the small cabin. Clint instantly moved to the window with his finger on the trigger as he watched one of two black SUV cars pull out of the driveway. He really was leaving them here.

Silence reigned in the stuffy room that suddenly felt too crowded even if there _was_ only two people sharing the space within it. Clint took a deep breath through his nose. She chose him – but that didn't mean he really had her.

"Nat...are you...was Natasha in love with him?" Clint asked carefully as he watched the car disappear into the distance. They were truly alone now. He felt Natalia instantly tense behind him.

"No - there's no such thing as love in our world here," Natalia said staring at him with a peculiar look in her eyes that he completely missed. Clint felt his heart sink.

"So she was," he said closing his eyes. Natalia firmly shook her head. He was wrong.

"I don't know what type of relationship you have with Natasha - but I don't think it's same as what I had with James…" Natalia said carefully. Sleeping with someone doesn't mean you were in a dead serious relationship with them. She had a feeling that even though Natasha clearly hasn't done Barton in the sack their relationship ran deeper than hers and James.

But she didn't know how to tell Clint any of that.

"What if it was?" Clint whispered. They both stared at each other for a long tense moment.

"Why would I leave if I was in love with him?" she said quietly. There was a momentary silence as they both got lost in their own thoughts.

"I don't think either of us knows the answer to that one," Clint muttered finally. Natasha was the one who made the choice to accept his offer back in Germany - not Natalia. Natalia stared at the ground for a long moment before she finally spoke.

"There are a lot of things you can't control in life agent Barton - you can't control your past because it's already over, you can't control where you were born or even the type of body you were born with. You can't control other people's actions and you can't control what type of atrocities and hardships you will inevitably face in your life. _But, _the few choices we do get to make are the ones that matter the most," she finished quietly as she crouched down and picked up the fallen enhancer injector off the floor and held it out for him to take. Clint felt his heart start to spasm at what she was saying.

"This one is _my_ choice," she said firmly gesturing for him to relieve her of the device that was supposed to reset everything to the way it was before. Clint slowly took the injector from her with a slight shake in his hand. Natalia took a seat on the bed and waited for him to snap out of whatever trance he was currently trapped in.

"Are you ready?" he finally managed to choke out. Natalia gave him an encouraging smile. _He_ was the one who looked like he wasn't ready.

"Bye Clint Barton," she said softly. Clint held the enhancer in his hand and stared at it for a long moment.

"This is what you want right Natalia?" he asked quietly. Natalia laughed and her hair fell into her face - Clint felt his heart clench in his chest.

"Are you having second thoughts agent Barton?" Natalia asked with a raised eyebrow. He glanced up and locked eyes with a girl he can't believe made him fall for her _twice_. He put the enhancer down for a second and gently cupped her face in between his palms and Natalia felt her breath catch in her throat. The amusement faded from her face as a different feeling clouded her head.

"Tell me to stop Nat," he whispered.

"I don't want you to," she whispered back. She closed her eyes as familiar lips captured her mouth and she felt her body respond to his gentle kiss like it has gone through the motions several times before. She felt herself wrap her arms around his neck and pulled him closer until he was nearly falling into her. She knew she made the right choice when she felt something warm in her chest – she's kissed James before – it didn't feel like this.

The first thought that entered _Clint's_ head when he kissed her was that she tasted different. Natasha tastes like ice, adrenaline and something like home. Natalia tasted like fire, youth and nostalgia.

He liked both - the only different was that he fell for Natasha first and so she would always come first in his heart.

When the need for oxygen made itself known Clint finally pulled back and felt a little male satisfaction when he saw the flushed and slightly dazed expression on her face. Yeah he was a damn good kisser.

He never said he was a modest man.

"I wanted you to do that since you patch me up on that stupid boat," Natalia said breathlessly. Clint chuckled deeply. Nice to know he could make both sides of his partner have the hots for him. His eyes suddenly softened as they lost the mischievous glint and he gently pressed the tips of his fingers to her face.

"I'll tell you this again later, but if you remember any of this - know that I like _all_ the parts of you," he said sincerely as he cupped her face in his palms. He really did. He might prefer Natasha in all her cold icy coolness and biting glares but that didn't mean he disliked her Natalia side. He was rewarded with a brilliant warm smile – she should smile more often. It lights up her face and makes all the hardness about her melt away.

That's what smiles are supposed to do he imagined.

"That's nice to know," she said softly. No one has ever said they genuinely liked her. Sure men have professed their undying love to her so many times it had become meaningless - but never genuine affection. Most men were always after just one thing.

Clint Barton was not most men.

"Even if you are a bit crazier than her," he said flashing her a cheeky grin and killing the moment. Natalia scoffed and threw the injector back at him.

"Hit me with your best shot Agent Barton," she said seriously. Clint easily caught the injector and brushed her red hair to the side as he held the needle directly above her collar bone. They both stared at each other for a long moment.

This might be the last time he ever saw Natalia - but he didn't regret meeting her. He would never regret seeing any side of Natasha. One day he wanted to know everything about her. He stared into Natalia's eyes and only saw calm acceptance lurking in her sharp green gaze.

"You're real Natalia," he whispered before he injected her with the illegal soviet formula and caught her as she fell into his arms and blacked out. He did like Natalia - but he wanted his partner back. He needed Natasha back.

"I _need_ you to come back Tasha," he softly lying her down onto the bed and running his fingers through her familiar soft red hair.

He really hoped the enhancers worked. He didn't want to lose the one good thing that ever happened to him in his life.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**.**

**.**

**A/N: And now you wait and wonder if the enhancers did their job. Is Natasha coming back? Or are we stuck with Natalia forever? **

**Frankly it all comes down to - what do think I would do? ;) **

**Suspense! Until next time little readers! Ahaha. I'm evil. So very evil. But how evil is evil right? Am I that evil?**** Does anyone have faith in me? LOL. I have too much fun messing with you guys. **


	76. Chapter 76

**I dare you **

**A/N: ATICIPATION? You bet! LOL bipolar! YOU DIDN'T SEE THIS CHAPTER COMING! YOU ALL NEED A BETTER IMAGINATION: P (or you can borrow mine – it's okay) **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 76 **

Clint was silent as he sat in an uncomfortable chair beside the bed and stared out the cabin window like he has been doing for the past 5 hours as he waited for whatever Natasha's reality was going to be when she woke up. He still had his gun in his hand and was vigilantly keeping watch of the road just in case James Barnes felt spiteful and gave their position away and sent an assassin army to swarm them while they were at their weakest. His sharp focus never wavered - but his resolve that Barnes was simply a lying manipulative bastard did.

No one showed up.

At the 6th hour mark Clint's blank expression turned into a deep frown as he begrudgingly accepted that the Red Room trainer had indeed kept to his word. He was going to let them slip out of Russia unseen and undetected. He was doing his ex-partner one last favour.

Clint didn't think for a second that Barnes would be so kind the next time they saw each other. They chose their side and he chose his. The next time Clint crossed paths with that soviet assassin he was going to deck him in the face and point an arrow at his chest.

Clint sighed as he rubbed his aching temples as he continued to stare out of the window and all he saw was dull pine trees shrewd in darkness. He had too much time to himself now after the last 3 days of utter chaos since he got off that flight in Tokyo. Now he was sitting in a forest cabin outside of Moscow several thousand miles away from the island country he experienced one of the most fucked up missions of his life in and another couple thousand miles from home.

_Home_. The word echoed in his thoughts. He was ready to go home, he had been ready to take a well-deserved break since the trafficking base blew up in Japan and kick started one of the worst private disasters they ever faced in their partnership. This was even worst then being kidnapped by your target and watching the other get shot in front of you. At least then he knew somewhere deep down that if they had more time he could have got through to her. Now he doesn't even know if he is going to get Natasha back in one piece - no matter how much time he had.

"Keep frowning like that and it's going to become a permanent feature on your face Barton," a familiar calm voice said from behind him.

Clint froze and his gun promptly slipped out of his hand and clattered to the floor. His eyes glazed over as he lost sight of the road he had been watching so vigilantly for the past few hours.

It sounded like her.

But what it actually her?

He took a shaky breath and slowly turned around to face the bed and he thinks he was going to pass out in happiness when he saw her sharp green eyes awake and staring back at him with...

...fondness and a hint of annoyance.

"Hey Clint," she said softly. Clint felt his heart start racing and he's sure his legs would've given out by now if he wasn't already seated. She was sitting up on the bed with the same rumpled black stealth outfit she was wearing the day before. Her red hair was having a bad case of tangled bed hair - she looked like an exhausted mess and yet he couldn't remember a time when she looked more beautiful than right now.

But was it really Natasha or still Natalia?

Natasha or Natalia?

Natasha or Natalia?

Natasha or Natalia?

"What did I ask you to tell me the day after our mission in Italy in our hotel room before I passed out?" he whispered instead of asking her directly. He watched her take a deep breath as she slowly closed her dark green eyes. Of all the things he could ask to confirm that it was her he had to ask for that specific memory - especially when he was sure she wouldn't refuse. Bastard.

"I need you Clint," she whispered tiredly but honestly. She was exhausted but humored him anyway - he deserved it.

Clint felt his head start to spin as a huge tsunami wave of relief nearly washed him away.

He _really_ needed to hear that after everything they've been through.

"_Tasha_," he breathed out as he shot forward and instantly knocked her off balance and had them both crashing onto the uncomfortable bed in a tangled mess of limbs.

"Tasha. Tasha. Tasha. _Natasha_," he whispered in an endless chant as he cupped her face in his warm rough hands and stared down at her with no walls blocking any of his intense emotions. He was tired of walls.

Natasha felt slightly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of emotion that was pouring out of him but she didn't shove him away like she usually would have - in fact she even let him hold her tighter. She'd probably let him do whatever the hell he wanted after what he's been through for her.

No one else would've bothered to go half way across the world to fix a woman who is already in too many pieces to ever be whole again - but Clint Barton always made a habit out of attempting the impossible.

He had so many questions he wanted to ask her, so many things he wanted to kick her _ass_ for, so many ways he wanted to make her his - but there was just one question he needed the answer to above everything else right now. Just one. He pulled back from his bone crushing hug and she immediately saw what he wanted in his eyes. She gently placed her hand against his own cheek and he leaned into her touch as they continued to stare at each other.

"Yes, I remember being Natalia," she said quietly answering his unasked question. Clint took a deep breath - so that meant she remember all their conversations - including their not so pleasant ones.

"Everything?" he asked carefully running his hands through her hair and trying to smooth out her bird nest look - he knew how much she hated looking like a mess. Natasha grimaced as she remembered exactly what transpired in the last 48 hours. Natalia was such a crazy bipolar piece of work. It gave Natasha a headache just thinking about her.

"Everything," she said reluctantly as she looked up at him and he saw hesitant apologies lurking in her eyes. She tried to kill him so many times it was a miracle he was still alive. Clint gave her a warm smile as he brushed her cheek with his thumb.

"It's okay - I gave you a serious amnesia causing concussion so we're even," he said reassuringly. Natasha's expression instantly went blank.

"She tries to stab you with a pen, knock you out with a book, shoot you point blank, forced you to almost shoot _yourself_, threw you both overboard in the middle of the ocean and nearly choked you with _my_ thigh choke move - that's not even Barton," she deadpanned. Clint simply grinned at her - he missed her special brand of sarcasm.

"But we kissed and made up so it's all good now," he said cheekily wagging his eyebrows at her as his hands skimmed hers sides in a suggestive manner. Natasha shot him an incredulous look and blatantly ignored his playful dirty invitation.

"Has some of Natalia's insanity rubbed off on you?" Natasha asked in disbelief. He snorted as he brushed several loose strands of her red hair out of her face and trailed his fingers down her cheek. He can't stop touching her now that he knows it's her staring back at him with her special spark of annoyance flashing in her eyes. _He missed her. _

"Not any more than your _lovely_ sarcasm has," he said dryly. Natasha promptly scowled at him.

"Can you get off of me now?" she said poking him in the side and gesturing towards her position trapped beneath his weight. Clint did no such thing – if anything he pressed them even closer together.

"No," he said plainly. He wasn't letting her go anywhere for at least the next 20 minutes. He needed to feel her solid steady heart beat beneath his, along with _her_ eyes to make sure she was really here. Natasha sighed and rubbed her temples in frustration – he was being _unreasonable_. She ignored the little voice at the back of her head that said he just nearly lost his partner in one of the most messed up ways possible and his reaction was rather tame compared to what it _could_ have been. She told that voice to _shut the fuck up_.

"We have to move eventually Clint…" she muttered looking away. Clint shrugged and continued running his hands through her hair and watched her stubbornly resist the urge to melt against his gentle touch. Sometimes he wished she would let her guard down more often and enjoy being with him – but he can't really expect her to relax when they just barely survived the last 48 hours of utter chaos.

He can try to trick her into relaxing though.

"Eventually can come later. How do you feel?" he asked seriously as his hands stilled in her hair. Natasha gave him the _you just asked a stupid question_ look. She instantly felt all the aches and pains come to the forefront of her mind and winced.

"I feel like _shit_," Natasha said flatly. She just had her entire body reconditioned with enhancers and it wasn't a pleasant feeling when your brain is literally disconnected, rewired and put back together as something else. Clint's serious look melted into a warm sympathetic one. If he was anyone else she would have taken that look as pity and punched them in the face - but it was _him_ and she eventually came to understand that there was a difference between understanding someone's pain and belittling them for it.

"What hurts?" he asked softly as he gently touched her forehead with the tips of his fingers. Natasha sighed and dropped her head against the pillow behind her.

"My head really hurts - it feels like someone took a hammer and bashed my brain into a hundred different pieces and tried to pieces back together like a puzzle. The rest of my body felt like it got run over by a train," she said with a wince when his fingers brushed against a tender section of her skull. He apologized with his eyes and rested his palm against her cheek.

"Do you know how long the pain is going to last?" he asked quietly. Natasha shifted uneasily underneath him and he could tell they were starting to enter territory she wasn't comfortable with. Frankly anything to do with her past made her uncomfortable – but he wasn't going to let her ignore it anymore.

He didn't want to be left in the dark about important things about her _ever_ again.

"Usually it's gone in a few hours after…reconditioning," she said trying not to flinch at the last word. Clint stilled and his eyes darkened.

"Is that what they called it?" he asked flatly – she could tell he was keeping the anger at a simmer instead of letting it boil over – probably for her sake.

"Something like that…" she trailed off. Clint pushed himself off of her and they both slowly sat up with her sitting back against the wall and Clint almost crouched on top of her with his knees planted on either side of her hips. They both ignored their blatantly obvious position that had the potential to be sexual if it wasn't for the intense staring match that was keeping their thoughts _very_ occupied.

"So your enhancers…" he started carefully. Natasha instantly looked away and stared a hole into his shoulder. Clint tensed – she was going to deflect – he could see it from a mile away.

Like _hell_ he was letting that happen.

"What about them?" she asked without meeting his sharp gaze. Clint narrowed his eyes and promptly grasped her chin and forced her to look up at him dead in the eye. He refused to tie toe around the issues that were going to suffocate them _and_ their partnership.

"_No games_ Natasha – we've been through a whole lot of shit the last 4 days since we started our crap assignment in Japan. We both know we need to talk about it and you are not going to brush it off as nothing because I'm not going to pretend I didn't just spend 2 days running half way around the world with my partner mentally stuck in a regressed version of herself!" he exclaimed heatedly. He was not a push over – she couldn't bully him into submission with her burning glares. He noticed a shadow cross her eyes and he knew what she was thinking.

Idiot.

"_Stop_ it Tasha. Don't blame yourself for something you have no control over. I didn't say you _are_ a problem – I'm saying we _have_ a problem," he said firmly.

"What's the difference?" Natasha asked angrily.

"There is a _big_ difference…" Clint said carefully.

"Didn't Barnes already give you the run down?" she spat. Clint blinked in confusion until he realized she could probably guess why they knocked her out. He forgot how perceptive Natasha could be – damn.

"Yes – but I'd like to hear it from the horse's mouth and I don't really feel like persuading her nicely," he said warningly. Natasha glared at him and he simply glared back.

"Then you know the basics Barton! It's a damn accelerator! I can think 10 times faster than most people! I know 19 fucking languages because I was designed to pick up skills like that! My plans during missions always sound messed up and impossible because I can see a hundred different scenarios in less than 3 seconds and sometimes only the crazy one is going to work in that moment! What more do you _want_ from me?" she growled. Clint clenched his fists in frustration and glared fiercely at her even as he instantly stored the information she just gave him in some other part of his brain to deal with later. He would deal with the specifics later. Right now he would deal with _her_.

"I want you to stop hiding all the _shit_ in your life woman!" he demanded. Natasha tensed.

"It's _my _problem_! _It's _my_ life! Deal with your _own_ life!" she said angrily. Clint felt something inside him snap.

"You _are_ my life!" he shouted instantly regretting the words the second they left his mouth.

Silence.

They both stared at each other as they breathed heavily from their short but intense shouting match.

"…what the _fuck_?" she said darkly. Clint angrily rubbed his hands over his face and quickly backpedalled before he had her running for the hills and never saw her again.

"Shit. That came out wrong," he said immediately catching the dark expression on her face. "_No -_ stop with the accusing look. We're partners Tasha. We're more than partners. Fuck the labels but you know we spend every fucking day together whether we want to or not. We go on missions together. Half the time we're on the verge of _dying _together! You _know_ I told Natalia I didn't have a personal life before you. My job _is_ my life Natasha. So whether or not we are something – and you fucking _know_ we are - you are still one insanely large part of it okay?" he said steadily lying his ass off to explain his fuck up. _Don't freak out. Don't freak out. Don't freak out. _He repeated took a sharp breath but didn't look away. Natalia would have flipped her shit by now – but she wasn't Natalia. _  
_

"I'm not stupid Barton – I'm not Natalia," Natasha said carefully. Clint took a deep calming breath. Icy Natasha was good – icy he could deal with. It was silence that usually meant he lost her.

"I never said you were. I'm just saying that you're my partner and therefore everything that happens to us on our missions or somehow affects our missions is my business too," he said trying to calm the situation before it got out of hand – he failed miserably.

"Damn it Clint you are acting like a possessive _bastard_!" she spat. Clint tensed as Barnes's stupid words rang in his ears.

'_Piece of advice - you're not going to keep her by acting like a possessive alpha male.'_

Clint was going to shoot that piece of shit for messing with his head.

"Fuck Natasha I almost _lost_ you!" Clint shouted finally losing his cool and breathing harshly as he watched Natasha's eyes darkened into dangerous pools of green.

"You don't own me…" Natasha said warningly. Clint's eyes flashed. It was never about ownership. He was not the type of man who treated women like toys. But he was a man who needed acknowledgement – and she wasn't giving it to him.

"No – you are not property Natasha. But a part of you is _mine_ just like a part of me is yours," he said passionately as he grabbed her wrist and slammed her palm against his chest while he placed his own palm against hers repeating the same action _she did first_.

_Thump. _

_Thump. _

_Thump. _

_Thump. _

_Thump. _

He stared at her dead in the eye with his message clear – _it's beating as fast as mine and you can't hide that Widow. _He watched Natasha take a sharp breath and glance down.

"You're trending in dangerous waters Barton," Natasha said staring at her hand pressed against his chest. She glanced up and tensed at what she saw. Clint dared her with his eyes to walk away from him, from them, from whatever the hell they were. He risked his _ass_ get her back – he wasn't going to let her be the one to take her away from him.

"I _like_ danger," he whispered with an edge in his voice.

"You might not like it very much after you get a real taste of it," she warned.

"You can't scare me away with clever words Natasha. I know what I want – and you better know what you want too," he said seriously as the hand not pressed against her chest scorched her skin as it trailed down her body and firmly grasped her hip. Natasha inhaled sharply and promptly beat down her body's reaction to his words – nobody else caused a fire to burn in her like he did. He wasn't the only one who could play with fire though.

"I _do_ know what I want Barton," she said carefully as she roughly dragged him forward by the front of his shirt and gave him a look that said _don't doubt_ _that_ _I can kill you I just have more restraint then Natalia_.

However unlike Natalia they both knew she had a _damn_ good shot at assassinating him _if_ she could actually pull the trigger in the right moment – but he knew she can't. Not anymore. Not after he got under her skin like no one else.

"No, I don't think you do," he said seriously as his eyes burned with unhidden intent of exactly what he wanted to do with her. He never hid his intentions and she was never blind to his heated looks.

"You don't know me well enough to make that assumption," she said narrowing her eyes. Clint laughed darkly. There was a sad, _sad_ truth in her words.

"I believe you – so when are you going to finally tell me who you are?" he asked guardedly. Natasha's eyes flashed.

"It's not that easy! I don't even _know_ who I am anymore!" she shouted. Clint angrily shook his head – that wasn't a good enough answer!

"Then _talk_ to me damn it! Tell me who you used to be! Tell me who you _want_ to be!" he demanded. He wasn't going to let her kill herself over not having a firm grasp on her identity. If he ever saw the Red Room handlers who messed with her head…he wouldn't spare _any_ of them. SHIELD can go fuck off – he would take _no prisoners_.

"I don't _want_ to talk!" she growled angrily trying to shove him away from her. Clint's slammed his palms against the wall on either side of her head and narrowed his eyes. He was done talking for now anyway.

"_Fine_!" he growled before he grabbed her by the back of her head and slammed his mouth down on hers and kissed her brutally like they both wanted since the second she woke up as Natasha 10 minutes ago. He felt her instantly snake her arms around his neck and forcefully kissed him back. It was an angry kiss but frankly they were both angry at each other, at their messed up life and at the fact that right now they couldn't deal with any of the things that they had to talk about.

Clint instantly grabbed her around the waist to pick her up and slam her body against the wall behind the bed accidentally knocking over the poor lamp that was the only thing illuminating the room. They both pulled apart gasping for breath and Clint blindly groped the table beside them and righted the fallen lamp so that it didn't crash to the floor and start a fire.

"So smooth," she tried to say sarcastically but her sarcasm was lost in the breathless tone of her voice. She didn't even have enough time to take another deep breath before he spun around, grabbed her face in his hands and smashed their lips together all over again. It wasn't pretty at all – but their life in general wasn't pretty.

"Stop _complaining_!" he growled against her lips. Natasha rolled her eyes and buried her hands in his hair as he proceeded to put his money where his mouth is and stole her words away with his talent lips. They had a ton of shit to talk about but right now she was really sick of talking to him and simply gripped his hair and forced him to move closer. He suddenly pulled away from her lips and started pressing hot wet kisses down her face and along her neck. For once Natasha didn't care that she couldn't think straight. She was _tired_ of thinking.

"Barton you are such-"

"Don't call me that!" he growled instantly pulling back and cutting her off. Natasha tensed as she tried to catch her breath. He was like a raging _storm_. She stared at him in confusion.

"Call you what? Your _own_ fucking name?" she asked in disbelief. Clint instantly shook his head and grabbed her face to make sure she was looking right at him.

"My name is _Clint_ – especially when I have you pinned to a wall and you are seconds away from screaming my name – you're going to scream the _right_ one," he growled low in his throat. He was _sick_ of hearing his last name on her lips. He was sick of pretending like he didn't want to take her right this moment – against a wall of her ex-partner's cabin be _damned_. Natasha eyes flashed.

"I don't scream for _anyone_ Clint," Natasha said dangerously. Clint narrowed his eyes and braced his forearms against the wall trapping her head between his arms and forcing her to stare at him and see the heat burning in his eyes and his desire pulsing through the grip on her waist. He leaned forward and watched her pupils dilate because of _him_ – he was going to make sure she only _ever_ had this reaction because of him. Fuck being possessive.

The electricity crackling between them was _audible_.

"I can make you scream," he breathed in her ear. Natasha ignored the heat that pooled in her stomach and grabbed his hair to pull him down so she could reach _his_ ear.

"I can make you scream too," she whispered with a very _different_ meaning. Clint chuckled darkly and before she could react he slipped his hand past her waistband, skimmed her inner thigh and promptly grabbed the knife strapped to her leg. He smirked at her as she lost her breath for a moment before he skillful pulled the weapon out of its sheath and stabbed the wall with her own knife 2 centimeters from her ear. Natasha's gasp was inaudible but he still saw it.

"Not that type of screaming sweetheart," he murmured as he kissed her cheek and carefully watched her eyes as they darkened like he hoped they would. He doubted she was scared of him. She had been an assassin for years before he even made his first kill.

She was turned on. Adrenaline junkie indeed. She took a deep breath and tried to find her voice.

"I dare you to try to make me scream Clint," Natasha whispered as she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck and forced him to press his forehead against hers. He opened his mouth to reply when something stopped him.

They both tensed as they heard the lightest creak in the floorboard in the room down the hall.

Someone was here.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: THAT WAS THE MEANEST CLIFF HANGER I EVER WROTE IN MY LIFE! LMAO on the verge of getting laid and they got cockblocked by an unknown enemy AHAHAHAHA! I'm dying here – but come on – I don't write smut further then foreplay so you had to expect me to stop that craziness somehow right? What better way to stop it then with plot? **

**And also who the hell turns the act of kissing into a vicious fight? **

**That honour goes to Clintasha! Damn. I loved Natalia…but there is a reason he prefers Natasha. Hell I would prefer her too. She is just so intense about everything. I bet you all forgot why he liked Tasha more right? Natalia is like an innocent assassin compared to Natasha. **

**Is anyone else feeling a little hot in here? ;) **


	77. Chapter 77

**I dare you **

**A/N: You'll love this chapter even if there is no sexy clintasha - it's so sad it's funny. **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 77**

Clint and Natasha instantly locked eyes and their gaze hardened and the emotions they were originally letting through got locked away to deal with later. Hawkeye and Black Widow instantly took over.

"Can you fight?" Clint whispered under his breath as he yanked her knife out of the wall and pressed it back into her hand. She gave him a dry look as she gripped the handle tightly in her hand. He was the only one she would ever let disarm her like he did - anyone else she would have killed them on the spot.

"I don't need a weapon to kill the bastard that just ruined my night," she said dead seriously as she tapped the razor sharp edge of her knife against his cheek and the lightest red line appeared on his face and bled slightly due to her assault.

"Oops," she whispered. Clint narrowed his eyes as he felt the light sting on his cheek. He would be lying if he said he found it disturbing. He wasn't going to tell her that it turned him on either though - he had to keep some male pride right?

"You're evil," he muttered. Natasha snickered - that sound should be illegal because it did dirty things to his stomach. Shit.

"You're the one who likes it," she said with a shrug as she tapped him on the shoulder in a message to let her down from the wall. He grumbled about _sadist partners insurance_ as he stepped back and dropped her to the ground. Natasha paused as she listened to his muttering and stared a hole into the ground. She felt him shift closer and didn't resist when he tugged on her chin and forced her to look up at him.

"I still don't care that you have that problem," he said firmly reading her thoughts like she was an open book. Natasha searched his eyes but found no lies. He really _wasn't_ normal...or sane. Take your pick.

"You should," she muttered. Clint shook his head.

"I bet 1 year of our shit salary it's a side effect of your enhancers," he said seriously. Natasha took a deep breath.

"You'd win," she said with a sigh.

They heard another creak and Clint instantly crouched to pick up his fallen gun off the floor. They both inched closer to the door and then the last thing they expected was the person to actually _speak_.

"If you two are finally done shamelessly fraternizing while I have been worrying my ass off in New York I'd like to have a fully clothed conversation with you!" a familiar annoyed voice called out from behind the door. Clint nearly fell flat on his face and Natasha's face went blank as she stared blankly at the door in front of them.

"_Coulson_?" Clint asked in disbelief. Natasha narrowed her eyes and promptly grabbed Barton by the collar of his shirt before he could open the door and confirm it was their handler coming to kick their ass. He let her drag him back and glanced at her careful expression.

"It could be a trap Barton - it could be a voice altering device…." Natasha said carefully. It was a stretch - but not impossible. Clint considered her words of a moment until he decided what the hell did they really have to lose? Especially when they heard the single set of footsteps stop in front of their door and tap on the ground impatiently.

"It's just one person Tasha. Even if it's not Coulson we can take him," Clint said quietly. He felt her grip on his shirt loosen as she considered his words. After a second she dropped her hand completely and sighed.

"Let's find out," she said tiredly gesturing for him to open the door. Clint nodded and steeled his nerves. He took a deep breath and promptly kicked open the door with his boot and had his gun ready to fire.

"Why have you been ignoring my calls for 8 god damn hours Barton?" an _angry_ looking Phil Coulson in his signature pristine black suit _demanded_ on the other side of the doorway.

Clint blinked and instantly lowered his gun. Natasha huffed and irritably looked away.

"Okay maybe I was wrong...," Clint heard her grumble from behind him - he thinks her assassin pride was a bit wounded too. She overestimated. Clint glanced back at his handler giving them the death stare. He gulped. Coulson scared the shit out of him.

"We were kind of busy Coulson..." Clint started to explain but froze when Coulson's angry expression morphed into a disgusted look. Uh oh.

"Doing _what_?" Coulson asked threateningly. Clint gaped when he realized what everything looked like to his handler. Oh shit.

"Not that! Coulson we weren't having - actually that is kind of a lie but - but _holy shit_ this is screwed up! No! Not the entire 8 hours! God damn it I was losing my mind for the past few hours! She just woke up as Natasha like 10 minutes ago!" Clint defended himself in alarm. Coulson just glared at him.

"And I walk in hearing sounds that result in stuff like _that_?" Coulson asked heatedly as he pointed at the colourful hickeys displayed on Natasha's neck. Natasha instantly scowled at Clint because those were _his_ fault while he just sputtered gracelessly. He wasn't planning on anyone seeing her for at least the next 10 hours! When it was obvious Clint was currently incapable of words Natasha took over for him.

"Coulson...you have shit timing," Natasha deadpanned as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Getting caught in the dirty act by your handler was downright _depressing_ for covert agents. At least if he was the enemy they could kill him and get back to business - but apparently that was no longer an option.

"At least you have clothes on - small mercies," Coulson said pinching the bridge of his nose as well. Clint scowled at him - of all the times he could have shown up...

"We didn't even _get_ that far," Clint muttered darkly. Natasha's eye twitched and she promptly whacked him across the back of his head and nearly caused the poor archer to kiss the floor.

"Who said we were going anywhere?" she hissed. Clint promptly righted himself and locked eyes with her. He gave her a smoldering look that she felt instantly start a burning feeling in her body. Shit. She hated him.

"Oh we were definitely going somewhere, and trust me - you weren't saying no Tasha," he said taking a dangerous step towards her. Natasha instantly stepped back.

"I'm going to cut your balls off if your ego gets any bigger Barton," she growled as she held her sharp knife in front of her. Clint laughed and walked right into her knife.

"You're bluffing Romanoff - you like my balls too much," Clint said flashing her a cocky smirk. Natasha scowled and instantly smacked his hand away with the back of her knife before he could make a grab at her. Coulson stared at them in disbelief - _this_ is what they were like outside of SHIELD? What the fuck?

"_Stop_ with the innuendo - I'm right here damn it! I really don't want to watch illegal fraternization in action Barton – _please_ be professional at least in front of me," Coulson said irritably. Clint reluctantly broke his smirking/glaring match with his flustered partner and glared at him.

"We successfully finished our mission so technically we are on our own time and not strictly partners on an assignment right now so with all due respect Phil– _piss off_," Clint growled. He ruined his moment - Clint has never felt more cheated in his _life_!

"But _I'm_ still on duty so clean up your act and don't call me Phil when I'm about to grill your ass," Coulson said stiffly. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"Phil you _are_ an ass," Clint said irritably while using his first name just to spite their handler. Coulson narrowed his eyes.

"Barton...," he warned.

"Phil...," Clint mimicked his warning tone. Coulson finally snapped.

"Damn it Clint do you not respect me at all?" he shouted. Clint faltered slightly but stood his ground.

"I _do_ respect you...just not right now," Clint muttered.

"What type of conditional respect is _that_?" Coulson asked in disbelief. Clint clenched his hands into fists and took a sharp breath to calm himself. Calming thoughts Barton. Think kittens and baseball caps - he froze when a mental image of Natasha wearing his favourite baseball cap flashed across his mind - _aw fuck not the baseball caps! Forget the baseballs caps!_

"It's not conditional - I'm just pissed," Clint muttered. Coulson glared at him.

"Just because you're pissed doesn't give you the right to act like a downright bastard Clint," Coulson said angrily. Clint threw his hands up and huffed in frustration. To hell with calming thoughts!

"When am I not a bastard? Everyone thinks I'm a heartless bastard at SHIELD! I'm one of the few agents who were actually recruited as a contract assassin. I did the dirty undesirable mission assassinations and excelled when all others failed - so that means I must have no conscience right? People like me and Natasha get stuck doing the shit missions no one else wants to do because they're all too damn proud to get their hands dirty!" Clint spat viciously. Coulson tensed.

"That's not true Barton..." Coulson said narrowing his eyes. Clint furiously shook his head.

"_Yes it is_ – and you _know_ Coulson! You've been here since the start! Did you ever wonder why I liked working by myself? Did you ever wonder why I didn't take any partners for 5 damn _years_? Nobody wanted to even be in the same _room_ as me in the beginning. I was the loose cannon. I was the unstable assassin with blood on his hands. I was the scum on SHIELD's fucking boot and the only reason no one said anything to my face was because they were scared I'd _kill_ them!" Clint shouted. He had more restraint then people gave him credit for. Even when he was fighting his own suicidal tendencies he was never unstable enough to actually shoot a fellow agent. Nobody even gave the time of _day_.

"Clint nobody thinks that anymore…," Coulson said carefully. Everyone respected Hawkeye. Everyone looked up to him at SHIELD. Everyone wanted to work with him now. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"_When_ Coulson? When did I get that respect? When did agents start asking to go on missions with me? When did the council stop watching my every move? When did Fury finally stop looking at me like I was going to stab him in the back? Tell me Coulson!" Clint demanded. Coulson took a sharp breath but remained adamantly silent. He knew why – he just didn't want to say it. "After they all realized I had the single _best_ sniper shot in the organization – right? _Right_?" Clint said darkly.

Silence.

They both knew Barton was dead right.

"That's not respect," Clint whispered in anger. Coulson took a steady breath and finally spoke.

"Don't make the whole world your enemy Clint. There are people out there who respect you as a person too – not just as an assassin with one of the best aims in the world," Coulson said seriously. Clint was much more than just an uncanny killer shot. He wasn't a machine – but sometimes most people forgot that there was a person behind the perfect hit count on his record. When most agents thought of Hawkeye they still stared in awe at him nearly perfect success rate. It took him 5 years to finally meet the person who had a higher kill count then him. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"I can count those people on one hand Coulson – and two of them are standing in this room," Clint said steadily.

"Barton..." a different voice cut into their agent vs. handler fight. Clint clenched his jaw.

"Tasha, tell him he is being such a lying hypocrit...Natasha?" Clint said in confusion as he turned around and didn't see his partner anywhere. She had been too quiet during his shouting match with Coulson – usually she was just as vocal as him. He heard someone inhale a shaky breath and instantly glanced down.

"Tasha?" Clint said in alarm as he found her sitting on the ground wincing as she held her head – clearly in pain. He instantly dropped to his knees in front of his partner and gently gripped her shoulders.

"Hey - hey are you okay?" Clint asked worriedly while instantly forgetting about his beef with their handler. She gritted her teeth before she instantly slummed forward but he caught her easily.

"Headache's really bad - just need a minute," Natasha muttered against his shoulder.

"You can have more than a minute," he said softly as he ran his hand through her hair. Natasha's eyes darkened.

"Stop treating me like I'm a child!" she growled but instantly regretted it when it caused her to nearly black out from the pain. Clint carefully wrapped one arm around her waist to steady her and held her more firmly.

"Stop acting like a stubborn child," he chided quietly. Natasha simply ignored him after that and just closed her eyes as she took several deep painful breaths. Clint watched her soldier through whatever was messing with her system with concern. Natasha's pain tolerance was insanely high - almost 10 times higher than his own.

She must feel like she is literally dying on the inside to show any reaction at all. Clint's eyes softened as she gripped his shirt in her fist and put nearly all her weight on him as she leaned against his shoulder. He didn't mind.

"_Everyone_ thinks you're a bastard eh?" Coulson's calm voice floated into their little bubble. Natasha tried to snort at the irony but winced when the action made her headache flare to unbearable amounts of pain.

"Hey don't talk for a few minutes okay?" Clint said softly touching her face and glancing up at their concerned looking handler. Coulson might bitch at them like an old granny but at the end of the day Clint knows he would never sell them out simply because he _cares_ about them.

Not many people took the time to care about killers.

"Is this because of the enhancers you told me about?" Coulson asked quietly as he dropped his suitcase onto the floor and took a seat on the ground beside his two agents. Clint continued to run his hair through her hair and frowned.

"I don't know - I think it might be because of changes in her brain chemistry," Clint said carefully.

"Actually...we're usually supposed to have this nasty protein and carbohydrate drink after we wake up...," Natasha muttered into his shoulder. Clint pulled back and _stared_ at her.

"Are you saying you're just severely malnourished and dehydrated?" he asked incredulously. Natasha coughed uneasily - that was the closest to embarrassed he _ever_ saw her.

"Probably...?" she said faintly. Clint just looked alarmed.

"Are you suicidal Natasha?" Clint demanded. Natasha tensed.

"No!" she said angrily. _Not more then you know we all are._ She left unspoken but it burned in her eyes. He understood what she meant and left that alone.

"Then why didn't you tell me?" he asked angrily. Natasha huffed and looked away.

"We were _busy_!" she muttered gesturing between the two of them. Clint _gaped_ at her.

"Who cares? We were just having a pissing contest!" he growled. Natasha muttered something about _pissing contest my ass_.

"And yet he was _so_ angry at me for interrupting said pissing contest," Coulson muttered beside them as he leaned his head back against the bed. Clint's eyes darkened.

"Shut up Phil. Let's takes this to the kitchen," Clint said instantly hooking an arm under her knees and lifted her off the ground as he stood up. Natasha froze and stared at him and what he just did.

He.

Was.

_Carrying_.

Her.

WHAT THE FUCK?

"Put. Me. _Down_," Natasha said with a dangerous look in her eyes. She was not a damsel in distress. She refused to be treated like one. _She was going to kill him_.

"No," Clint said firmly. Natasha instantly grabbed the gun out of his back pocket and aimed it at his face.

"I'm going to shoot you," she threatened. Clint sighed. He knew he was hurting her self-reliant assassin pride but honestly he had no choice at the moment.

"I bet you wish you actually could," he said quietly ignoring the gun she held to his cheek and carried her down the hall.

"You coming Coulson?" he called over his shoulder without looking back. Coulson shook his head as he followed after them.

They were _crazy_.

Clint shoved open the door leading into Barnes rather laughably tiny kitchen and gave the angry assassin in his arms a pointed look.

"Drop the gun Tasha," he said calmly. Natasha stared at the weapon in her hand for a long, _long_ moment – much longer then Clint should be comfortable with but he waited anyway - before she _finally_ tossed it over his shoulder and stubbornly avoided his eyes.

But she dropped the gun.

That meant _everything_.

"I'm fine – I have legs Barton. I can walk," Natasha muttered. Clint laughed.

"If you could _really_ walk…you would have removed yourself from my arms 2 minutes ago," Clint said frankly. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"If you let me I could do it _now_!" she growled. She was being typically uncooperative. Clint decided to try a different approach.

"Don't you like being in my arms Tasha?" he said softly. Natasha froze as his tone instantly switched to the one he uses when he was being intimate and it gave her whiplash. She glanced up at his eyes and narrowed her own when she saw something off. Her eyes flashed when she realized he was _acting_.

"Fuck you bastard stop _distracting_ me!" Natasha growled and she roughly smacked him across the face with her hand. How _dare_ he talk to her like that when it was fake? Clint instantly broke character and rolled his eyes before he gracelessly dropped her onto the kitchen table.

"It was worth a shot," he muttered as he spun around to yank open the tiny fridge door. He scanned the contents and promptly pulled out a yogurt container. He pulled open a drawer and obtained a spoon to go with it. He turned back towards his scowling partner and shoved the cup into one hand and the spoon into the other.

"Eat it," he demanded. Natasha scoffed.

"Yes father," she muttered sarcastically. Clint made a disgusted face.

"That is just _sick_ Tasha," he said shaking his head in disbelief.

"_You're_ sick," she said nastily as she glared at the yogurt in her hand. Clint instantly cupped her face between his palms and forced her to look up at him.

"_Please_ stop fighting me and eat the yogurt," he said quietly staring at her dead in the eye. Natasha stared back and they both knew his request was genuine this time. No acting.

Clint knew he won when she silently stabbed her spoon into the yogurt cup and actually _ate_ the damn thing.

"I knew you two were good actors…but this is just _insane_," Coulson muttered making his presence known. They were almost nearly different people outside of the base. Clint laughed out loud and gave Natasha and brilliant smile which she just returned with a – _fuck you_ look.

She instantly looked away when his smoldering eyes said – _I intend to. _

"Be honoured you get to see us without masks Phil," Clint said frankly glancing at their flustered handler. A blob of yogurt promptly smacked him right in the center of his eyes. Clint blinked and whipped his head back to scowl at his partner.

"Speak for yourself Barton," she said with a shrug as she innocently stuck the spoon in her mouth. Clint stared at her.

The Black Widow was anything but innocent.

"Okay, the honour of seeing us without _most_ of our masks," Clint amended as he wiped the yogurt off his face and stared at it for a second with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Natasha paused and narrowed her own – she knew that look.

"Oh it's one hell of an honour!" Coulson said sarcastically from behind them.

"It should be!" Clint said with a grin before he promptly highly fived Natasha's face with the same yogurt she attacked him with.

SPLAT!

Dead silence. Nobody moved except for Clint as he dug his own grave and thoroughly smeared the yogurt all over her face.

He had a death wish.

He really did.

He waited silently with just a tiny bit of apprehension as he watched Natasha come to terms with the fact that he had just made her face look like someone threw up yogurt on her.

"You have balls of steel Barton…," Natasha said darkly as she slowly wiped the yogurt from her face but did nothing else. She had begrudging respect for the first man to ever do something that _stupid_ and actually think he can live to tell the tale. Clint laughed in relief and planted his hands on either side of her waist before he leaned into her and brushed his lips against her ear.

"I'd lick it off of you inch by inch but I wouldn't want to give poor Coulson a heart attack," Clint whispered in her ear. Natasha inhaled a sharp breath and instantly glanced over his shoulder to see the pained expression on Coulson's face.

"I'd really appreciate it if you stopped pretending I can't hear whispers," Coulson groaned. Clint sighed. Ruined his fun.

"Not my fault you have super hearing," Clint grumbled as he pulled away from her. Natasha rolled her eyes and continued to eat what was left of her yogurt – her gaze darkened. She actually really _was_ practically starving because of the enhancer reconditioning. She was pretty sure she might end up killing herself without Barton around to remind her to do normal people things like eating and sleeping. Who needs food and rest anyway?

"So Coulson – how the hell did you find us?" Clint asked seriously as he crossed his arms and leaned against the table beside Natasha – watching out of the corner of his eye to make sure she was actually eating while they talked. Coulson finally lost the uncomfortable look on his face and suddenly smirked.

"Won't you like to know Barton," he said mysterious smile. Clint scoffed.

"Cut the crap or I'll throw you outside and let the wolves eat you," he threatened. Natasha snorted.

"We aren't far enough north of Moscow for real wild wolves Barton," she said frankly killing his threat. Clint paused and seriously considered her words for a moment.

"…I'm going to pretend you don't know that from _disturbing_ experience and continue. Talk Coulson," Clint said seriously. Coulson sighed. He couldn't even have his own fun getting one over agent Barton.

"There is a GPS tracker in the jet keys," Coulson said with a shrug. It wasn't that epic. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"Are there trackers on all SHIELD transport equipment?" he asked suspiciously. Coulson nodded and fished his phone out of his pocket to show him his signal. Clint pulled the keys out of his _own_ pocket and stared at them.

"Who has access to this?" he asked carefully.

"Just me, Fury and Hill. No one else knows about the trackers. They are for safety precautions," Coulson said seriously. Clint relaxed slightly.

"Still, I'm going to be carrying a frequency scrambler for the rest of my life now," Clint muttered tossing the keys onto the table beside Natasha. She warily glanced at the bugged keys but made no comment – she fully agreed with him.

"Why else are you here Coulson? It must have taken you 8 hours to fly here. You could have waited until I called you or we came back," Clint said slowly. Coulson's expression darkened.

"I have an overdue conversation I need to have with you – outside of SHIELD and far away from prying ears. Nothing is farther then a remote safe house in Russia," Coulson said dryly – but Clint saw the double meaning in his eyes.

"About what?" he asked slowly – but he already knew. He always knew they were bound to have this conversation. Coulson shrugged.

"Important things," he said vaguely as he risked a glance at agent Romanoff's silent form.

Natasha took one look between the long term friends having a silent staring match and promptly stood up – she wasn't going to stick around when they clearly wanted to have a conversation without her around.

"I'm going to take a shower to wipe this shit off my face," she said curtly before she spun around and disappeared through the doorway before either Clint or Coulson could say a word. They both stared at the empty doorway for a few minutes until they heard the shower water turn on and add a rushing sound in the silence in the little makeshift kitchen. When Coulson was relatively certain Romanoff was out of ear shot he gave Clint a pointed look which Clint returned with a guarded one of his own.

"Why her?" Coulson asked cutting straight to the point. Clint inhaled deeply through his nose and told himself to stay calm because if he couldn't civilly converse with his oldest friend about a matter they seriously disagreed on he was a pathetic negotiator.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N; We never really had that epic Clint and Coulson conversation about his relationship with Natasha did we? And boy is this an epic showdown – especially after that last one about Clint's harsh past even at SHIELD. **

**A/N 2: haha and poor Coulson! You don't understand how lucky you are to see clintasha without masks when no one else at SHIELD **_**ever**_** will! So damn lucky! Nad only because he earned it when he saved their lives and shot Castro. **


	78. Chapter 78

**I dare you **

**A/N: IMPORTANT chapter :) **

**Chapter 78 **

Clint took a deep breath and answered Coulson's extremely direct question. _Why her?_

"There is no why – it just happened. Mostly likely because of constant exposure," Clint said slowly trying to be as truthful as possible. He needed Phil to understand. Coulson crinkled his brow – the fact is he _didn't_ understand.

"There are risks - severe risks. You can lose your job Clint," he said seriously. Clint scoffed. As if he wasn't very aware of that fact.

"You don't think I knew that even before we started this?" Clint said with a laugh as he shook his head. Coulson frowned. He wasn't getting it.

"Maybe you knew that, but did you know she'd be put back on the hit list if you both got fired?" he said carefully. Clint stilled and instantly locked Coulson into a tense staring match to be sure he wasn't shitting with him. Coulson calmly stared back - he was telling the truth. Clint's eyes fell when he got his answer and he ran an uneasy hand through his hair.

"No. I didn't know that," he said quietly. Coulson took a steady breath.

"She hasn't been an agent for even a year yet - if your service gets terminated some other agent will be dispatched...to eliminate her," he said carefully. Clint closed his eyes and gripped the edge of the table as he took several deep breaths.

"Coulson...if they send someone after her...you know I'm going to have to kill them right?" Clint said calmly. The tension in the tiny kitchen instantly skyrocketed. Neither of them were stupid enough to not see how that was board line mutiny.

"Even if they are one of our colleagues?" Coulson asked steadily. Clint winced.

"Maybe kill is a bit much. More like thoroughly dissuade and disable," he amended. He wasn't going to become a double-crossing backstabber for her - but he would protect her - even if she didn't need it.

"Why are you considering insubordination Clint? Why are you doing this?" Coulson asked banging the table with his fist in frustration. Clint took another calming breath. He could tell he was talking to Phil his friend - not Coulson his handler. So he gave him the truth. He rarely gave the truth – and aside from the man sitting in front of him no one else in the world would _ever_ hear about what went on between him and his partner.

"She's worth everything," he said quietly. Coulson paused as he truly absorbed his heavy words. Barton didn't make bold statements like that often. Frankly all the shocking decisions he ever made in the last 5 years were all related to _her_.

"Where do your loyalties truly lie Clint? Because it's clearly not with SHIELD," Coulson said seriously. Coulson was a smart man – he wasn't blinded by national patriotism or other bullshit intelligence agencies like to spew. He understood the system – and then he also understood _reality_.

Agents lived in reality.

Coulson locked eyes with Clint and they were both silent for several minutes before Clint took a deep breath.

"With myself…with her…and with you. That's it," he said carefully. He wasn't loyal to anyone else. Coulson stared at his agent and he stared back. He finally sighed. He can't say he didn't know that. Coulson took a seat at the table and motioned for Barton to do the same. Clint slowly sat down across from his handler and waited for him to speak. Coulson ran a hand over his face and took a deep breath.

"What's the attraction Clint?" he asked tiredly. Clint blinked. Huh?

"You can't be a straight man and say Natasha is not an attractive woman Coulson," Clint deadpanned. Coulson scowled at him.

"I know agent Romanoff has physical appeal Barton. I'm not blind. But you've never looked twice at women who were frankly even _more_ beautiful than Romanoff. You're not that shallow regardless of what shit you like to spew about getting around when at SHIELD. You rarely had any women outside of SHIELD over the last 5 years – and frankly you've never even look at our female agents like they have a gender when you work with them. So what's the pull?" Coulson asked carefully. He wanted answers – _real_ answers. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"Okay first of all Natasha is the sexiest woman I've ever met Coulson," he said seriously - _too_ seriously. Coulson shook his head sadly.

"Biased," he said with a sigh. Barton had it _bad_.

"Not biased," Clint muttered weakly.

"Can you even look at other women anymore?" Coulson asked blankly. Clint scowled at him.

"I can still be around other women Coulson - I'm not selectively blind. You mean flirting right? I can still _do_ it – I have to. It's part of our job. But outside of mission parameters and targets? She would kill me – _very_ _literally_," Clint said frankly. He sure wasn't the only one prone to jealousy in this relationship.

"But do you ever _want_ to?" Coulson pressed. Clint furrowed his brow.

"No..." he said slowly. Why would he when he had her? Coulson sighed when he saw the genuine confusion on his agent's face. Damn he was whipped. Coulson tiredly rubbed his forehead.

"What are you going to do when you get your heart broken Clint?" Coulson asked quietly. Clint stiffened. Natasha wasn't going to break his heart – he wouldn't let her.

"Can't break if you don't open it in the first place," Clint muttered. Coulson _stared_ at him.

"She's not in this for love is she?" Coulson said slowly. Clint stared a hole into the table - his silence was more than confirmation enough. Coulson sighed and rubbed his temples - this was like extremely unnecessary drama in his life. He sighed tiredly.

"But _you_ are Clint. You always put your heart into everything. You probably lied to her about what you wanted in this messed up relationship otherwise we both know she would have said hell no and resigned on the spot. You're _not_ like her," Coulson said quietly. He knew his agents very well and he knew Clint Barton better than the man knew himself sometimes. Clint took a deep breath and looked up to lock eyes with the closest person he had to a best friend.

"I _know_ she's well on her way to feeling it too - she's just never going to say it," Clint said finally. He knows Natasha will never admit anything. He accepted that a long time ago. If that was the only price he had to pay to be with her he could deal with it - probably. Coulson watched Clint put on a brave face as he faced the ugly truth of his shitty situation.

Either he was a fool…or he was finally growing up.

Coulson would always consider him a fool.

"You sure know how to pick them Clint," he said warily giving him a small smile that said he was done harping on him for fraternizing on the job. Clint smiled back weakly.

"I always like a challenge," he said with a sad laugh. Coulson rolled his eyes. Clint watched his friend slowly come to accept the biggest decision he ever made in his life. It felt really good. _Really_ good. He didn't realized the weight that was sitting on his chest the longer he kept him and Natasha a secret. Having Coulson on his side made everything _that_ much better.

"Do you like her?" Clint asked suddenly. Coulson furrowed his brow at the abrupt question.

"What?" he asked in confusion. Clint leaned forward with his elbowed resting against the table and propped his face against his fists.

"Do. You. Like. Her?" he asked slowly. Coulson blinked.

"She's an assassin Clint," Coulson said slowly. Clint scoffed.

"_I'm_ an assassin!" he exclaimed. Coulson shook his head.

"I didn't actually think you would fall for one though," Coulson muttered. Clint paused.

"…why not?" he asked cautiously.

"Most people working in this field are of the dominant personality type. Usually you'd end up killing each other if you ever attempted a relationship. I've seen it happened before – it's not a pretty sight Barton. Being with a civilian is a lot easier than assassins as well," Coulson said with a shrug. Most agents liked non-SHIELD related relationships – clearly Barton was an exception.

"You didn't answer my question Phil. You're avoiding it," Clint said firmly getting back on track. Coulson shifted in his seat and finally sighed.

"Do you _really_ care what I think?" Coulson asked slowly. Clint gave him a serious look.

"Yes," he said honestly. He didn't care about most people's opinions – but he cared deeply of a few. Coulson sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Would my answer change your decision to risk your necks for this relationship?" Coulson asked carefully. Clint paused.

"…no," he said firmly. No matter _what_ Coulson did he was never going to let her go. Coulson sighed – he already knew that answer. He decided he should just give Clint the truth.

"I _do_ like her Clint. She's a good agent. She keeps you alive during missions. As long as she doesn't hurt you – I'll continue to like her," he said warily. He was going to give Natasha Romanoff the benefit of the doubt.

"You didn't approve before - what changed your mind?" Clint pressed. Coulson shifted under Barton's sharp sniper eyes and struggled to find the right words but and finally just decided to say the truth as simply as possible – no veiled messages.

"Romanoff…She…she makes you happy Clint – so much happier than I've ever seen you," Coulson said finally glancing up at his good friend and giving him a meaningful look. Clint felt a certain emotion rise in his chest and nearly suffocate him.

"She _does_," he said softly. She drove him _crazy_ – but it was a good kind of crazy. It was the type of crazy he always wanted.

"I know. You've been unhappy for a long time Clint. You deserve to be happy now," Coulson said quietly. Clint took a shaky breath as he watched Coulson blinked the deep emotions out of his eyes.

He had his blessings.

He _finally_ had Coulson's blessings.

If he had nothing else to solidify his relationship with Natasha – his best friend's blessings would carry him through a hundred difficult missions no matter _how_ many people disapproved of them.

They sat in companionable silence for several minutes – until Coulson could no longer keep his curiosity from getting the better of him.

"So…how _do_ you deal with the clashing personality types?" he asked curiously.

Clint groaned. Oh dear god.

_Oh if he only knew the shit they dealt with on a daily basis._

"Don't ask questions like that Coulson. There are things about our relationship you really don't want to know," Clint said vaguely. He was never going to tell his handler that Natasha was the dominant one in their relationship…which technically made him the _other_ thing. Shudder. He didn't _really_ mind – but he still had one massive male pride to nurture in secret when Natasha wasn't around to kick it in the stomach. He liked to pretend to appear like he wore the pants in this partnership to the outside world thank you very much. Besides, at the end of the day he knew he was the real one in charge and responsible for their team – she just liked to always keep him on his toes. She challenged everything he did, everything he said and every decision he made while on their missions. She made him work hard to be a better agent.

He really didn't mind.

.

..

.

.

.

.

.

10 minutes later.

"So I'm going to go get my car which I left a few miles down the road," Coulson said getting up and heading towards the door.

"Constant vigilance eh?" Clint said with a grin. Coulson rolled his eyes.

"Shut up - you read too many comic books," he muttered as he grabbed the doorknob and stepped outside.

"Comic books are fun - they should write one about _me_," Clint said with a shit eating grin. Coulson sighed. Arrogant ass.

"Yeah it should be called the _amazing Hawkeye the asshole_. Like hell someone is going to write a comic book about _you_. You're ego never ceases to amaze me Barton," he said dryly before he spun around and started his long trek down the dirt road - he needed to take a few minutes to clear his head about the crazy amount of info overload he just received from his top two agents in the last half hour. Coulson narrowed his eyes. He didn't realize walking into that cabin how serious they really were. That changed _everything_. That meant it wasn't a passing fancy - they're going to be dealing with this for a long time. That meant he had a lot of work to do to make sure SHIELD never got whiff of this otherwise they were going to lose two of the best assassins in the world and he really didn't want to force them to become an enemy. It was always better if SHIELD was kept in the dark about certain things.

Clint watched his handler disappeared around the corner and slowly closed the door. He took a deep breath.

"You can come out now Natasha," Clint said quietly staring at the wooden door. He instant felt her presence behind him and wondered where exactly she was hiding in the first place.

"How did you know I was here?" she asked actually sounding a little bit put out. Clint shook his head.

"I didn't – don't worry you were undetectable as always. I just _know_ you," he said turning around and coming face to face with a freshly showered Natasha who smelled like soap, rain water and something distinctly _her_. She stared at him with a suspicious look but took his words at face value.

"How much did you hear?" Clint asked quietly. He was paying attention to the water sounds and knew she had actually given them real privacy for at least the first 20 minutes of their conversation – but she had sneaked her way downstairs somewhere in the last 10 – and he hoped to god it was after the time they were talking about the real depth of his feelings. He couldn't deal with her denial on top of everything else right now.

He really didn't know if he could lie well enough if she asked him what exactly he felt for her.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Oh how evil I am. Cliffhangers are getting old haha – but there is always so much intense stuff going on in the story it's not always my fault! BUT I wrote the next chapter so I'm not that evil. I'll post tomorrow! **

**Review and let me know if I did the Clint and Coulson dynamic right! **

**Thank you for reading this long, **_**long**_** Clintasha story. We are almost done I dare you. I think I have 3 more missions left before we reach the end. It's been a really nice time writing and having you guys support my work! Thank you so much! I'll miss you guys when it's over! Until then let's have some fun! **

**- Shadows (ontherun)  
**

******P.S. What has been your favourite missions so far? **


	79. Chapter 79

**I dare you **

**A/N: Fun chapter! **

**Chapter 79 **

Natasha shifted from one foot to the other and rubbed her left arm with her right hand.

"Around the part...when he said...that I make you happy," she muttered reluctantly. Clint raised an eyebrow at her uncharacteristic hesitant look.

A shy Natasha was unheard of – but she was definitely being shy. If he pointed it out he was sure she would stab him.

"Okay," he said simply before he took a step forward and swiftly pulled her into his arms and wrapped her into a tight bone crushing embrace. He felt his heart clench when she not only let him hug her tightly but she even wrapped her arms around his neck and slowly _hugged him back_. Natasha rarely hugs him back. They were making nice _snail pace_ progress. He leaned his cheek against her head and gently ran his hands through her hair. She leaned her forehead against his warm chest and closed her eyes as she enjoyed his touch and closeness. It was a nice feeling being wrapped around by someone who oozed security and trust. It was nice knowing he wanted her - but he wanted everything - the good _and_ the bad. She never met someone who wanted all of her. She let him hear her soft sigh in pleasure when he ran his hand down her back and rubbed soothing circles to relax her tense muscles.

"Do I make _you_ happy Tasha?" he asked quietly into her hair. Natasha stilled in his arms. He held her tighter and waited to hear what she would say.

"I can't...I don't really know what happiness is supposed to feel like Clint..." she said carefully. She didn't want to hurt his feelings - but she didn't want to lie to his face either.

"It's supposed to be this nice warm feeling you get when you're around someone you genuinely like," he said with a wary smile.

"I really _don't_ like you sometimes..." she said dryly. He chuckled.

"Okay fine - someone you're fond of. You can still be fond of me even if I royally piss you off," he amended. Her silence made him wary so he pulled back and gently pressed his forehead against hers.

"Do you feel it Tasha?" he whispered softly. He watched the lightest shade of red colour her cheeks and blinked.

She was blushing. Scratch that - _she was letting him see it. _He thinks he might die of happiness – but he needed to hear her say she was happy too.

"I feel _something_," she muttered as she glanced away. He gently tapped her cheek and forced her eyes back to his.

"But is it different than what you feel around other people?" he pressed. Natasha shifted in his arms - but she didn't pull away.

"Clint...I feel next to nothing except maybe annoyance around other people. I told you I don't even _like_ people. I preferred to be alone...I always preferred to be alone," she trailed off hesitantly. She did like being alone. Alone meant she had no weakness. Alone meant she didn't have to be worried about being stabbed in the back. And yet at the same time alone meant...she was downright _lonely_.

"I did too," he said quietly as he continued his soothing motions on her back. He was a sniper. He worked alone for years. He thrived on solitude before. His eyes softened - he didn't think he could work alone anymore. Her presence was too addicting.

Natasha stared into his eyes and saw a hundred different emotions he was showing - and even a few that she was sure he wasn't.

"...you want me to say it's different now," she said carefully. Clint shrugged - he wasn't going to pressure her to say anything.

"Isn't it?" he asked quietly. Natasha gave him a cautious look.

"I'm not that different," she said guardedly. Clint finally stopped his hand on her back and pulled back to stare down at her.

"Really? So are you still the same harden, closed off, brainwashed Russian assassin I had a brawl with 9 months ago in Germany? Are you really still her? Would she really even consider of doing half the stuff we do? Can you really say that she is _Tasha_? Can she feel what _we_ feel?" he asked seriously grabbing her hand and holding it against his chest again. Natasha stared at his hand wrapped around hers and they both knew the answer to his questions. She _had_ changed.

"...no," she said with a sigh. Clint's eyes fell at her tone.

"You sound so reluctant to admit any feelings at all Tasha. I know it's new for you, but don't you like how I make you feel?" he asked sadly. Natasha felt something inside of her clench painfully at his tone and she instantly rested her other hand against his cheek and took a steady breath.

"If I say yes Clint...it means it will hurt more when things go to shit," she said carefully. Clint shook his head.

"Can't stop that - feelings always get hurt no matter how hard you try not to," he said honestly. Natasha grimaced.

"You make it sound so unpleasant," she muttered. He laughed softly.

"Trust me, the good outweighs the bad - usually," he said with a grin. His grin faded as she moved her hand and a started tracing the rough planes of his face with her finger as she considered his words. He felt his breath catch in his throat when he realized she was finally starting to show little signs of affection. For someone who was never shown affection in her entire life that was a big step.

"Whatever you think happiness is - the closest thing I've ever felt is probably what I feel with you," she finally admitted. Clint closed his eyes and leaned into her comforting touch.

"Thank you for finally saying that," he breathed. He felt her hands let go of his neck and inch up his head until they were buried in his hair. She leaned into him and he felt himself get hit with a strong wave of her sweet smell that had his head reeling.

_Natasha. Natasha. Natasha_.

"Clint?" she said with a slightly breathless tone in her voice. He felt a smile pull at his lips.

"Yeah?" he whispered trying not to tremble in anticipation.

"I'm going to kiss you," she said in slight amusement before she pressed a sweet kiss to his lips that nearly caused him to melt right into the floor. She tugged his head down closer to hers and gently deepened the kiss as he came willingly. Clint sighed in pleasure and buried his own hands in her long hair as she slowly kissed his breath away. Natasha wasn't soft – she was anything but soft – but he really, _really_ liked it when she tried to be. When she kissed him softly he knew it wasn't just some reactionary decision she made when she was angry or high off adrenaline. She had to truly, _truly_ want him if she kissed him like that.

"I missed you Tasha," he breathed as she pulled away. Natasha sighed and let him hold her tightly. This Natasha was smarter, she was sharper, she was more deadly, she was colder, she made less mistakes - she was the one he fought so damn hard to get back. He was silent for several moments until she realized what he was waiting for her to say.

He stared at her – she stared back. Not gonna happen.

He stared some more – she didn't say _nothing_.

"Say it," he said quietly. Natasha made a face.

"_No_," she said stubbornly.

"Say it Tasha," he said as he narrowed his eyes. Natasha scowled.

"No, I didn't even _go_ anywhere!" she said defensively. Why did she have to say it? Clint instantly grabbed her wrists and held them above her head too fast for her to even resist.

"If you don't say it we're going to be here for a _long_ time," he said seriously as he tightened his grip on her wrists. Natasha gritted her teeth. She could get out of his hold – but she would have to break his _own_ wrists first. They both knew she wouldn't risk that. They glared at each other for several minutes before Natasha finally just caved out of impatience and banged her head back against the wall and huffed. He was so _annoying_.

"I missed you too," she muttered finally. Clint sighed in relief and buried his face in her neck.

"I'm glad you're back," he whispered trying not to choke on the emotion he was feeling.

"She was still me - just a bit off..." she said trailing off because they both knew that was a lie.

"You mean crazy right?" he said flatly. He wasn't going to pretend that Natalia wasn't missing some vital screws in her head. She was too reckless – even for his tastes.

"Eccentric...?" Natasha tried hesitantly. Clint gave her a long look.

"Bat shit insane," he deadpanned. Natasha sighed.

"Bat shit insane," she muttered reluctantly. Clint rolled his eyes are her reluctance.

"Embrace the truth Tasha – you have little miss _crazy_ in you," he said dryly. Natasha scowled at him.

"Regressing to Natalia is a problem," she said with a sigh. That girl made so many bad decisions in the last 48 hours Natasha didn't know what to say.

"She is..." Clint started to say.

"…a much more reckless stupid crazy version of myself," she muttered.

"...kind of cute," he finished lamely. Natasha stared at him before she promptly whacked him over the back of his head.

"Stop mooning over my alter ego!" she growled. Clint scoffed.

"Hey! You can't blame me - she was still _you_!" he said defensively. Natasha instantly tensed.

"If you liked her so much why did you bring me back huh?" she growled. Clint instantly sobered.

"I didn't make the choice Tasha. You have her memories. You know she chose to be injected with the enhancers. If she said no...I wouldn't have forced it on her - no matter _how_ much I wanted you back," he said seriously. Natasha glared at him for several more intense seconds before she finally managed to accept that he preferred her above everyone else.

"I know. I'm sorry," she muttered looking away. Clint watched her warily.

"You're jealous of yourself - now that is _weird_..." he said warily. Natasha pinched the bridge of her nose.

"She's not real Barton. She's just this mental state I collapse into when...when..."

"When the enhancers fuck with your head?" he said quietly.

"Yeah," she said with a sigh.

"I think she's real. And she's not that bad - after she stopped trying to kill me at least. She grew on me after a while...but I like you better Tasha. I like you so much better," he whispered.

"Really?" she said dryly. She was definitely the colder one between the two of them. Natalia was practically _sweet_ compared to her.

Barton really did like them weird.

"How long do you think it'll take for Coulson to make his way back here?" Clint asked with an odd look on his face.

"He'll be back in about 12 minu- _no_!" she said immediately catching onto his line of thought as his hand inched up the back of her shirt.

"Clint do you want to scar him for life?" she asked disbelief as she grabbed his hand and forcefully pushed it away before he destroyed her self-control along with his own. Clint scowled at her.

"Oh come on Tasha! The man is 32 damn years old - he's not some virginal little girl! I'm tired of always being so careful Tasha! I'm tired of acting like we're doing something illegal. God damn it why do a bunch of suits sitting in New York get to dictate an agent's god damn sex life - or lack thereof?" he huffed. Natasha pinched the bridge of her nose and took several calming breaths - someone had to stay in control of their hormones - Barton _clearly_ already lost the fight with his own.

"Do you really want this to happen here? In some backwater shithole in the middle of nowhere? When we are still being hunted by the organization that has wanted me dead for months? Are you even _thinking_?" she asked heatedly. Clint gave her a steady look.

"I am thinking. I'm thinking that the second we get off that plane in New York SHIELD will be on our ass and who knows how long we'll be stuck at base," Clint muttered into her shoulder. Natasha took a careful breath.

"_I_ think...you need to take a step back, clear your head and _breathe_ Barton. Half of all this insanity is because of all the shit we just went through right? Sleeping with me is not going to make you feel any better about the emotional rollercoaster you just got off of. It's not going to fix the mess you feel like your head is in and its definitely not going solve any of our problems right now," Natasha said seriously.

"You don't know that," Clint grumbled. Natasha firmly pushed him back and stepped away from the wall. He watched her reach up and ghost her fingertips over his face before she rested her palm against his cheek. He unconsciously leaned in her warm touch.

"Don't sleep with me because you're scared I'll disappear Clint. Don't I deserve more respect than that?" she said softly. Clint's heart clenched and it instantly kicked the unstable selfish part of him out of the front seat of his brain.

She was asking for respect. Natasha deserved so much more than just respect.

"Yes," he whispered. Natasha smiled softly. There was a reason he was the first man she ever allowed to get close.

"Good. Let's go deal with some uptight bosses and then afterwards we can finally go home," she said firmly as she let go of his face and walked towards the front door.

"What are we going to do when we get home?" he couldn't stop himself from asking. Natasha shot him a dirty look.

_Ugh._ Men really never change – not even the decent ones.

"Barton..." Natasha said warningly. He grinned and wagged his eyebrows at her.

"It's valid question," he said suggestively. Natasha felt like strangling him.

"Work first, talk later," she said evenly. Clint scoffed as he followed after her.

"Bunch of damn cockblockers," he muttered under his breath.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The ride home was a weird formation of Clint being the primary pilot, Natasha acting as his co-pilot (but really she was just letting him do all the work as she read a book she stole from Coulson) and Coulson was being Coulson in the back of the jet as he did whatever secret handler stuff he did on his phone. They were an odd trio - but somehow they made it work. Natasha was just getting into her book when she started feelings the eyes on her. First she ignored it. It started at her feet and she steadily felt the attention trail up her body as she consciously took over her breathing rate. When the staring got to her chest she had to stop it before Coulson died from embarrassment.

He was undressing her with his eyes. That bastard. That utter, utter _bastard_. Natasha promptly crossed her legs and narrowed her eyes as she forced herself to keep reading. _I will not break. I will not break._ _I will not break._

"If you keep staring at me like that you're going to crash the plane Barton," she said stiffly without looking up. She heard him scoff like he was insulted by her underestimation of his flying skills.

"I can fly with my eyes closed Tasha," Clint said without looking away. Natasha finally looked up and glared at him while Clint just flashed her an overly sweet smile. Her glare deepened.

"I'm going to die young," Coulson groaned from behind them. Clint snorted. The fraternization police still had a voice.

"Ah poor Coulson we're sorry for killing your virgin ears – you'll die a hero!" Clint said innocently. Agent Barton didn't know how right he was. Coulson and Natasha both paused – Hawkeye was anything but innocent. Forget the fact that he was an assassin – he was a downright _ass_.

Natasha looked up and gave her partner _the look_. The _Tasha is severely unimpressed_ look. Clint flashed her a lazy grin and wagged his eyebrows at her. He felt his heart clenched as he realized that if she was giving him that look they were going to be okay. They were flying home in one piece and most of their sanity intact – they'd be okay. Natasha's scowl faded when she saw his eyes soften unexpectedly even as he had the shit-eating grin on his face. _Clint you are such a contradicting bastard, _she thought silently as she returned his soft look.

"Again with the _faces_!" Coulson huffed in disbelief. The moment instantly broke and they both promptly broke eye contact. Coulson was such a pain in their ass.

"_Hero_!" Clint said in a singsong voice. Natasha pinched the bridge of her nose and went back to her book. If Barton was even half this annoying with her she would stab him.

He knew that _very_ well. He was extra nice to her for his own health…and also because he kind of wanted her to see him as more than just an asshole of a partner. He needed her. He needed her to need him too. Everyone else?

Too damn bad.

"Hero my ass – I'm a damn SHIELD nanny," Coulson muttered. Clint snickered like naughty preschooler.

"You said it Coulson – not me," Clint said raising his hand in defense – the jet tilted to the right as he invariably had to let go of the controls to manage the gesture.

"Keep your hands on the _controls_ Barton!" two agents shouted in alarm. Clint tucked his hands behind his head and easily righted the jet with his knees.

"Showoff," Natasha muttered from beside him. Clint laughed when he heard her. She always managed to make him laugh. What on earth were the agents at SHIELD talking about when they said the Black Widow lacked a sense of humor?

Clint thought she was golden.

"Who needs hands?" he said with a mischievous grin as he picked up the black baseball cap off the control board and stared at it for a moment before he glanced at his bemused looking partner sitting beside him. She glanced down at the familiar cap and he promptly pulled it over her head like he did to Natalia several hours ago. Natasha blinked as the cap covered her eyes just like before. She knocked it back to be able to see him and raised an eyebrow in question. Clint gave her a secret smile.

"Looks even sexier on you," he whispered as he tugged a loose strand of her red hair sticking out from under the truthfully rather _unflattering_ cap. Unfortunately he must have some serious brain damage because he was looking at her like she was wearing something like a drop dead gorgeous little black dress – frankly in reality she looked like a rough around the edges tomboy. Natasha gave him a dry look - he found the _weirdest_ things sexy. An old ratty baseball cap was right up his alley.

Clint grinned when she gave him one last exasperated look and went right back to reading her book and ignored him completely. A few seconds later his shit eating grin widened uncontrollably - because she didn't take it off. She was never going to admit she actually liked his flattering looks.

"Fraternization rules…" Coulson muttered once more in utter in futile.

"Stick em up your _ass_ Coulson," Natasha and Clint said at the same time.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Haha I like their three-way dynamic. So we are about to enter off time and that means we can do non-mission stuff for a few chapters before I sent them on my next epic mission (I already have to planned so it all depends on how long you guys want to read about off mission) So what do you want to see next? **

a) Japan mission decompression and some comfort after nightmares (it's cute angst…can angst be cute?)

b) Clintasha Assassin first date - they haven't gone on any dates actually LOL (half wrote it)

c) Alicia and Clint baseball lesson – we haven't seen her in a while (already wrote it)

d) Fury and crisis in Romania – did you guys forget about poor Fury? (in progress)

e) Finding Kate Bishop and her partner Dmitri in New York – where do you think they live? (in progress)

f) Natasha finally opens up to Clint about the darkest parts of her past and her hellish time with the Red Room, including her past partnership with Barnes – this is a big step in their partnership (in progress)

**Which scene do you anticipate the most? **

**Please review and let me know! **


	80. Chapter 80

**I dare you **

**A/N: Interesting thought….So we all know Barton and Barnes are crazy protective of Natasha/Natalia (even if it's for different reasons)…but who's going to look out for Clint? **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 80 **

After an exhausting 3 hours of mandatory medical checkup and one long winded lecture from Hill about not revealing vital agent health information Clint and Natasha were ungracefully kicked out of the base and sitting in Coulson's SUV as he drove them home. He refused to let 2 severely sleep deprived agents behind a wheel after piloting a 12 hour flight - twice in the last 48 hours.

That was fine by Clint who was practically dead to the world as he instantly blacked out when they stumbled into the sleek black car. Natasha ignored the blatant display of being compromised as she sat rigidly in the backseat with an exhausted Clint Barton sleeping with his head on her shoulder and with his arms tightly wrapped around her waist. He was exhausted. Natasha was dead tired too but she had enough sense to stay awake and watch out for them even if there was no man safer to put their lives in his hands then their handler.

He was the only one who ever pulled their ass out of the fire after all.

He was the only one who kept his promises to them.

He was also staring at her with an unreadable look on his face as he drove them down a quiet New York street.

"When was the last time he slept Romanoff?" he asked carefully.

"Probably 80 hours ago," she said not taking her eyes off the window. She felt Clint tighten his hold on her waist but knew from his breathing he was still sleeping.

"So he hasn't slept since the night before you infiltrated Fujitsu? My god Romanoff you do realize he has pulled both your asses out of that hell hole in Japan, dealt with whatever nightmare disaster you had with Natalia and flew two separate 12 hour flights across the globe and has been awake for all 80 hours of it?" Coulson asked in sheer disbelief. The man should be dead by now. Natasha's eyes hardened.

"I know what happened Coulson - I was conscious for most of it," she said stiffly. She knew what Barton went through in the last 3 days. She knew he was exhausted even if he pretended he wasn't for most of the chaos. She knew he worked his ass off to get them out of there alive and sane. She knew she nearly killed him several times.

She knew she put him through a lot of _shit_.

Coulson didn't need to say a word to get that message across. His eyes said it loud and clear.

"You two are going on mandatory 1 week leave – no arguments," he said sternly. She tensed - neither of them wanted that.

"What? Why?" she asked suspiciously. 80 hours was nothing. She knew for a fact Barton could function at least at 80 % for 5 days without sleeping.

"First of all – because you both look like _shit_. Second of all – you are going to be getting to know SHIELD medical very well over the next few days because we need to figure out how your enhancers work, what they do to your body exactly…and whether we can make it permanent…or take you off them completely," Coulson said steadily. Natasha clenched her hands into fists.

"Going off of them means I can't access my own memories and I'll revert to Natalia again," she said rigidly. Coulson sighed, but his firm expression didn't waver.

"I know, but what if they cause irreparable damage? What if they are too unstable and dangerous for your body? What if they end up killing you Romanoff?" he asked seriously. She didn't have the answers to those questions - therefore he needed to get medical to find out for them. Natasha was too exhausted to keep her anger at a cool simmer and snapped.

"That's _my_ problem! _My_ body! _My_ choice!" she said angrily. Coulson narrowed his eyes.

"Being on drugs while on active duty is against protocol Romanoff!" he shouted uncharacteristically losing his cool too. Natasha's eyes flashed.

"They're not just drugs!" Natasha growled. Coulson scoffed.

"Yes they are and you're _going_ to go Romanoff – otherwise I will put you back on probation and you'll be banned from missions," he said dead seriously. Natasha's eyes darkened dangerously.

Nobody but Clint Barton had the balls to threaten the Black Widow.

Apparently Phil Coulson had balls of steel.

"Don't threaten me Coulson. I don't respond well to being cornered. Don't you dare think for a second SHIELD has me trapped and tamed like Fury makes the Council believe you do. I can still burn the entire organization to the ground - _I just chose not to_," Natasha said warningly with the threat clear in her tone. She owed Barton a debt - no one else. The only reason she was here masquerading as a 'loyal agent of SHIELD' was to repay that debt one day. Coulson took a deep breath and shook his head sadly.

"I really didn't want to say this - but if you think you owe agent Barton a debt for sparing your life back in Germany, then you owe me one as well for saving both your lives after you got captured by Castro," he said carefully - knowing full well he was using her personal code of conduct against her. Natasha went rigid and burned a hole into the ground as she fisted her hands around her jeans.

He was right.

"That is low and dirty Coulson - especially for you," Natasha said through gritted teeth. Coulson sighed tiredly. The unyielding Black Widow _exhausted_ him. How did Barton do it?

Time for plan B.

"If you care about him at all - you're going to get checked out by medical Romanoff because otherwise you become a liability. If you're at risk of becoming compromised then that's going to be on his mind during your missions. It's not the enemy getting the better of him - it's the distraction that's going to get him killed," Coulson said steadily. Natasha's eyes flashed.

"Stop trying to use him against me. I don't let emotions rule my decisions Coulson. I'm not going to let some agents in white lab coats with pretty little sketchy medical degrees anywhere near my body -not for _anyone_," Natasha seethed. She would never run her life based on emotions. She wasn't built like that. She may feel something for her partner and he may deserve a certain level of affection and her attention - but he would _never_ have her independence. Never.

"That's a good and a bad thing," Coulson muttered. Natasha shook with anger - if Clint wasn't still sleeping wrapped around her she might have been tempted to shoot Phil Coulson.

But she didn't think Barton would appreciate her assassinating his best friend because he was pissing her off. Sometimes she hated having morals - it left her so unsatisfied.

"You're a liar you know that? You told him what he wanted to hear. You don't like me at all," Natasha accused. Coulson shook his head - she had it wrong.

"No. I didn't lie. I _do_ like you - we're just having a disagreement right now," Coulson said calmly. Natasha glared at him.

"One hell of a disagreement," she spat sarcastically. Coulson sighed.

"At least go to the check up for yourself if not for him. We'll talk about results and final decisions later. Okay Natasha?" Coulson said with finality. Natasha tensed.

"You called me Natasha…," she said stiffly. Coulson paused with his eyes still on the road.

"Yes. I think after all we've gone through as a team, after Alicia, after saving both your asses from Castro's insanity, after being forced to watch you two make sickening eyes at each other - I think we're past last names when off duty. The three of us are going to be together in one messed up happy work relationship for a long time okay?" Coulson said warily. Natasha felt an ugly emotion well up inside her and couldn't stop the venom from leaving her lips.

"Oh are you looking for a threesome?" she asked spitefully. Coulson tensed.

"_Natasha_," he said as his eyes flashed. Barton's brass attitude was rubbing off on her. She was usually the stick up her ass cold polite half of their partnership.

"Sorry," she muttered as she instantly looked away. That was uncalled for and she knew it. Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose and took several deep breaths. He really hoped he wasn't going to get shot today - that would be a bitch to explain to Hill. She would eat him alive for provoking an assassin without reason.

But he had a very important reason.

"Natasha...tell me you're not just messing around with him. Tell me you understand that Barton doesn't break protocol for just a pretty face. Tell me you haven't been stringing us all along since the beginning and that you are not on some undercover assignment for the Red Room and using him as a means to infiltrate SHIELD. Tell me you aren't trying to seduce him for some ulterior motive. Tell me you don't plan on making him fall for you and then just disappear one day. Killing him is better than that type of betrayal," Coulson said knowing his words were brutal - but they were necessary. He knows assassins like Romanoff – he knows what women like her can do to men like Clint Barton. He had to be sure.

The only reason Natasha didn't shoot him right then and there was because if it was anyone other than Clint Barton – the man currently _drooling_ on her shoulder, the man who held onto her even when she gave nothing back, the man who could still smile warmly at her even after she literally tried to end his life several times over, the man who risked his life to fix hers - if she had been partners with anyone else?

Coulson would have been right.

And that was a downright _terrifying_ thought indeed.

"You have very little faith in people Coulson..." she said quietly staring out her window again. Coulson winced but didn't deny it.

"I'm realistic Natasha. My number 1 job is to keep agents alive. I've been working the system for 12 years. Trust me - I've seen it all. What's happening between you and Agent Barton is not new and neither is it shocking. I'm not going to insult your intelligence and assume you don't know this - but 96% of partnerships that turn into relationships don't last longer than a year. Being SHIELD agents is a stressful job - this type of unnecessary drama makes it even worse," Coulson said warningly. Natasha was silent for several moments.

"Barton is not just an agent to you," she stated as a fact more than a question. Coulson shook his head.

"Barton is my _friend_ Natasha. He is a broken 24 year I pulled off a suspension bridge 5 years ago and helped him built himself into a better and stronger person. He worked his ass off to be who he is today. He's come a long way from what he used to be but he's not perfect. He still had cracks that can break open and undue all the progress he made over the years," Coulson said cautiously. Natasha stared at him.

"What does this have to do with me Coulson?" she asked heatedly. Coulson gave her a pointed look.

"I'm asking you as his friend to let him _go_ if you're not seriously invested. Don't hurt him Natasha - you have the power to make him happy...but you hold the power to destroy him as well. And my inability to see what you want is what scares me," he said with an undertone of genuine anxiety clear in his tone. Natasha shifted uneasily in her seat and what made it even more awkward was feeling her partner's breath on her neck as he gripped her shirt and continued sleeping right though the tense conversation happening beside him. It was hard to pay attention to Coulson's arguments when he was that close,

"Barton is a grown man Coulson - he's even older than me," she said carefully. Coulson shook his head and gripped the steering wheel tightly in his hands.

"Trust me - we both know age has nothing to do with this," he said giving her a knowing look. Natasha shook her head.

"You don't know me at all," she said quietly looking away from his piercing gaze.

"You're right. I don't know a thing about you outside of your rather disturbingly long assassination file and the professional contact we have had over the last few months. See it from my perspective Natasha. He shows up with the woman he was supposed eliminate with nothing backing up your turnover story, no information, no solid intelligence that we should believe you aside from Barton's accounts. You two become partners and not even 9 months later you're in what looks like a dead serious relationship that shouldn't even exist because it is _completely_ against regulation," Coulson said carefully. Natasha sighed and leaned her head back against the head rest. She felt Barton's heart beating at a steady pace as he had his chest pressed up against her shoulder and she knew they were well passed screwing over regulations.

"Does SHIELD regret recruiting me?" she asked warily. Coulson gave her a weak apologetic look through his rear view mirror.

'Not yet," he said quietly. Natasha leaned her head against Barton's unconscious one and sighed inaudibly.

"No one can forget the past. That's what I always try and tell him – but the little bastard never listens," she muttered under her breath. Barton never allows reality to trap him in a box – but Natasha felt like she was always trapped in a vicious cycle that was her life. Coulson chuckled.

"Barton doesn't listen to anyone but himself. The trick is to make him think it was his own brilliant idea and he'll go right along with it," he replied calmly. Natasha was silent for a few moments.

"No," she said quietly. Coulson paused.

"…No what?" he asked slowly.

"No – I'm not messing around with him. I don't do relationships like this with anyone – let alone the man that I owe a serious debt to and is my _partner_. It's stupid and reckless and it is going to land us in so much shit. I didn't plan for this to happen…but I don't regret it either," she said truthfully. Coulson watched her burn a hole into her knees with her intensely focused gaze and for once he believed that the Widow wasn't bullshiting her way out of the situation – he was getting the truth.

"So why him?" Coulson asked quietly repeating the same question he asked Barton several hours ago. He wondered what she would say. Natasha shifted in her seat and Coulson could tell she was struggling to find the right words that would actually satisfy him.

"Because he is like a breath of fresh air above the surface after suffocating for years in hell," she said finally. Coulson felt a good chunk of his doubts finally melt away.

"_Thank_ you," he breathed in honest _relief_. Natasha furrowed her brow feeling more than just a little uneasy but nodded.

"Please forgive me for remaining cautious Natasha," Coulson said sadly. He has seen agents get seduced by the enemy too many times in his years at SHIELD. Maybe Natasha will be the first to prove that scenario wrong. He hoped she was different. He hoped Barton's' trust wasn't being placed in the wrong person. Natasha stared at the firm archery enhanced arms wrapped around her waist and glanced out her window again.

"I'm glad he had you," was all she said in response.

The rest of the ride was passed in silence. If Coulson saw Natasha discretely comb her fingers through Barton's hair he didn't say a thing and she pretended he couldn't see her.

Agent Coulson and agent Romanoff weren't exactly friends – but they weren't enemies either. They had one priority in common.

It was enough.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: I wonder if Barton was actually sleeping. ;) Interesting watching the Widow get grilled about her intentions with his best friend LOL! **

**Wanna guess what comes next? **

**Chapter 80! Milestone! **

**I wrote the next chapter! :) haha. I'll update tomorrow! **


	81. Chapter 81

**I dare you **

**A/N: What is the first thing Clintasha does when they get home? **

**You'll laugh. And then maybe tear up a bit. **

.

.

.

.

.

.

**Chapter 81 **

20 minutes later.

"Alright we're here," Coulson said quietly stopped the car in front of their rundown apartment Natasha hasn't seen in a week.

"Great - now how am I supposed to get his unconscious ass out of here?" she muttered as she poked her partner in the side.

"I can help-"

"_Wake up_ Barton! I refuse to carry your dead weight up 6 flights of stairs!" Natasha scolded before she promptly slapped him across the face. Coulson practically sweat dropped.

Well she was a sweetheart wasn't she?

Coulson burst out laughing at the bewildered look on Barton's face as he fell face first into the leather seat with a loud SMACK!

Cue pathetic groan.

"Tasha..._when_ will you stop being a damn beast?" he whined as he rubbed eyes. Natasha snorted.

"Never. Bye Phil," Natasha called over her shoulder before she waltzed right out of the car. He had earned her respect and he didn't even know it.

"Bye Natasha," Coulson said with friendly nod. Clint's head whipped back and forth between the two most important people in his life.

"What the hell happened?" he muttered. Coulson gave him a long look.

"Get out of my car Clint before she locks you out of your own apartment," he said dryly. Clint scoffed.

"I can easily break into my own apartment," he muttered as he slammed the door shut behind him and shared one last look with his handler before he turned to follow his partner who was actually nice enough to wait for him at the door but not nice enough to wake him gently.

Beast.

"That was a _beautiful_ wake up call," he said sarcastically as he stopped in front of her several inches _far_ too close for casual conversation - but Natasha was an expert at controlling the situation and simply gave him a bored look.

"You drooled on me," she said with an unapologetic shrug before she spun around and walked up at the stairs to the entrance. She was about to enter the building with a victorious cocky sway in her hips when his next words stopped her.

"So that was an interesting conversation," Clint said casually from behind her.

Natasha froze and completely stopped moving. He patiently stopped with her as she just stared at him.

"You were _awake?_" she asked suspiciously. She swore his breathing was even - he had to have been sleeping. He _had_ to be. Apparently she was underestimating his acting skills again - that or he somehow got better. Clint gave her a weak smile.

"Of course - you were practically shaking with rage. I was going to physically restrain you before you killed him," he said calmly. As _if_ he could sleep through tension like that. He had been hugging her for a reason.

"He had a death wish," she muttered. Clint just smiled. "Was that his way of saying he cares about me?" Natasha asked slowly watched their handler pull off their street and cruised around the corner.

"Coulson is an odd standoffish type man Tasha - but he cares," Clint said honestly. Natasha made a face.

"Then he cares about me because he care about you," she muttered. Clint shook his head.

"No. I think he's genuinely starting to like you," he said with a grin. Natasha groaned.

"I feel like I'm trying to please your father or something," she muttered as she rubbed her temples in frustration. Clint burst out laughing.

"He's only 8 years older than me Tasha. Hardly my father," he said sounding highly amused.

"He's a freakishly good interrogator - he nearly had me cornered about the enhancers," she muttered. She never felt that exposed in her life. Clint's expression suddenly turned serious.

"So the medical checkup..." he started carefully. He would never ask her to do something she didn't want to do – but he would worry. He would always worry about her. Natasha shook her head.

"I was going to do it before he even asked - I just despise being told what to do," she said simply before she brushed past him and walked into their building. Clint sighed softly in relief and followed behind her.

"I could see that. Damn do you know you thoroughly unnerved him with your Black Widow persona coming out? He was twitching funny like he wanted to grab his gun in his jacket pocket but didn't want to provoke you at the same time," Clint said shaking his head in wonderment. Natasha didn't falter in her step but Clint picked up the slight shift in her mood. She was brooding again.

Who knew Widows could brood so much right?

"I have a tendency to scare most men," she said emotionlessly. She instantly got knocked out of her closed off and blank state of mind when two pairs of arms wrapped around her waist and she got dragged back into a solid frame and felt a warm breath in her ear. She resisted her body's reaction even as he slipped his hand under her shirt and lightly caressed the soft skin around her stomach. Natasha normally hated when men took liberties like this.

The fact that she let him do it told a whole other story.

"Glad I'm not most men Tasha?" he whispered in her ear. Natasha was about to make a sarcastic reply to cover up her rapid heart rate when she instantly felt a damp part of her shirt on her shoulder brush her skin as he leaned against her.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Barton...if you were fake sleeping...were you drooling on me on _purpose_?" Natasha asked menacingly. Clint paused as he considered the reality of her words.

Oh...shit.

"Ask me no questions I'll speak no lies - bye drop dead sexy Widow!" he said in a rush before he bolted up the stairs at lightning speed. Natasha's green eyes flashed as she watched the coward run for his life.

"I am going to kick your hawk _ass_!" she shouted as she grabbed the railing and shot up after him.

"I know you love my ass don't you _agent_ Romanoff?" Clint hollered over the railing several floors above her. He instantly ducked when and sharp knife came flying at him and embedded itself in the wall behind him. He peeked over the edge and gave his partner a filthy, _filthy_ smirk.

"You missed me Tasha dear!" he taunted evilly.

_BANG_!

Clint reflexively dropped to the ground at the bullet barely grazed the edge of his hair and joined its brother in arms the knife in the wall.

"Aw come on Natasha now the police are going to come!" Clint groaned as he stared at the bullet hole in the wall an inch from his head. He took a deep breath when he realized how close that one was.

He _knew_ she missed on purpose though.

Natasha hasn't missed a target in her life.

"We live on the shit side of town – so _no_ one is coming to save you Barton!" she laughed darkly – but he saw the slight spark flicker in her eyes that proved she wasn't the Black Widow hunting her target – she was a normal assassin being her own twisted playful self with her partner. He liked it.

"Maybe I don't want to be saved," he said quietly before he promptly disappeared around the corner. Natasha huffed before she grabbed the edge of the railing and swung herself onto the next floor and landed gracefully on her feet. She glanced up at the rest of the stairs and at the door to their floor – she already knew which way he went. She stalked down their hallway and stopped in front of their tiny little apartment at the end of the hall. She tried to knob – it turned. She walked into the pitch black room and narrowed her eyes.

"What are we playing? Fucking hide and seek?" she muttered exasperatedly. She knew he was in the room – she just didn't know where. He was good at moving in the dark unnoticed – that was his specialty. It was possibly the number 1 thing that kept him alive during years of solo ops in the field. Shoot and run missions were easier when done alone. When he switched to partnered mission his world became a whole lot different. Her specialty was in espionage – he was forced to compromise his preference.

She wondered if he missed solo sniper missions.

"Seriously Barton. I'm tired. You're tired. We really need to sleep," Natasha said with a sigh. She didn't know if she wanted to play this game with his anymore. She had a feeling she knew why he was doing this.

"I'm not tired Tasha," a calm voice said from inches behind her. Natasha froze – how did he sneak up on her? She instantly spun around to catch him off guard and possibly knock him on his ass but the moment she shot her arm out to shove him he was gone and all she caught with her bare hands was air. Natasha narrowed her eyes as she clenched her empty hands into fists.

"You _are_ exhausted Clint - stop lying to yourself," she said as she scanned the darkness that covered the familiar layout of their apartment.

"I'm not. I could even fight you," he said calmly from somewhere across the room. Natasha eyes steeled as she mapped the apartment in her head and tried to match where exactly his voice came from in relation to her memory.

"Don't make empty threats you can't follow through with Clint," she said warningly. She felt the air shift behind her and instantly ducked when a fist shot out over her head. She spun around and held up both her fists as she blocked his follow up blow aimed at her shoulder and she gritted her teeth as she dug her foot into the carpet to prevent herself from staggering backwards. She quickly jumped back and mentally keeps track of his exact distance and position from her – her brain had to do the estimate math because she couldn't see shit.

"Not empty," he said as he concentrated on anticipating her next move when he couldn't completely see her in the dark. He felt her shift her weight and knew the kick was coming before she did herself. He blocked the solid kick aimed at his stomach and redirected it away from them forcing her to lose some of her balance and accidentally bang the back of her knees into the shitty coffee table and nearly topple over the edge. Clint's hand instantly shot up to grab her by her shirt to prevent her from crashing into something sharp and used the momentum of her falling towards him to shove her into a wall. Natasha inhaled sharply as her back hit the wall more than a little roughly and caused her to see painful red stars behind her eyelids for a moment.

"Why are you fighting me? What are you trying to prove?" she demanded as she took a deep breath and forced him to break his hold on her shirt by twisted his arm back and causing him to fall to his knees to prevent her from breaking his wrist clear in half.

"Why are you fighting back?" he asked simply before he knocked her feet out from underneath her and had her crashing to the floor. Natasha gritted her teeth and sharply rolled out of the way before his fist made contact with her face.

"I'm not going to sit back and be your punching bag Barton!" she growled as she shot to her feet and pushed her hair out of her eyes. She tensed when she realized he wasn't standing in front of her anymore – damn darkness.

"I know - that's why I like you so much," he whispered in her ear. She tensed and instantly jabbed a killer elbow towards his stomach and caused him to bend over and wheeze. She spun around to face him and found him watching her with hidden emotions swirling in his eyes – he was masking his feelings for once. Weird.

"I'm starting to think you don't date women because you have some disturbing bipolar tendencies that have those poor _helpless_ women running for the hills," she said darkly holding up her fists and gesturing him to come at her. Clint scoffed but shot forward to try to catch her off guard in the dark either way. She always gave as good as she got – it was what he admired about her in the first place.

"And you don't? I'll admit I wasn't completely truthful. I've never had a real long term relationship Natasha – but I've tried once before – it didn't work out. She left me. Most women would leave me after they really got to know me Natasha. So I just stopped trying," he said quietly as he reflexively blocked all her punches.

"I'm still here…," she said cautiously. She may bitch at him but she was still here. Clint's eyes softened.

"Isn't that a shocker?" he said with a light chuckle. _Someone_ liked him enough to stick around. Enough to even let themselves be interrogated by his overprotective friend. Natasha's eyes grew wary.

"I'm not what most men want either Barton. I have the looks – but nobody wants what's behind the masks. They don't want to deal with a brainwashed child soldier, a former prostitute or a professional killer who made her first kill at 9," she said quietly as she threw a solid punch at his cheek and he caught it instead of deflecting it like he did months ago during a sparring match they had on base. Except this time he rubbed his thumb along the back of her fist and pressed his lips to her knuckles. Natasha felt her breath catch in her throat as the light coming in from the window suddenly reflected across his eyes and she saw an intensity that wasn't there a moment ago.

"That's not true – I do. I think Barnes did too," he said carefully. He was always going to hate that little annoying Russian ninja assassin – but Natalia chose him and with Natasha still here backing up that decision he was finally feeling confident about her choice. She didn't talk about Barnes often but he could tell by the way her face tightened that it wasn't the same. James and him weren't the same to her – just similar.

"Both of you are two shits of the same brand of insanity though!" she said irritably. Clint snorted.

"Face it Tasha – you like your boys a little crazy and rough around the edges," he said with a wary smile. Natasha's eyes flashed in an instant she had him pinned to the ground with her knees digging into his chest and her gun in her hand within seconds.

"_Dead_," she growled shoving her gun under his chin. Clint laughed softly and dropped his head onto the floor – his laugh was more than a little broken. She knew he had stopped trying to win exactly 2 minutes ago. She furrowed her brow – he had consciously wanted to lose.

"The Black Widow has me at the end of her gun and murder in her eyes. I'm disarmed and restrained and completely at her mercy - and yet I'm not dead," he said with a wry smile as his short brown hair fell into his eyes. Natasha scowled at him. Bastard – did he _want_ her to shoot him or something?

"You were sloppy," she said between deep ragged breaths. Clint snorted as he tried in futile to remove himself from her deadly hold – she didn't even let him breath properly.

"I was distracted," he muttered. Natasha snorted.

"Of course you were – you're sleep deprived! Those dead brains cells that need rest Barton. R and R. Recuperation. Down time. _Sleep_," she stressed. Clint scoffed.

"_You're_ not going to sleep," he shot back childishly. She tensed.

"I'm not the one who needs it the most Barton. I had a damn fantastic 8 hours of unconsciousness in the safe house while I had enhancers taking over my body. You haven't shut your eyes since Japan," Natasha said sternly.

"I think you nearly broke the table," he said dryly. Natasha gave him a hard look. He was trying to distract her.

"I think you're trying to break _yourself_," she said carefully. She felt him freeze up before he finally just gave up and she felt the fight drain right out of his body. He was done fighting her.

"I don't want to sleep Natasha," he said in defeat. Natasha dropped her gun from his face and sat back on his waist and stared at his chest for a long moment.

"You're not the only one who has nightmares Clint," she said carefully. Clint rested his hands on her hips and made small circular motions along her skin.

"I know – the walls aren't thick around here Natasha," he said quietly. Natasha instantly looked away.

"It's a part of the job – you have to learn to deal with them," she said distantly. He paused in his soothing motions and finally looked up at her green eyes watching him and his actions with caution.

"What are your nightmares about Natasha?" he asked quietly. He instantly felt the tension skyrocket in her small frame.

"I already told you before Clint," she said guardedly. Clint shook his head.

"No – not the ones where we both die on one of our crap missions – we all have those. I'm talking about the…the ones that make you sound like someone is suffocating you and you're seconds away from breaking down ," he said softly. Natasha instantly tensed and stood up. He saw a mask snap into place so fast it gave him whiplash.

"Good night Barton," she said swiftly spinning around and stalking towards her room. Clint shook his head as he watched a hundred walls go up with each step she took away from him. He pushed himself off the ground and followed after her with a determined look on his face.

"How can we be in a relationship when you never let me see anything about how you became the person you are today Natasha? How can we build anything together if we can't even open up about our pasts? How can we live together, work together, spend every fucking day together and still have this ocean of secrets – look at me when I'm talking to you _Natasha_!" Clint demanded heatedly. The tension between them was palpable.

"I said _good night_ Barton!" she growled without turning around to face him and his raging form.

"When are you going to tell me what you've been through Natasha? When are you going to let me _know_ you?" he demanded. Natasha's eyes flashed.

"You already know too much Clint – there are things you don't want to know damn it!" she shouted spinning around about to give him a withering glare but froze when she found him hovering over her while staring at her with his intense sniper gaze. His movements are undectable when he wants them to be. It makes him dangerous – much more dangerous then he appears. It was small things like that which caught her attention in the first place. He was so much more than what he seemed on the outside and he has gone through great pains to show her he wasn't the aloof Hawkeye persona he maintained in front of everyone else. He showed her Clint Barton was different and he was offering that part of himself to her – however imperfect it may be. But for her what is on the outside is all she ever wants anyone else to see – she had no pieces of Natasha Romanoff to give.

"No – that's the thing Natasha. I want to know _everything_. I want to know everything about you – no matter how bad it is, no matter what you did, no matter how many innocent people you murdered – because we both know I have too," he said darkly. Natasha angrily shook her head.

"It's not just about killing people Clint. It was never just about killing people. There are so many things worse than death out there," she said angrily. Clint narrowed his eyes and caught her hand before she could walk away from him.

"How many of those fates have you seen? What type of hell have you been through?" he asked suspiciously. Natasha instantly wretched her hand out of his grasp and brutally slapped him across the face. Clint rapidly felt the burn set into his skin but continued to stare at her with burning questions in his eyes as she breathed heavily and unevenly.

_What happened to you Tasha? What happened? _

"You know absolutely nothing about hell Barton. _Nothing_," Natasha spat viciously. Clint's eyes saddened. He knew he just crossed one of her personal boundary lines.

"You're putting up your walls again Tasha," he said quietly. Natasha's eyes hardened and he felt his heart drop. He knew from her body language he had just lost her.

"Good night Barton," she said rigidly as she back away from him and stalked into her room. He closed his eyes as he heard her door slam shut and the lock clicked into place. She never locked her door before – it was more symbolic than practical. She officially just shut him out. Clint collapsed against the wall and slide to the floor.

"My name's Clint," he said softly to the empty dark room.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Sigh. Poor Clint. He pushed her too hard and she locked herself away. He's not going to get her to say anything by pushing her like that. He's got to figure out a better way. But he is a smart cookie – you can't expect him to get through to her on the first few tries. He's gotta learn how to read her better. **

**What does it take to get through to a Russian assissin? **

**Almost done with the angst before we get to the happy stuff! **

**OFFICIALLY HIT 300,000 words! WOOOOO! Longest Clintasha fanfic ever! (I'm pretty sure...ah...does anyone know?) **


	82. Chapter 82

**I dare you **

**A/N: Second last angst chapter! SUPER AGNST! Like…megadamn angst. Probably the most angsty chapter of the story. Except the next chapter might top it. Oops. **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 82 **

After his cold Russian assassin partner locked herself away in her room Clint had really honestly tried to shove all thoughts about the tense shit that always seemed to explode between him and Natasha Romanoff out of his head. They were never able to stay in a stable phase in their relationship for long – they were too new, too distant and still had too many barriers to really know each other. He cared. He cared too much for it to be healthy – and he knew she cared in her own slightly skewed way too. Clint finally sat up on his bed and buried his face into his hands and angrily gripped his hair in frustration.

But caring wasn't _enough_.

He knew he couldn't be in a real relationship with someone like her without being able to really get inside her head and seeing what she mentally deals with every day. It wasn't just their relationship that depended on her letting him in – it was their partnership too.

And their partnership would always come before their relationship. _Always_.

He wasn't delusional or naive no matter what Natasha liked to think. He had a _very_ good idea of what someone like her has been through. Torture, brainwashing, isolation, training that left mental scarring and permanent damage. He was a well-trained SHIELD agent – he knew the signs of a child soldier – he knew all the small mannerisms she had pointed to a life that was drowning in darkness. He knew she had to sleep with many of her targets before SHIELD – he also knew that she didn't see sex the same way he did. Sex and emotions had no connection in her mind. To her what they had right now was probably more scary then fucking him ever would be.

He was kind of scared of what she would see him as afterwards - if they ever did get that far.

Clint sighed as he swung his legs over the edge of his bed and rubbed his hands over his face. He didn't lie to Phil _or_ Natasha. She did make him happy – the problem was that it wasn't enough. He didn't want just bits and pieces of her – he was selfish enough to want _all_ of her. He wanted to give himself to her – but he couldn't ask her to do the same. He couldn't ask her to do something so vulnerable. He's always wanted to give someone the key to safeguard the few pieces of his soul that he hasn't managed to lose over the years of working in the field.

But he didn't think Natasha was ready for that responsibility. It was too early in their relationship. He had a very _strong_ feeling that she would just drop the key and run. She's not even in this for love – so he wasn't about to give her his heart either.

He wasn't going to let himself fall – until she fell first – even if that took a damn long time.

Clint sighed heavily at the messed up reality of his life.

He needed to sleep. She knew it. He knew it. Damn Phil Coulson knew it.

But it was so much harder when he knew what was going to happen when he did close his eyes.

"This is going to kill me," he muttered into his hands.

"At least you're not already dead," a small voice said from in front of him. Clint's head instantly shot up and he locked eyes with dull blue eyes. He froze. He was staring into the face of the dead little blond girl from the trafficking base in Japan.

_Holy shit. _

"Natalie…," he said in a strained voice. Oh no. _Oh god no._

"How could you do it agent Barton?" she said accusingly. Clint felt his heart stop beating.

"I'm sorry. I told you I was so sorry," he whispered. He watched hopelessly as Natalie's small eyes hardened.

"You left us to _die_!" she shouted. Clint nearly gasped as his guilt slammed into him like a brutal punch to the gut.

"There wasn't any time. You were trapped. I-I couldn't risk-," he tried to explain his failure but she angrily cut him off.

"She means more to you then saving a prison full of defenseless _children_?" Natalie asked while her little body shook with rage. Clint's pained expression froze as he felt the breath get sucked out of his lungs.

_Was she?_

"No! I would have saved you if I could have Natalie!" Clint pleaded desperately raising his hand to touch her and prove to her that he wasn't a monster.

"You're a heartless bastard!" she shouted. Clint felt like he was instantly drowning in his sins – drowning in red.

"I know," he whispered in defeat as his hand dropped to his side.

"You're going to hell agent Barton. You're going to burn with your ledger," Natalie said darkly with too much contempt in her eyes for a _real_ 10 year old to be able to maintain – his mind was too twisted with self-hatred to make it any less intense though. Natalie's eyes were blue but for a second they flashed green – like the cold eyes he stared into every day for the past 9 months.

They were both going to hell.

"I know," he whispered. Natalie narrowed her eyes at his pathetic acceptance.

"Every bullet you ever shot, every arrow you ever released, every target you ever killed with your bare hands is going to haunt you for the rest of your life!" she growled.

"I know," he said as his hands started to shake.

"You don't even deserve to be _alive_!" she said angrily. Clint felt his mind flash to the gun und his pillow.

"I know - I shouldn't be alive," he whispered.

"_Barton…" _

"Why do you think agents are wary of you anyway? Why do you think no one wants to get close to you?" Natalie asked harshly. The gun was sounding _really_ good right now.

"I'm sorry," he whispered brokenly.

"_Barton!" _

"Why is it that the _only_ woman in the entire world who is able to even _stand_ you is more screwed up then a broken clock that has been wound up one too many times? Why have you been alone for all these years agent Barton?" Natalie demanded an answer.

Clint could only give her one – it would always be the same one.

"I didn't mean to let you die Natalie," he said brokenly.

"She doesn't even _know_ why you need her so much!" Natalie spat. Clint felt like crying. She was right. Natasha would never understand that depth of how much he needed her – their partnership, their friendship, their relationship - it went far beyond romantic interest.

She was the _only_ reason he didn't want to die.

"Please Natalie. Please believe me. I'd save you if I could go back Natalie. If the base wasn't about to explode, if you didn't have the bomb implants, if she wasn't unconscious, If I wasn't so scared I was going to lose her, if I just had more time-" he pleaded.

"_Barton wake up!" _

"You'd let a hundred little girls die before you let her die first wouldn't you?" Natalie spat. Clint froze in utter _terror_.

"No! No I wouldn't – I wouldn't-" he said in sheer panic.

_He wouldn't. He wouldn't. He wouldn't. _

_She wouldn't let him. _

"You're a sick psychopath who doesn't deserve to even breathe the same air as us!" Natalie shouted before she promptly slapped him across the face.

Clint gasped in deep excruciating pain – it felt like 50 lashes against his _soul_.

Blonde hair instantly turned red and with a blink of an eye 10 year old Natalie was gone and left in her place was his guarded looking partner.

"_Natasha_," he whispered his voice coming out horse and rough as he choked on her name. She watched him slide off the bed and fall to his knees as he stared up at her with agony burning in his eyes. Natasha instinctively took a step back away from the man who just held a full out one sided conversation with a dead girl, nearly committed suicide and mentally broke himself.

It was the scariest thing she has ever witnessed since his breakdown in the cave in Colombia.

At least he was awake then. He was not stable at _all_.

"How long was I not responding?" he finally asked quietly after a few minutes and deep breathing.

"6 minutes and 20 seconds," she answered curtly – because she couldn't deal with this with any emotions involved. Clint felt his breath catch on his throat.

"_Damn_," he whispered. Natasha was silent for a moment while she watched him try and fail to control his ragged breath.

"I didn't know you had hallucinations," she said carefully. Clint shook his head and winced as he made himself dizzy.

"I don't usually. It's a side effort of prolonged sleep deprivation and post-mission stress," he said tiredly. He knew his own body and how his brain worked fairly well. It's happened before. It was why he didn't want her to leave his side in the first place. Natasha uncomfortably shifted from side to side until she just dropped to her knees and was and kneeled in front of him. She watched him stare at the floor as tears slowly stopped leaking out of the corner of his tired puffy red eyes.

"You're crying…," she said slightly unsure if she should have said that – the burning look on his face told her she shouldn't have.

"You have fucking _terrible_ comforting skills Natasha," Clint said angrily. Natasha's face instantly hardened.

"Fine. I'll leave you alone then," she said guardedly as she instantly stood up. Clint's anger quickly turned to panic.

"No! No, stay!" he said quickly grabbing her hand and dragging her back towards him. Natasha watched him guardedly as he pulled her right into his lap and clutched at her tightly. Natasha was stiff as a board as he held her like she was practically his teddy bear. She has never felt more uncomfortable in her _life_.

"You really need to make up your mind about what you want Clint because you're bipolar-"

Clint instantly covered her mouth with his hand and muffled her harsh words before she could finish her sentence. She was the closest thing he had to a life line - but he needed her to be quiet.

"Just- just stop talking Tasha. Just stay. And be quiet. Please," he pleaded softly. He didn't want to hear reflexive sarcasm right now – he didn't think he would be able to respond in a nice enough way to keep her here. Her silent presence was enough. It was the only thing he needed right now.

It spoke volumes of how much she _actually_ cared for him that she didn't just leave him hanging and stalk away from him.

It just might have destroyed the little hold of his sanity he still had left if she left him now.

They stayed silent for a long time while Clint tried to work through all the mental garbage that was cluttered around his barely held together mind. Sometimes he didn't know where the cracks were. Sometimes it took him hours to figure out if he had mentally compromised himself or not. Sometimes he needed to rebuild his own inner walls to make then strong enough to not only keep the outside world out of his head – but reinforce the walls to keep his inner demons from come out of their dark corners of his consciousness well.

It was a delicate balance between sane Barton and dangerously unstable Barton. He managed to keep the balance just fine all these years though.

"I was seeing the little blond girl we talked to in the prison cells before your enhancers clocked out and you passed out," he finally said after what felt like hours of sitting in silence.

They might have done just that.

"What happened after you knocked Natalia out?" Natasha asked quietly. She remembered everything between that moment and waking up on the boat. Natalia wasn't conscious between those moments.

"I got us out in time Tasha. Through the sewers. I carried you…but just before the building exploded – I could hear their screaming," he whispered the haunted look was back in his eyes. He might have stopped going if he didn't have her unconscious body to drag out of there.

Natasha didn't say a single thing. No comforting words. Nothing. She just let him hold her tighter.

Clint took a deep breath.

"Thank you for not saying it's not my fault," he said closing his eyes and letting the guilt settle into his chest and adding to the dead weight that already existed there for a long time.

"Don't thank for me stupid things," Natasha said coldly. Clint felt her cold words bounce off his thick walls and slowly reached out to touch her face without opening his eyes. She really was crap at comfort – but nobody has even tried to comfort him in years. He thinks the last person to try before Natasha entered his life was Coulson – and he sucked at it too. There was just something about SHIELD agents that made them terrible comforters – probably because they could barely comfort themselves let alone others. The fact that she was here was enough.

"You didn't sleep," he said softly as he memorized her face with his fingers instead of his eyes for once. He smiled softly when she let him brush his hands over every curve of her face. No matter how cold Natasha was there was always these _tiny_ things that she gave that allowed him to hold onto her even if it looked like she was pushing him away.

No one else would understand.

"No – I wasn't ready to sleep," she muttered. Clint laughed quietly.

"Two insomniacs under one roof is just asking for trouble isn't it?" he said with a faraway look in his eyes. Natasha tensed.

"Maybe it was good thing I'm an insomniac…," she said carefully as she gave him a very sharp look. Clint took a deep breath.

"I wasn't going to shoot myself," he said flatly. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"_Liar_!" she spat. Clint shook his head.

"No. I wanted to – but I wasn't going to do it," he said honestly. Natasha's eyes flashed.

"I don't _believe_ you," she growled. Clint instantly pulled her closer and buried his face in her hair.

"I have a reason to live Natasha – I'm not going anywhere," he said quietly. He felt her freeze just like he expected and closed his eyes as he waited for her to make a choice.

_Silence_.

"Terrible reason," she muttered finally. Clint laughed in relief. She was going to brush it off. That was fine – for now. One day he wouldn't let her do that though.

"She is kind of a terrible person," he agreed.

"You have terrible taste in women," she grumbled. Clint snorted.

"You must have extremely high standards but I think I already have one that I don't fully deserve," he said calmly. He felt her stiffen in his arms and slowly ran his hands up and down her back to test how comfortable she actually was with him.

"Clint…," she said carefully pulling back to give him a cautious look. He stared back calmly.

"Tell me if you don't want me anymore Tasha – I don't mind," he said quietly. He wouldn't blame her after everything she saw. Every other woman else left him around this time anyway.

"We'd still be partne-"

She blew all his expectations out of the water when she leaned forward and just kissed him roughly to shut him up.

She hated dramatic words.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Well. That was bittersweet. Next chapter is more about Natasha and then happy fluff time (ah….okay when I say fluff…I meant MY version)! I know you're all dying to get out of angst mode aren't you? You'll be sick of fluff faster though. Haha. **

**Did you like the nightmare/Natasha style of fail comfort scene? That was half of it. The other half of the scene is next chapter. **

**QUESTION: AM I THE ONLY ONE NOT GETTING FF NOTIFICATIONS? :O  
**


	83. Chapter 83

**I dare you **

**A/N: Basically….it's Natasha angst time. It's not pretty. **

**Do not be fooled by seemingly happy Clintasha. XD I'm not that nice. Haha. **

**Last angst chapter. **

**You were warned. **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 83 **

Clint froze as Natasha snaked her deadly arms around his vulnerable easily snappable neck and straddled his waist as she shoved him up against the side of his bed. He tried to push her back and ask her what the hell she was doing but she just grabbed his wrists and slammed them against the bed frame - she was a hell of a lot stronger then she looked.

"Tasha!" he protested against her heated lips.

Natasha might be a little desensitized - but she was not stupid. She knew she was utter crap at using just words to make him feel better - but there were other ways to improve someone's mood without speaking with them.

"Who told who to stop talking huh?" she muttered as she thoroughly restrained his motion and deepened the kiss even as he continued to struggle against her. She promptly bit his bottom lip and he instantly froze.

"Not the same!" he gasped at the sudden shock. Natasha's eyes darkened as she finally pulled back and brutally yanked his head back with a painful grip on his hair and leaned forward.

"If you ever point a gun at your own head - I'm going to cut your dick off and shove your own arrows up your ass," she growled in his ear. He felt himself shudder at her threat even though he knew he shouldn't - she was dead serious.

"It'd be a shame to lose Baron Jr. The three of us would have had so much fun together," he said dryly trying not to let the breathless tone seep into his voice. Natasha made a face and shook her head. _Pathetic_.

"You're crap at foreplay," she muttered as she tightening her hold on his wrists – probably leaving bruises. Clint snorted. He was half dead, half awake, and half sane – what did she _want_ from him?

"I thought 9 months of foreplay was more than enough," he said gruffly as he rolled his eyes. Natasha eyed his relaxed form pinned to the bed under her own restraining grasp – he took submission too well. It almost made her ask about his past – but then she stopped herself because then he would expect her to return the favour. Her eyes darkened.

She wasn't going to have a damn story sharing session over hot chocolate with him or something equally stupid and domestic anytime soon. She quickly shook those thoughts out of her head and glanced back at the patient eyes looking up at her as he waited for whatever move she wanted to make. She quickly came to the conclusion she didn't really want to be the one doing the restraining anymore.

"This is too easy - I'm kind of getting bored here," Natasha said with a fake yawn. The second she opened her mouth to complete the rather insulting gesture she instantly found herself being flipped over as their positions were reversed and she inhaled sharply as he easily broke her hold on his wrists and instantly pinned her _own_ wrists together above her head and leaned forward.

"Really honey you're not the only badass master assassin in this room," he whispered in her ear.

"Really? I was starting to think you've gone soft and turned from a Hawk into a frightened little _pigeon_ or something," she said with amusement clear in her tone. She hissed when his grip on her wrists tightened painfully – she'd be lying if she said she didn't like it.

"I'm not soft," he growled right in her face. Natasha flashed him a dangerous smile.

"_Liar_ - depends on the situation," she said with a harsh laugh. In battle maybe not – in face of his failure to save a prison full of little girls?

_Definitely_.

Clint studied her minute expressions and narrowed his eyes.

"If we're discussing lies I think your biggest one is that you don't think you can feel the same depth of emotions that I feel," he said quietly. Natasha felt the cocky smirk on her face fade and she sobered instantly. He had to go ruin it. She was going to make him feel good and forget about all the shit he was feeling and he had to go and ruin _everything_.

_Fucking bastard. _

"That's because I can't Clint," she said carefully. Clint fiercely shook his head.

"You can only do the things you _believe_ you can do Natasha. If you don't believe you can do it …then you never will," he said quietly. Natasha finally sighed and dropped her head back against the bed and let her red hair spread out around her.

He killed the moment with damn emotions _again_.

"Then maybe I never will. Maybe I'll never reach the stage you are at Clint," she said tiredly. She looked away when he gently touched her face like he always does when he tries to reach out to her – it's almost like he's trying to permanently get under her skin.

"I don't think that's true," he said softly. Natasha shook her head.

"You might be wasting your time Clint," she muttered. Clint's eyes saddened – he didn't think any of his time with her was time misspent.

"Nah – never wasted. Call it an investment. Just promise that you'll try Tasha. Doesn't matter how long – just matters that one day you won't have to feel like everything you feel is watered down due to training drilled into your head from long ago," he said quietly. Natasha gave him a wary look.

"Wasn't that long ago," she muttered. Clint shrugged and leaned into her.

"Long enough – and with every day it gets further buried in the past," he whispered a breath away from her lips. Natasha took a shaky breath.

"No promises for fantastic results," she whispered back. Clint huffed but took whatever he was going to get for now.

"I killed the moment before didn't I?" he said making a face. She rolled her eyes.

"Yup," she said dryly.

"I can fix that," he said wagging his eyebrows at her suggestively. Natasha raised a doubtful eyebrow.

"I've seen you try and fix our thermostat and let me tell you, you are sh-" Natasha instantly got cut off as the rest of her sentence was mumbled against warm lips that tasted like mint toothpaste and something that was just _Clint_. She sighed in pleasure and abandoned her sarcastic comment in hopes of something more interesting. She buried her hands in his short hair and snickered a little when his hands were still hesitant as they ghosted down her sides. His demeanor instantly changed when he felt her laugh at him and he firmly dragged his hands purposefully down her back and firmly gripped her ass causing her to gasp into his mouth. The answering smirk she felt in his kiss was downright _dirty_.

Natasha felt sudden memories of all her past assignment personas flash across her eyes and for a moment she froze because she suddenly didn't know which character she was supposed to be playing. Her mind quickly caught up with the automatic trained mental response of picking a persona and running with it to seduce her target and all her thoughts came to a screeching halt as she realized she was treating him like every other men she ever slept with.

Natalia.

Natalie.

Nadie.

Nancy.

Nina.

Nicoletta.

They all ended their night with killing the man they slept with.

_Shit. Shit. Shit. _

Natasha froze.

"_Stop_!" she said suddenly. Clint instantly stopped.

"What? What's wrong Tasha?" he asked in genuine concern as he tried to keep the breathless tone out of his voice and cleared his head.

"I-I we can't Clint," Natasha said with clear panic in her usually emotionless eyes – Clint froze. Natasha _never_ panicked - not even when she is about to die staring death in the face. Now he was alarmed. What happened?

"What?" he repeated.

"We can't," she repeated pressing her palm flat against his chest and pushing him back. Clint stared at her in utter confusion.

"What's wrong Tasha? Are you scared?" Clint said carefully.

"Of course I'm fucking scared!" she exclaimed angrily. Clint _stared_ at her.

"Of what? Of _me_? When have you ever been afraid of me?" he asked in disbelief. That was utter bullshit.

"Not of you Clint! Of _myself_! Of all of _this_! Of what we're about to do!" she said angrily. Clint froze.

"So…you're saying…no?" he asked trying to understand what the hell was going on.

"We're going too fast Clint…," Natasha said angrily tugging at her hair. Clint furrowed his brow. He didn't understand. They were heading into this exactly direction in the safe house. What changed?

"You never said that before…and frankly Tasha we have been going at snail pace…," Clint said cautiously. Natasha took a shaky breath.

"I-I don't want to sleep with you Clint – not right now," Natasha said looking away from his strained expression. Clint stared at her still flushed cheeks and could see her blood pulsing through her body at an accelerated speed. He could read women fine. She still wanted him.

"Your body says you want me," he said quietly as he let his fingers trail over her frantic pulse in her wrist. He instantly felt her shut down. It was giving him whiplash and a headache. Forget about heartache - he promptly locked that one away.

"My mouth is saying something else Clint," she said guardedly. Clint felt something in his emotionally unstable mind snap.

"Natasha you're really messing with my head now. You come into my room while I'm having a nightmare and feel pretty damn terrible about myself. Then you proposition me and I didn't really mind because it felt really damn nice to hold someone after you feel like the world is out to get you and now you're pushing me away? Do you even know how that makes me feel? Do you not care about my emotional state at all Natasha?" Clint asked angrily. He knew she had problems dealing with emotions – but she was a god damn spy who had years of training in manipulation. She should know _exactly_ how her actions make others feel. She had _no_ excuse to use him like this. Natasha huffed angrily.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't mean to-I'm not trying- _ugh_!" Natasha abruptly ended her attempt at explaining herself by picking up his alarm clock and viciously whipping it across the room in frustration. Clint has never seen her lose control like that. They both ignored how the clock shattered into a million pieces against his bedroom wall. Clint shook his head.

"I thought we were both on the same page Natasha…I don't get…," he paused as he saw some unfamiliar emotion flash across her face. Alarms went off in his head. "What are you thinking Natasha? What's freaking you out?" he asked suddenly highly suspicious. Natasha tensed.

"Nothing's freaking me out – I just don't think we should do this right now," she said too quickly for it to be the truth – she was hiding something. Clint gave her a warning look that said – _stop lying to me_.

"Something freaked you out – Something big. I can feel it Tasha," he said carefully. Natasha instantly glared at him.

"Stop trying to pretend like you can read my mind Barton!" she spat. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"I _can't_ read your mind Natasha. That is why I never know when you are giving me mixed signals and when you are actually returning my advances! You're making me feel like a dirty asshole who's trying to take advantage of you Natasha!" Clint said angrily. Natasha froze.

"_No_! That's not what I'm trying to do!" she denied instantly – it was the complete exact opposite roles she was afraid of. Clint's expression suddenly darkened with anger mixed with a painful amount of hurt.

"Please tell me you didn't suddenly realize you don't find me attractive enough for you or some other shallow bullshit like that Tasha. Please tell me it's not because I'm not as handsome as any of the past lovers you have had," he spat. Natasha tensed.

"_What the hell_? You really think I care about what you look like Clint? You really think I would ever be with a man just because he was _pretty_?" Natasha asked angrily. Is that really what he thought of her?

Clint huffed and threw his hands up in the air in frustration.

"Well I sure as hell am not pretty! I'm a _soldier_ Natasha! You're in a relationship with a soldier! I'm not soft and romantic - I can't even pull off a suit for longer than a few hours. I'm trained in combat – not seduction. I neutralize targets with my riffle and bow – not with my physical appeal. I'm sorry if I don't live up to your high expectations. You're sure not really giving me anything else to work with!" he said heatedly. Natasha's eyes flashed in anger.

"It's not _about_ looks Barton! Attraction is not about looks! You're the first man I found genuinely attractive in my entire life _anyway_!" she growled as she angrily gripped the sheets beside her. Clint took a sharp breath – he didn't know that. She never tells him things like that. He didn't even have enough time to dwell on that unexpected but pleasant fact because he could tell she was starting to shut down again.

"Then what's bugging you Natasha? Why are you pushing me away?" he asked suddenly going quiet. Natasha however had finally reached her breaking point.

"Because then you become like _them_ Barton!" she shouted as she slammed her eyes shut.

_Silence_.

"…like _who_?" he asked carefully. He was going to kill them. He was going to kill them _all_ if she hasn't done it already.

"If I sleep with you - you becomes like everyone else…," she whispered. Clint felt his murderous thoughts come to a screeching halt as he processed her words. _What. The. Hell?_

"I'm not like all the men in your past Natasha. I'm not a target. We're not even on a mission. We're not putting on a damn _performance_ Natasha – SHIELD doesn't require those skills. You don't have to sleep with targets anymore Tasha. The only time you ever have to sleep with someone is if you _want_ to. Damn it Natasha you're here with me because you want-" Clint froze as a terrifying possibility just occurred to him. Natasha's pained expression all but confirmed it. "Natasha. Natasha _please_ tell me you've slept with at least one person because you wanted to – not because it was a part of an assignment…," he asked as the dread started to creep into his voice.

Natasha's eyes fell.

"I can't," she whispered. Clint rapidly felt his heart start to sink.

_No wonder. _

_He was an utter asshole. _

"Not even with Barnes?" Clint forced himself to say. He was not stupid – he knew from the way Barnes looked at her that they've had some sort of interaction in the past. Natasha shook her head.

"No. I slept with him as a cover. It wasn't a relationship," she said lifelessly. Clint paused. So Barnes was distant because Natasha didn't return his feelings. He wished he knew that one a few hours ago when he was losing his mind with jealousy.

"So you're scared that if we sleep together everything we have wouldn't be real?" Clint said quietly.

"Would we?" she asked uncertainly. Clint sighed.

"I don't know – you tell me," he said equally uncertain about anything right now. Natasha stared at the bed and tiredly pulled at her hair.

"Sometimes it's hard to know what's real when I've been playing characters all my life. I've slept with men as a maid, as a million dollar heiress, as a prostitute, as a call girl, as an airhead, as a waitress, as – you know, because of the number of times I had my memory wiped I don't even know the _number_ of men I've had to sleep with anymore?" Natasha whispered utterly horrified at her own past. Clint felt his heart break for her and tentatively reached out and placed his palm against her cheek. Natasha took a shaky breath but didn't pull away. Why did he even want to touch her after the sheer number of times she's been used?

"…How about as Natasha?" he asked quietly. Natasha struggled to breathe as his left hand joined his right and pressed against her other cheek so that her small face was cradled between his palms. How could he stand being with someone like her?

How could he? How could he? _How could he?_

Because she was worth less than _dirt_.

"…I've never slept with someone as Natasha," she whispered as her hair fell into her eyes. The Black Widow was the one who was the perfect seductress. The Widow was the one who made men scream in ecstasy before she stabbed them and made then scream in pain. She didn't want that to be them either. She didn't want Clint to be another man she bedded because she was ordered to. Clint took a calming breath and forced her to look up at him while he gave her an intensely focused look. For a man who was just recovering from one of the worst post-mission stressed induced hallucinations of his life he was rather good at comforting others. Clint might be one of the only agents at SHIELD who was good at comforting at all.

"I don't want to sleep with any of those characters either. I want my _partner_. I want the girl who has nearly died with me more times than I can count. I want the girl who fought me every step of the way until we reached this point in our relationship. I want the girl who can kill me just as easily as she can kiss me. I want Natasha Romanoff – no one else. I want her to want me too," he said softly.

"I _do_ want you…" she whispered. His eyes saddened. The saddest part was that he _knew_ she did.

"…but not like this," he finished for her.

"No. Not like this," she said in a faraway voice. Not while she couldn't decipher whether she was Natasha or one of the cover's she has played for the past 5 years as she kissed him. Clint's heart clenched as he watched her eyes glaze over for a second.

"We're real Natasha," he said softly as he gently stroked her cheek with his thumb. He felt her shake slightly under his touch.

"None of those times have ever been real. How do you know if we're real?" she asked desperately trying to keep her grasp on reality. Clint's eyes suddenly took on a determined look.

"Because you're going to sleep here tonight – but I'm not going to sleep _with_ you," he said firmly. Natasha took a shaky breath.

"Isn't that like tempting fate or something Clint?" she asked shakily. She just shot him down - shouldn't he be off sulking or something any normal ego bruised man would do? Shouldn't he be kicking her out of his bed altogether? Maybe even out of his life? She couldn't give him what he wanted – wasn't that why men even bothered to romance women anyway?

She couldn't have been _this_ wrong about men could she?

Clint chuckled and gently pulled her into a warm _mostly_ platonic embrace – it was too emotional to just be platonic. It made Natasha's chest hurt so damn badly she wanted to _stab_ herself.

"You tempt me with your sexy glares and deadly aura every single day for almost 9 months. I have very good control – trust me," he whispered softly in her ear. _Enough control to do whatever you need me to do – regardless of how it's going to kill me. _He left unsaid. Natasha hid her eyes against his shirt and took a deep breath.

"I do trust you Clint – and I don't give that freely. You're the only person I've ever trusted in my life. You actually bother to listen when I bitch at you and you don't walk away when I'm being stubborn. You yell back when I get pointlessly angry at you instead of just being silent and ignoring me. You're…you're like my best friend…," she trailed off hesitantly. Months ago she'd never even had a friend. He was her only friend. She didn't have a long time to differentiate between what part of him was her friend and what part of him was something more.

She thinks she was looking at her friend right now – only friends could look so genuinely concerned for your wellbeing right?

"I'm glad I'm your best friend Tasha…but I want to be more than just your friend. I always wanted to be more than your friend," he said as he traced a pattern along her bare arms. Natasha shivered but shook her head. He immediately pulled away.

"Maybe we can just be friends tonight," she said quietly. He gave her a weak smile that made her feel lightheaded.

"As long as you don't friend zone me forever…," he trailed off giving her a wary sideway look. Natasha looked up and locked eyes with him. They instantly felt the electricity start sparking between them again and they both lost their breath for a second.

Yeah, that was never going to go away.

"I don't think that's really possible...," she said dryly. Clint chuckled - he believed it.

_Thum. Thum._

They both tensed and suspiciously glanced at the door.

"Nobody ever knocks on our door – we're barely ever home…," Natasha said carefully.

"It's also 3 am in the damn morning…," he muttered reaching around her and grabbing his gun from under his pillow. He stood up and walked to the door with Natasha close behind holding a knife he knew she always had on her. She eyed the gun in his hand but didn't make any comment about his slight suicidal tendencies because she was fast enough to knock him out even if he tried.

She would kill him herself before she allowed him to point a loaded gun at his head.

"If it's a cat or something I'm going to shoot it _dead_," he muttered. Natasha blinked and got dragged out of her homicidal mixed with concerned thoughts.

"What is it with you and cats?" she asks genuinely confused.

"I hate cats," Clint muttered. Natasha gave him a wary look.

"What – did a little kitty cat ruffle your feathers the wrong way or something?" she asked dryly. Clint scoffed.

"Felines are _vicious_," he said very seriously. Natasha stopped trailing him.

"So why do you like me?" she asked quietly. Clint paused as he heard real honest uncertainty in her tone.

Sometimes he was almost tempted to think that Natasha was insecure about her own self-worth no matter how confident and sure of her skills she was while in the field. It was almost like the girl he slowly got to know off missions was a completely different person. He wondered how much of the Black Widow was simply just an act. The reserved personality was real - he had a feeling the natural confidence however was not.

"I forgot to mention cats are not sexy at all," he said warily before he stopped in front of their door and held up 3 fingers for her to see over his shoulder. She was positioned to stab anything threatening that moved but mostly she would just let Barton shoot whatever the threat was – simply to make things less messy. Clint promptly threw open the door and pointed his gun at – air.

"What the hell?" he said under his breath. He glanced down and found a sheet of paper resting on the ground. He crouched down and picked it up and glanced down to see what it said.

5 seconds later Clint Barton was leaning on the wall laughing his ass off as he clutched the paper in his fist. Natasha stared at him like he was crazy. His ability to shuffle from one intense emotion to another always managed to give her whiplash. He was genuinely laughing his heart out while she was still standing there feeling the aftereffects of their emotionally charged moment in his bed. She dropped her hand that was hold her knife and let it dangle at her side.

She didn't even know how to respond.

"Why are you laughing like a crazy person?" she finally asked bewilderedly. Clint was practically sobbing as he tried to get out a reply.

"R-r-read it!" he gasped as he held out the apparently _hilarious_ note for her to see. Natasha glanced down and warily read the crumpled piece of paper in his hand.

_"This message is given with all the respect and kindness in the world. On behalf of all the poor tenants of Brooklyn East End complex 2345 - Please have quieter sex - at least for the sanity of your sleep deprived neighbours,'_

_Sincerely,_

_- Tenants from room 601,602,604…611...616…619..._the list went onto the back of the page. Clint looked like he was about to pass out from the lack of oxygen. Natasha instantly grabbed his shoulders and stared him down.

"Breathe Barton! _Breathe_!" she growled in alarm. Clint inhaled a deep much needed breath.

"Damn this is like a _petition_!" he laughed some more as he leaned against their door. Natasha let go of his shoulders and eyed his exaggerated reaction carefully. He was using this as a distraction from them. It was stupid...but privately she decided to was _maybe_ a bit funny. However she was the Black Widow and she didn't waste her time on trivial things like this.

And yet here she was watching Clint Barton nearly laugh himself to tears at a stupid move on the building's poor virginal ears. When had she ever had neighbors in her life anyway?

"Apparently we have amazingly loud sexual escapades," Natasha said dryly finally giving in to his infectious mood just a bit.

"Oh I bet we would," Clint snickered as he reread the hilarious note. He paused as he felt a warm hand come down to rest on his head – it calmed him down immediately.

"Are you done?" she asked quietly. He nodded in a slight daze.

"Yeah…" he breathed. Natasha gave him an unreadable look before she promptly knocked his gun out of his grasp, twirled it into her own hand and whacked it against his head with the butt of it. Clint gaped as he held his head in shock more than pain.

"Tasha!" he cried in disbelief.

"Shut up – you're laugh was starting to get on my nerves. I'm going to sleep now," she said frankly before she flicked the safety back on and unceremoniously chunked his gun on the couch before she stalked towards his room – _his room_. He kept the warmth he was feeling out of his voice as he continued his mock sulking.

"Tasha you are one sick cruel beast of a woman," he muttered.

"That's getting old Barton. If you don't stop I'm going to start calling you Princess Belle," she said warningly. Clint's face twisted into an honest disgusted look.

"I'm not _French_!" was the first thing that came out of his mouth. Natasha raised a well groomed eyebrow. _That_ was the first thought that occurred to him in his big fat head?

"So you're not denying you're like a high school drama queen right?" she deadpanned. Clint scowled at her.

"I hate you Romanoff. Sometimes I hate you so god damn much," he said seriously. She drove him _insane_. Natasha didn't even bat an eyelash.

"Me too Clint," she whispered giving him a ghost of a smile. Clint tensed. He didn't know if she meant what _he_ really meant or if she actually agreed that she hated herself too. He instantly lost the scowl as he stared at her. For a long moment all she did was stare back evenly – she would never be the one to look away first.

One day he was going to outstare Natasha Romanoff. Today he was going to make her falter in her iron conviction to not let him in too deep.

"There's more to life than adrenaline, missions, assassinations, guns and blood, Natasha," he said softly tracing the edge of her hairline where the mark of the serious concussion he gave her not even a day ago used to be. Due to her enhancers there wasn't even a trace of it – but _they_ knew it had been there. That was what mattered.

"Is there?" she asked quietly. Clint winced. She sounded so genuinely uncertain that it killed him inside.

"I don't know actually. I hope there is. Right now I'm trying to figure that out," he said as he threaded his fingers through her long red hair. He felt her hand creep up his side before she grabbed a fist full of his shirt and pressed her face against his shoulder. She inhaled his deep calming scent - he smelled like gunpowder and a hint if his faded musky cologne he hasn't used in a couple days – he smelled safe. She finally_, finally_ relaxed. She was safe.

"Let me know if you do find out," she requested quietly.

They didn't know how to live with each other and yet something kept telling them they should keep trying.

Something kept telling them not to let go.

'_Don't let me go yet' _echoed in the space between them.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**Ghosty chills anyone? I hope they don't give up on their relationship before it even started. XD I think I told you guys early on that their relationship is nowhere near stable right? **

**Told you there would be angst! THAT WAS THE LAST OF THE ANGST! That wasn't Natasha's past btw. It was like a little peek – but she hasn't told him about her years of training or some of the worst assignments she had to do. Or even her own nightmares. That is for later. Epic assassin bonding moment! Now off to write more happy chapters. Alicia is coming up next! **

**Hey batta batta, hey batta batta **_**swing**_**! :) **

**Excited?**


	84. Chapter 84

**I dare you **

**A/B: There is this one little guest reviewer who has been asking for fluff since Clint and Natasha infiltrated that trafficking base in Japan nearly 10 chapters ago. Well. THIS IS FOR YOU MY LITTLE FRIEND WHO NEVER STOPS ASKING FOR FLUFF! LOL **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 84 **

The first thought that entered Natasha's head when she slowly started to enter the world of the living was that she had not woken up once in the night. She _always_ wakes up several times.

That was _weird_.

The second thing she realized was that she didn't have any nightmares at all. Which was alarming in and of itself but on top of that she was feeling really, _really_ warm all over and that was just _not right_.

The third and most important thing she realized was that her back was pressed up against a hard warm chest, her head was tucked underneath a familiar chin and there were two rough arm wrapped around her waist and one hand under her shirt resting flat against her stomach.

Natasha inhaled a sharp breath. She has never woken up in a man's arms before.

Forget the fact that he was even _alive_.

Forget the fact that she didn't even slept with him.

Forget the fact that she didn't feel the burning need to _get the hell away from him_.

It was all surprisingly…nice. But just to make sure she didn't miss something last night…

Her eyes involuntarily shot down to peek under the covers and she sighed in relief when she realized they were both fully clothed and yeah he was definitely _alive_. She didn't castrate him in her sleep or something - fantastic start to a day.

She didn't kill her partner. _Woo who._

"Are you checking me out or are you really _that_ horrified of the thought of sleeping with me?" a sleepy voice grumbled in her ear. Natasha beat down the shiver that threatened to rack through her body and tried to gather as much of her self-control as she could muster.

She thought this would feel awkward - it did.

She thought this would feel new and terrifying - it did.

She thought this would feel dead, dead wrong - it _didn't_.

Under all the uncertainty – it felt nice. Really nice.

"You're the one who should be scared of sleeping with _me_ - no man has ever survived my bed," she said dryly. She felt him shift behind her and his grip around her waist tightened as he dragged her closer and he pressed his lips against the back of her neck. Natasha sighed in pleasure as he kissed his way down her neck.

"Should I felt honoured to be alive?" he grumbled against her shoulder.

"Very honoured," she said with a smirk before she twisted around in his arms to face him. They stared at each other for a while before he finally looked up at her hair – it was a cute mess.

"You have bed hair," he said quietly as he worked his hand through her messy red locks. She looked like a thorough mess. He liked it.

"So do you," she said dryly tugging at a piece of his short spiky bed hair. He grinned.

"You have more hair in general," he shot back. Natasha scoffed at him.

"Are you complaining? I'm not a celebrity that goes to sleep with perfect hair with their hairstylist sitting next to them and wakes up to the sound of their hair burning as said hairstylist does their slave-like jobs in the morning as well," Natasha said frankly. The only way anyone looks perfect all day and every day was if it was someone else's _job_.

Clint blinked.

He blinked again.

"I'm going to pretend I know what you said even if I have no damn idea," he deadpanned. Natasha slowly smirked at him – it made him more wary then a pack of blood thirsty hyenas chasing after him in Nigeria.

That was a horrible mission. He refused to think about it.

"You know what I just realized?" she whispered as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He glanced up at her as she brought his head down so that she could reach his ear. She could feel the anticipation simmering in his body and smirked evilly. She _really_ had a bad evil streak in her. "You really need to take a shower - _cause you smell like shit_," she deadpanned and promptly killed the moment. Clint _groaned_ and unceremoniously dropped his head onto the pillow beside her snickering head.

"You _suck_ Tasha!" he grumbled pathetically into the pillow as he dropped down heavily on top of her without giving a single shit about her tiny body - if Natasha wasn't strong enough to hold his weight he probably would've squashed her. Natasha inhaled a sharp breath as she felt his warm muscular body pressed firmly lined up along her own petite frame and she tightly gripped the sheets beside her in her fists to stop herself from slipping her hands under his SHIELD issued black shirt and feeling all the tight firm muscles she knew he hide beneath the material.

She had more control then this damn it.

"You're a baby," she muttered as she stared up at his ceiling while trying to control her uneven breath.

"You're a tease…," he grumbled in retaliation. He pulled back and glanced down at her flushed face and studied her odd expression. "…A tease who is getting _really_ turned on and I haven't even done anything," he added with a smug look. Natasha glowered at him.

"Get out of bed and go get cleaned after 4 days on mission you disgusting man!" Natasha growled before she promptly shoved him right off of her and caused him to tumble over the edge of the bed. Clint hit the floor face first with a _SMACK_.

"Fuck! That _hurt_!" he cried in pain as he held his stomach.

"_Good_," Natasha said as she fell back onto his pillow and sighed in relief. Her attraction to him was _unhealthy_.

"But this is _my_ bed!" he exclaimed as he pushed himself upright and stared at the redhead sprawled across in his sheets. The image was too much for his sex-deprived brain.

"Too bad I _stole_ it from you!" she said haughtily before she promptly gave him the finger.

Clint _scowled_ at her – she was so cheeky! If only SHIELD could see the Black Widow now – taking over a poor archer's bed and flashing him an inelegant hand gesture while giving him a dirty smirk that looked too damn kissable on her Russian face.

"Maybe I'll steal it back," he said ominously as he loomed over her. Natasha cocked an eyebrow right before he pounced on her.

"Nope! Shower!" Natasha laughed as she covered his mouth seconds before he could reach hers.

"_Tasha_," he whined against her hand.

"You _really_ need to take a shower and clean up Clint," Natasha said pushing him back. Clint sighed and finally gave up on his futile attempt to trick his partner into a kiss.

"I hate you…," he mumbled as he dragged himself into his lonely washroom. He turned around for one last attempt.

"Wanna come with-" _WAM_! He instantly got cut off by the fact that he technically _could not breath_.

Pillow.

In.

Assassin's.

Face.

"_No_ – then you'll never get clean!" she said insistently pointing to the bathroom room door. "March soldier march! Put your ex-military skills to use!" she said in a fake military officer voice.

She was _mocking_ him.

Clint gave her a dirty scowl before he angrily spun around and stomped away.

"And brush your teeth!" she called out at his retreating back. She snickered as he _slammed_ the door shut in irritation.

"Slave driver!" he bellowed through closed door. Natasha nearly fell over with the urge to laugh out loud – she has never felt like genuinely laughing this much in her _life_.

_Shamelessly_ frustrating him was her new favourite pass time. It was almost better than sparring!

_Almost_.

"If you ever dream of kissing me again you better brush them _really_ good agent Barton!" she shouted back.

She kind of meant it.

"_Shut up_ agent Romanoff you little Russian pain in my ass!" was the last insult she heard before the shower really _did_ turn on. Natasha snickered.

"You drive me crazy…," she mumbled quietly as she shook her head and started to push herself off his bed.

_Ring. Ring._

Natasha paused as she heard her SHIELD phone ringing from her mission pack by the door. She had a feeling she knew who it was too. She carefully walked over and fished her small sliver phone out of the bag.

"Hello?" she answered as she flipped the phone open.

"Good morning Agent Romanoff – I hope agent Barton is still alive," was the first thing agent Coulson's voice said warily. Natasha rolled her eyes.

Sheesh - after 9 months you'd think they'd stop worrying for his life.

If she had wanted him dead he was _be_ dead.

"He's still breathing…," she said easily slipping into her professional agent mode. Coulson sighed in relief. Natasha felt like scowling.

"Good. So do you remember our conversation from last night right?" he asked casually. Natasha's eyes darkened – there was _nothing_ casual about that.

Reality sucked.

"Are you going to try and threaten me again?" she asked warningly. Coulson sighed.

"No. I was just wondering if you had reconsidered," he said seriously. Natasha sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Coulson. They're not going to find anything. The enhancers are untraceable. Why do you think they didn't see them during my initial checkup when Barton brought me in?" Natasha asked tiredly. She heard him shuffle around in what was likely his office and heard a door slam shut and a lock click into place. SHIELD was not exactly a safe place to have private conversations.

"I know – but they didn't know what they were looking for. They do now," Coulson said vaguely. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"How the hell do they know _now_?" she asked suspiciously.

"While you two were fraternizing my ears off, I snooped around Barnes' lab and found a few other samples of the enhancers. How long is each dosage supposed to last?" Coulson asked seriously. Natasha scowled at the phone when he said fraternizing but answered anyway.

"1 year," she muttered. Coulson took a deep breath.

"So what were you going to do at the end of this year if they didn't clock out early?" he asked the burning question.

_Silence_.

"Natasha don't tell me you lied to me," Coulson said warningly. Natasha rubbed her temples in frustration.

"I was going to take a short leave of absence…," she said tightly. Coulson gripped the edge of his desk.

"Official or unofficial?" he asked cautiously. Natasha winced.

"Probably the second one…," she said warily.

_Silence_.

"He would have hunted you down and strangled you for disappearing on us," Coulson said firmly. If she ran Barton would be on her _ass_. Natasha glared at the bathroom door.

"I'd like to see him try," she growled darkly. No one could keep her here if she didn't want to be here. _No one_ - when she decides she is ready to leave – she was _going_ to leave. Coulson took a calming breath and leaned his forehead against the wall.

"Would you have come back?" he asked quietly. Natasha's glare faltered. Come back?

"…Maybe," she said with a sigh. Coulson tensed.

"Why maybe? Why not for certain?" he asked rigidly. God she was talking about doing exactly what he was afraid of in the first place! She was planning on leaving Barton on the fly just like he asked her not to!

Phil Coulson makes very scarily accurate predictions.

"I might not have found the enhancers in time before I clocked out and reverted to Natalia. Barnes might have _actually_ wanted me dead. Red Room is still periodically sending dispatchers on my tail – there are a lot of reasons why I might not have been able to come back. Period," Natasha said seriously. Her possibility of dying had been extremely high – she did the math in her head. It wasn't giving her nice numbers.

"It'd kill him," Coulson said quietly. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"No it wouldn't. You're all overdramatic at SHIELD – he would get over me eventually. I'm not that important and he is not some whipped codependent pathetic child. See it from _my_ perspective now Coulson because I listened through yours. I was just a target he spared during a mission and I became his partner because he was the man I owed a debt and he asked me to be. He made a good offer – I understand it was supposed to be permanent but I put a time limit on it without him knowing. So what? I was the enemy - you should have expected that and you did Coulson – bravo, you are truly one of the _only_ competent agents in this shit organization. A year as partners while working assassination jobs for a random intelligence organization was nothing for me and hardly supposed to have any impact on him. I wanted out of my life and he was there like a damn free pass. If I didn't _truly_ want to come in – I wold have knocked him out after we landed in America and disappeared the next day," Natasha said seriously. There was a long, long silence at the other end of the phone as Coulson processed what exactly Romanoff's thinking process was when she joined SHIELD. She had a damn plan for everything.

She was a tactical genius – that nearly screwed them all over.

"What about all that things that happened _after_? What about your mission in Italy? You two came back practically falling all over each other. Granted you're good actors – but _you_ were too relaxed and that was the ultimate dead giveaway. The second I saw his face I knew you gave him what he wanted. Natasha you would have royally screwed him over if you didn't return his feelings. Do you understand? Screwed. Him. Over. Was any of that part of your _grand_ master plan to escape your past?" Coulson asked tensely. How could she play him like that if she was planning on leaving this whole time? Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"No. That wasn't part of the plan. There weren't supposed to be any emotions involved. He was _supposed_ to be a random American agent I used to get the Red Room off my tail. I needed out of the country and a semi-aided legal defection was nice. He was _supposed_ to be a tool. I wasn't even planning on _talking_ to him during our partnership. I gave him the cold shoulder for a long time. None of this was part of the plan," Natasha said tiredly. She didn't want to get involved with him in the first place – that was the _real_ why she rebuked all his advances in the beginning.

She never planned to _stay_ his partner.

"What's the plan now?" Coulson asked carefully. Natasha sighed and ran her hand through her hair like he does often when he got frustrated. She paused and stared at her hand – she was picking up his bad habits too.

She had it _bad_.

"There _is_ no plan - I'm just taking everything one day at a time now," she said quietly. This was the first time in her life she didn't have a plan – it was mostly because she didn't think she wanted one. For once she didn't _actually_ want to go anywhere. Natasha leaned back against the bedframe and she stared up at his ceiling and loosely curled her fist around his pillow.

She _liked_ where she was – it was the only reason she hasn't disappeared like she planned.

"You seem like the type of person to always know what they're going to do next Natasha," Coulson said tiredly staring at his desk. Dealing with agents with motives as unclear as Natasha's always drained his energy.

You never know what you're going to get from a wild card.

Coulson expected a lot of scenarios – but he sure as hell wasn't expecting what _actually_ happened.

Maim Barton?

_Sure. _

Shoot Barton?

_Very, very likely. _

Dead Barton?

_Definite possibility. _

Motherfucking compromised beyond belief?

_Who would've thought?_

"I _am_ that type of person. I had a plan…and now I don't. And I don't want one," she said quietly.

"Why? What changed your mind?" Coulson asked warily – even if they all knew the answer.

"People change…or more likely _other_ people change you," she said softly.

Clint sat on the bathroom floor with his back against the door as the shower water ran cold without him in it.

He didn't know if he should feel happy that she eventually decided to stay because of him or sad that she had always been planning on leaving in the first place. He sort of felt a mixture of both.

If Natasha didn't genuinely like him where on earth would they be?

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**Barton's ANSWER:** Running across world with Barton chasing after her and dragging her ass back to SHIELD with her kicking and screaming and biting his arm obviously. Duh.

**A/N: Oops sorry! Alicia is very soon! I just cut the 7,000 word chapter in half. I'll post the other half tomorrow. Bye! **


	85. Chapter 85

**I dare you**

**A/N: YES. Alicia is here – after some Clintasha. ENJOYO :)REAL FLUFF. Apparently the last chapter was still angst in some of your books :P  
**

**Chapter 85 **

15 minutes after her call with Coulson Barton was still in the shower and Natasha was finally fed up. He had been in there for nearly half an hour.

"Barton get out! You are like a teenage girl primping for prom night! I told you to take a shower - not sit there and do god knows what men do in washrooms!" she shouted as she banged her fist against the bathroom door. She had a murderous look on her face when the door finally swung open to reveal a freshly shaved and showered Clint Barton in loose cargo pants and a white T shirt practically hanging off his shoulders. She was so pissed she missed the unreadable expression on his face.

"God damn it Barton – why do you take so long-" she started to fume when he took a sudden step forward, grabbed her around the waist, picked her up and slammed their lips together. Natasha froze as he poured an intense amount of emotions into the firm overwhelming kiss. She felt him grip her waist tighter as he kept the kiss intense and had her head reeling. If he was anyone else she would have _stabbed_ him by now for restraining her in his arms like he was right now. Instead Natasha narrowed her eyes but carefully kissed him back making sure he could feel her confusion loud and clear. She was damn sure he could see the burning question in her eyes but he just ignored them as he stared right back at her.

If she could breathe in that moment she thinks she might have lost it anyway. When she felt her head start to spin due to the lack of oxygen he finally pulled back and took a deep ragged breath before his heated eyes melted over into the calmest expression she had ever seen.

It was his calm sniper mode face.

"Let's make breakfast," he said simply as he put her back down onto the ground and calmly walked out of his room. Natasha stood there for several minutes as she tried to catch her breath and stared at the spot he just took her breath away on.

"What was _that_?" she whispered suspiciously - even if she had a very good guess for why he did that.

Sometimes she didn't know which one of them was better at saying a million things without saying a word at all. She narrowed her eyes as she calmed down her rapid heart rate. She was pretty damn sure he hadn't been in the shower for a full 30 minutes. She debated on getting pissed but then she just sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose as she followed him out of the room. Apparently there was no such thing as damn privacy when you're in a relationship with a spy.

Not that she was above listening in on his conversations either - so she couldn't really complain.

5 minutes later Natasha Romanoff found herself sitting on the kitchen counter as Clint Barton did one of the many shocking things he was good at - _he could make breakfast_. Specifically flipping pancakes that didn't look like death warmed over.

She could make anything look like death warmed over - it wasn't always a good thing. It was one of the reasons she kept him alive - no jokes. She was dead serious. She would probably die because she couldn't feed herself.

The Black Widow - death by self-inflicted starvation. _Yeah, that would look fantastic on my SHIELD file_ she thought sarcastically. Damn she was even sarcastic in her own head.

However, she stayed out of his way because if she tried to help him she would probably cause an explosion and kill two of the best assassins in the world - by accident.

"Pass me the milk," he asked calmly as he made his second batch of pancakes beside her.

"I don't know how you do it Barton. I can't cook for _shit,_" she muttered as she handed him the requested item. Clint smiled warmly at her - she tried to ignore that fact that no one has ever looked at her like that before.

"I know. You burnt enough toast to prove it. Good thing I can cook – otherwise we would have starved months ago," he said with a chuckle – he was only _half_-joking. Natasha huffed.

"Whatever. That is what frozen dinners are for. And easily cut fruits. I can cut fruits fine," she said as she stabbed a strawberry from the bowl beside her with the cutting knife and popped it into her mouth.

Natasha gave an undignified squeak when Clint promptly kissed her the second the strawberry disappeared between her lips and it was the most awkward 3 seconds of her life because she literally _couldn't kiss him back_ - even if she wanted to. Then he pulled back as fast as he had attacked her and she blinked in shock at what he did.

"Did you just steal my strawberry from my _mouth_?" Natasha asked in disbelief. Clint chewed victoriously and grinned as he swallowed his prize.

"Tastes even better than normal – it tastes like you," he said with a wink. Natasha scowled at him.

"That is _disgusting_! Вы отвратительны! It had my spit all over it!" Natasha said in disgust. Clint leaned against the counter across from her scowling face and gave her cute overreaction a long look.

"Natasha, if you thought spit was unpleasant why do you even _like_ kissing me?" he asked dryly. Natasha huffed and instantly looked away.

That was a _stupidass_ question.

"Food is different…," she muttered. He rolled his eyes.

"Now you're just making up excuses to argue with me. Sheesh woman sometimes I think you get off by bitching at me," Clint said with a snort. Natasha was about to shove her fist in his face for his comment when she smelled something funny in the air.

"You're pancakes are burning…," she said warily. Clint froze.

"Oh shit _my babies_!" he cried as he dived to save the fluffy burnt circle of fluff. Alas he was not able to save the burning pancake and he stared at his blackened results. Natasha hopped off the counter and peeked over his shoulder. She snickered.

"You killed your baby," she said from over his shoulder.

"No shit Russian detective," he muttered. Natasha rolled her eyes and picked up the bowl with more pancake batter.

"Mourn your losses later – I'm hungry," she said shoving the bowl into his hands. Clint snorted and promptly tossed the burnt pancake into the trash bin beside them.

"If you're so hungry flip the damn thing yourself - I'm not your maid," he muttered. He just lost a child! Tasha was so cruel. Natasha narrowed her eyes in challenge.

"Fine! Teach me," she said booting him out of the way with her hip and standing in front of the stove with a determined look on her face. She instantly felt warm arms wrap around her waist and the pancake mix bowl was shoved into her hands.

"Usually it's the girl who teaches the guy how to cook and survive on more than just take out," he whispered in her ear. Natasha snorted.

"I think I'd kill you if you ate my cooking," she said dryly. She closed her eyes as he chuckled in her ear and felt the sound vibrate through her body as he was pressed up against her back. She used to find his laughter so _uncomfortable_ when he was hugging her in the past – now she found it made her feel like she finally had something solid to hold onto in her life.

"I think it'd kill me too," he said with a grin. Natasha scoffed and picked up the spatula and gripped it like she was about to _stab_ someone. Clint hid his smile behind her shoulder.

Oh this was going to be good.

5 minutes later two assassins were sitting at a tiny little kitchen table - one redheaded assassin was scowling at her food while the other dark haired assassin was grinning like a crazy person at her.

"Why are you even trying to eat that thing?" Natasha muttered irritably as she poked the perfect warm brown pancake that _he_ made sitting on her plate and looked up to eye the blackened, nearly _radioactive_, crispy mess on his own plate suspiciously.

She was a crap cook. Her cooking could kill people faster than her bullets - and that was saying something.

"Why waste food?" he asked with a shrug. Natasha instantly put her fork down.

He was going to _die_ if he ate that disaster.

"It looks terrible," she said guardedly. Clint nodded.

"Yup," he said simply as he covered it with a mountain full of maple syrup.

"It smells terrible," she said scrunching up her nose in distaste.

"Yup," he said frankly - it smelled like charcoal.

"It probably _tastes_ terrible!" Natasha exclaimed in disbelief.

"Yes – and _you_ made it," he said calmly.

Natasha promptly shut up, stuffed a forkful of his pancake in her mouth and stubbornly stared out the window as she beat down a burning blush that threatened to take over her face – if she wasn't an expert at controlling her body the red would have _actually_ showed on her face. All he got to see was the slight strain on her focused expression. The fact that he could make her work _that_ hard to keep it off her face though was enough.

He smiled from behind his cup of coffee.

He did _good_.

"So what are we doing today?" he asked calmly.

"I have to go to SHIELD…," Natasha muttered as she angrily stabbed her pancake with her fork. Clint watched her warily as she glared daggers at his pancake. He was pretty sure she was imagining Coulson's face.

His partner's intense desire to kill his best friend and their handler was kind of disturbing - just a bit.

"Medical?" he asked carefully.

"Yeah," she grumbled.

"Well that is going to be fun. We can bring a magazine or something. Or we can hijack a SHIELD tablet and play Galaga – apparently it's a popular game on base," Clint said adding an unholy amount of sugar to his coffee because it wasn't sweet enough for him.

_Silence_.

Clint furrowed his brow and glanced up to see Natasha giving him an uncomfortable look.

"What?" he asked slowly.

"I'm going…by myself," she said trying not to wince at the look on his face.

"Why?" he asked narrowing his eyes. Natasha glared back.

"Barton...it's suspicious when your partner is _that_ invested your health...," Natasha said carefully. Clint scoffed.

"That's not true! Partners should be worried about each other's wellbeing!" he protested. Natasha sighed.

"It's a full body checkup," she finally just said it. Clint winced. _Oh_.

"Everything...?" he asked cautiously.

"Everything," she said warily.

"So it would be weird if I hung around base and just happened-"

"Clint, stop talking," she said flatly. If he went it was practically _declaring_ that he was emotionally compromised. Clint sighed and leaned his forehead against the cool kitchen table.

"I really hate that you are a girl sometimes," he muttered into the wooden surface. He could perfectly imagination the blank look on her face as she stared at him.

"Are you trying to tell me you're gay?" she asked frankly. Clint's head shot up and he scowled at her.

"_No_ - I'm very straight and I really don't dream about kissing men. That is disgusting – no offence to you know to…um yeah…," he trailed off as he scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Anyway, I didn't even used to dream about women either. I've only started having dirty dreams because of _you_ - thanks a lot for that," he said sarcastically. Natasha snickered and picked up her bitter black coffee.

"My pleasure," she said smugly as she took a sip. Clint made a face - black coffee was _disgusting_.

"Evil Russian beast," he muttered. Natasha's expression suddenly looked suspiciously apologetic.

He blinked – Natasha was _never_ apologetic.

"Oh, did I hurt Princess Belle's little dainty girly feelings?" she asked innocently. He narrowed his eyes – acting. Insulting acting to boot.

"I find it really disturbing and a heavy blow to my man pride that I am the damsel in distress in this scenario," he muttered grumpily. Natasha snorted and promptly broke character.

"If you want someone to stroke your man ego you're with the wrong Russian assassin," she said frankly with a shrug. She broke men's egos – not inflate them. Clint eyed her with an odd look.

"Don't worry. I have other ways of keeping it intact and rather large," he said flashing her a dirty suggestive smirk. Natasha scowled at him. That bastard. _That flirty bastard._

"I can bring your ego down a notch if you want me to," she said carefully spinning the butter knife in her hand. Clint grinned from behind his cup.

"Trust me - no matter how times you kick my ass my ego will come out unscratched even if _I_ might not," he said with a shrug. Natasha gave him a suspicious look.

"I think the little coffee you're having with your _sugar_ is getting to your head," she said staring at the disgustingly sweet sugar infested cup in his hand. Clint scoffed indignantly.

"At least I don't drink bitter coffee that is as black as the devil's _soul_," he muttered as he childishly drink his sugar with coffee. He picked up his fork and tried to take a stab at his burnt pancakes when a butter knife beat him to it and _stabbed_ the pancakes in the heart and nearly broken the plate in half.

He blinked.

He blinked again and glanced up to give the Russian currently stabbing his food a pointed look.

"Don't eat that," she said seriously.

"Why not?" he asked irritably.

"I don't really feel like dragging your ass to a hospital," she muttered as she picked up her fail pancake and whipped it into the sink. Clint huffed in indignation.

"Hey! I wanted to eat that!" he scowled at her. Natasha promptly shoved her _eatable_ plate full of pancakes in front of him.

"Don't die today Barton - at least let me shoot you so you die in battle or something heroic like that," she sighed as she retracted her weapon and started craving odd Russian words into their table. He curiously glanced down and read her Russian words upside down.

_Bastard._

_Archers. _

_Death wish._

_Execution courtesy of Natasha Romanoff. _

"Not cute - not cute at all," he muttered as he took a bite of her pancakes. Natasha rolled her eyes.

"So what _are_ you going to do while I'm busy for a few hours?" she asked carefully – she didn't think he would stay cooped up here all day.

Clint glanced down at his watch and out the window – it was _actually_ a sunny day – one that he wasn't going to be able to spend with _her_. Life sucked. She would tell him to suck it up and deal with it.

_Damn_ he already had an inner Natasha voice in his head – that was a bad sign.

"I'm going to go give someone some baseball lessons I promised," he muttered.

.

.

.

._** Excited? Someone is excited right?**_

.

.

.

"Hey batta, batta. Hey batta, batta _swing_!" a cheerful voice called out with a slight Spanish accent. Clint snorted and punched a small baseball in his left hand into the baseball glove he wore on his left.

"You don't even know _how_ to swing!" he called back down the baseball diamond. He watched amusement flicker across green eyes that always reminded him so much of his partner.

"So why don't you teach me like you promised last weekend?" she teased good-humoredly. Clint rolled his eyes.

"I told you Alicia, I was in Italy last week," he said with a sigh. He didn't control if his missions were on weekends. The little 9 year kid stood on her mat and practiced her swing a few times before he threw her the ball again.

"So where'd you go _this_ week?" she asked as she watched the baseball in his hand intently. He slowly tossed the ball towards her. She swung wildly and completely missed the ball while causing her baseball helmet mask to slam down over her face.

"Japan," he said quietly. Alicia pushed the mask up and furrowed her brow at his tone.

"Can you tell me what you did?" she asked slowly. Clint's faraway expression instantly disappeared.

"Nope," he said with a look that said - _nice try though_. Alicia huffed.

"That sucks. I always tell you about my week! Yours is always so much more interesting!" she said as she picked up the baseball and threw it back at him. He caught it easily and crouched down to throw it back to her.

"That's part of this whole deal Alicia. You really don't want to know everything I do during my week," Clint said warily as she raised her bat to try again.

"Did you kill anyone?" she asked suddenly.

The ball instantly fell from his hand as he was startled by the forwardness of her question.

"_Alicia_!" Clint exclaimed in shock. Sheesh she had no filter did she?

"You did!" Alicia said with a laugh. Clint stared at her as he shook his head. Crazy girl.

"Stop talking about disturbing things kid and swing your bat," Clint said firmly. He refused to talk about his assassinations with a 9 year old.

"_Ugh_. I can't do it. Come show me how again," she muttered holding out the bat to him. Clint rolled eyes and walked across the field to give her another lesson on proper bat swinging.

"For a genius you suck as sports," he said frankly as he pushed her onto the batting mat and helped her reset her position. Alicia eyed him with a scowl.

"Careful. I can hack SHIELD files and change your official birth name to Fufu Marshmallow," Alicia warned. Clint snorted as he fixed her hand grip on the bat and bent her knees for her. They both ignored the reality that she probably could - but SHIELD didn't need to know that.

"Fufu marshmallow? Do I look like a marshmallow to you?" he asked playfully. Alicia huffed.

"I don't know. You don't look like a hawk either," she said with a shrug. Clint's face darkened slightly but he quickly shook it off.

"I have a really good shot," he said simply while brushing her short black hair out of her eyes. Alicia blew the hair out of her eyes herself when it fell back down and gripped her bat tightly.

"What if I said I wanted to be an assassin too?" she asked suddenly. Clint tensed and felt his blood pressure skyrocket.

_Never going to happen as long as he was alive. _

"I would lock you up and you'd never see the light of day," Clint said darkly. Alicia gave him a wary look - he was half serious.

"Fine. What if I said I want to be an analyst? The people who do the ground work and gather the data for important missions?" she said as she tried another approach. Clint shook his head and sighed.

"Why are you so hung up on working for people like SHIELD Alicia? Why don't you aim to be a lawyer or a doctor or the damn president of the United States?" Clint asked worriedly. Anything but the world he was trapped in forever. _Anything_. Alicia shrugged.

"You work for SHIELD," she pointed out. Clint huffed.

"That doesn't mean _you_ should," Clint said seriously. Alicia watched the worry lurk in his eyes and sighed.

"You're a hypocrite," she said tiredly. Clint didn't even flinch.

"I know," he said quietly before he stood up and walked back to his pitcher spot.

"I'm going to grow up someday you know. If I want to join SHIELD at 18 you can't stop me!" she said seriously. Clint sighed as he turned around and rolled the baseball in his hand.

"Don't grow up too fast Alicia," he said softly. Alicia's green eyes hardened like a 9 year old's _never_ should.

"Too late. My dead father already forced me to. It's not fun being an orphan at 9 Clint," she said burning a hole into the ground. Clint took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"I know what you mean. Trust me, I know," he said quietly. Alicia suddenly looked up when she realized what he meant.

"_Oh_...I'm sorry. I didn't know… I thought...," she trailed off hesitantly. Clint shook his head and waved off her apology.

"It's okay. I'm an orphan too Alicia," he said with a sympathetic smile. Alicia poked the ground in front of her with her bat and lowered her eyes as she debated on whether she should ask her next question.

"How important are parents?" she asked hesitantly. Clint stared at the baseball in his hand and seriously considered her question. He was the wrong person to ask about family.

"I don't really know. I lost mine when I was 7," he said quietly.

"Do you remember them?" Alicia asked glancing up at the sky. She wondered if she'll forget as she gets older.

"I do," he said vaguely. Alicia furrowed her brow.

"Did you love them?" she asked quietly. A shadow crossed Clint's face.

"Everyone should love their parents Alicia...," Clint said avoiding her direct question. She noticed.

"You didn't answer my question," she said softly. Clint took a deep breath and ran his hand through his messy wind swept hair.

"My childhood wasn't a nice place Alicia. I don't really know if anyone loved me when I young. It's hard to love the people who neglected you," he said staring at the ground. Alicia's eyes saddened.

"So no one has ever told you they loved you?" she asked sadly. Clint chuckled at the sad truth of his life.

"No - not that I remember. But I grew up and came out alright Alicia. It's okay," he said reassuringly. Alicia stared at him for a long moment - long enough that he was starting to wonder what she was thinking as she stood there with an odd look on her face. He was just about to ask her what was wrong when her face softened unexpectedly.

"_I_ love you Clint," she said sincerely.

Clint froze as her words rang in his ears and caused his heart to nearly feel like it was being yanked out of his chest. He felt a warm feeling fill a part of his chest he didn't know was cold for so many years. He didn't even realize he had been waiting for someone to say that to him for his entire life.

"T-thank you. I love you too Alicia," he said trying not to choke on his words and start crying like a little kid. He was a damn assassin! But a cute little kid just told him she loved him - and there was honestly nothing he could do to stop his eyes from becoming a little misty.

"Now we both have someone who loves us," Alicia said seriously. Clint felt lightheaded as all the emotion clouded his head.

"Damn Alicia you're about to make a grown man cry," Clint muttered as he quickly rubbed his eyes. Alicia faltered.

"Sorry?" she said hesitantly. Clint laughed softly.

"Nah it's okay. Thank you Alicia. Ready to take another swing?" he said holding up the ball. Alicia grinned and got into position as she bent her knees. Clint carefully threw the ball and hoper she'd actually manage to land a hit this time.

_CRACK_!

Clint instantly dropped to the ground on reflex as the ball came right at him and flew out of the park. Alicia gaped.

"Oh my god...oh my god I hit the ball! I hit the ball!" she exclaimed as she jumped up and down excitedly. Clint smiled warmly at her.

"Yeah you did!" he said as he watched the ball fly through the air and promptly crash through a blacked out window of a second story widow. They both stared with their mouths open.

"Oh..._shit_," Clint said under his breath.

"A really cranky cat lady lives there...," Alicia said in horror. They both locked eyes and froze as they heard a high pitch shriek behind them.

"You darn kids just wait till I come out there and teach you a lesson!" an old cranky voice shrieked. Alicia and Clint both paled.

"Run for your _life_!" she shouted as she promptly dropped her bat and shot across the field. Clint snickered.

"Home run before we die?" he said with a laugh as he watched her race around the 3 bases for fun before she waved at the exit and flew out of the park.

"I'm not going to be taken out by an old lady!" Alicia scoffed as she peaked around the corner and watched the old granny hobble down the street likely to come beat them with her cane. Clint picked up the bat and followed after her with a fond look in his eyes. He was going to make sure she kept smiling. He never wanted Alicia to end up like him and Natasha. He had 9 years to convince her to do anything except join SHIELD.

Too bad he had a sinking feeling that even if they weren't related she was even more stubborn then him and Natasha combined.

She had the balls to love an assassin after all.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: ****Did you like the little Alicia moment?** **Haha I think Natasha has some serious competition. Alicia just stole Clint Barton's heart**! **Oh no! How will Clintasha go on?** **LOL. **

**Clintasha date coming up soon! (They have NEVER been on a date even if they have been together for nearly 33 chapters) Ha ha can you believe they've only been together for like 2 weeks in story time?**

**BUT. Before a date – you got to ask the girl out. And how the hell do you ask a Russian assassin out on a date? Wanna take a guess on how he does it? Clint Barton style. XD LOL? **

**IMPORTANT: OKay so there is confusion with the type of story this is and I want to make it very clear that this is strictly a T RATED fic. So I might write nice make out scenes - but I refuse to write real smut. Sorry. They might sleep together eventually - but it's going to be a cut scene. Before and after type thing. If anyone wants to write a side story for that scene...let me know. XD But I'm not going to be writing it. This story isn't about smut - it's about two assassins trying to learn about each other - I only mention sex because it is something important that should be mentioned in a mature relationship. But my skills are in action and raw emotions :) that is what I like writing about. **

**If I disappoint you I'm sorry :( **

**But thank you for reading this far! Leave me a review if you liked the story so far!  
**

(¯`v´¯)

¸.•´¸.•*• ƸӜƷ

ღ°•. .•° Clintasha °•. .•°ღ


	86. Chapter 86

**I dare you **

**A/N: Time to stir some trouble at SHIELD! Woo.**

**Chapter 86**

Several hours after Clint had dropped Alicia off at her school he was not so subtly sneaking into the SHIELD base through one of the discreet back entrances. He used his own agent passcard so he wasn't being quite as stealthy as he would be on a mission - but the last time he successfully snuck onto base unannounced he had 20 agents pointing heavy loaded guns at him like a damn firing squad.

He could have done some fancy maneuvers and probably gotten out of that one alive - but that wasn't what truly terrified him.

The scariest thing in this base was agent Hill in stick up her ass royally pissed -_going to eat Barton alive_- mode. Natasha was _tame_ compared to the horrors that Hill inflicted on their agents. At least Natasha would just eventually become impatient and shoot him point blank after she thoroughly beat the crap out of him.

Hill (the devil in female form) would torture him for months - _with paperwork. _The best way to install fear in the hearts of SHIELD agents is through the threat of being put on probation and having to deal with the mountains of paperwork that awaits the poor mission banned was almost as scary as Fury.

_Almost_.

Currently Clint Barton was silently crawling his way through the many vents that ran along the ceiling on base with only one destination mind.

_Medical_.

Barton hated medical with a passion. He avoided it like the plague and tried to escape as often as possible when his ass did end up there on the rare occasion. It was a sad, sad day when he realized that medical was the only place he wanted to be at the moment.

Damn the shit this woman did to him.

_Buzz. Buzz._

Clint paused in his undignified military crawl.

"Oh please don't be who I think it is," he grumbled as he fished out his phone out from his pocket and glanced down at the caller ID.

Clint paled. He frantically weighed the pros and cons of pretending not to have his phone with him to be able to answer when he got a text message that appeared in bold letters.

_'If you don't answer your cell Agent Barton I will send you on an Intel gathering mission in the Sahara desert for 3 weeks and you will come back a shriveled up red Iowan archer with sand in places sand should never be,'_

_- H _

Clint banged his head against the metal floor and pressed the answer button.

It was the _devil_.

"What do you _want_ from me Hill?" he said in a defeated tone with his face still pressed up against the metal.

"Barton - why are you sneaking around the vents in my base like an enemy infiltrator?" was the first thing he heard from the last voice he wanted to speak with right now. He groaned and repeatedly banged his head against the metal floor again.

"How the hell did you know I was here? Actually how did you even know it was _me_ in here?" Clint asked suspiciously. No one saw him slip away from the crowd. He heard her sigh in an exasperated way - the one that always got on his nerves.

"You always forget I am an agent too you know. And considering you actually survive your missions I'm assuming you didn't really care if you got caught on camera disappearing into a closet and never coming back out," Hill said frankly. Clint winced. _Busted_. By his least favorite boss no less.

"Damn - I didn't think security would catch that if I made it casual enough," he muttered. Apparently he would have to be more vigilant on his next infiltration of SHIELD.

"I'm smarter then all of the idiots in security combined," she said flatly. Clint sighed - he didn't doubt that. He's known her for a long time. She was one of the sharpest agents in SHIELD and one of the only few to actually have enough patience and desire to go up the preverbal career ladder.

Clint had the patience to sit still for hours on end - but he sure as hell didn't have the patience to deal with the council's demands and run an intelligence home base without having a stress induced meltdown. He just wasn't built for constant negotiations that go back and forth for _months_. He made quick decisions and usually stuck with them until they did more harm than good. Hill had her job and he had his - sometimes simplicity was what made his world go round.

"That's why they practically bow to you when you walk by," he muttered. He heard her snort and from the sharp click of her boots hitting the cold floor he knew she was going somewhere - going somewhere _fast_.

"Are you going to tell me what you're doing at all?" she asked carefully. Clint coughed into his fist.

"Not if I can avoid it...?" he said warily. He heard Hill pause as she stared at her phone.

"Should I take a good guess?" she asked frankly. Clint donned a doomed face.

He hated this woman with a _passion_.

"I'd prefer if you just conveniently forgot I was here and let me continue my mini-mission?" he tried feebly. He heard her scoff in disbelief.

Well, it was worth a shot.

"Are you trying to spy on a spy Barton?" Hill asked tiredly. Doomed.

"Well that was the plan until you came along...," he muttered childishly. Hill sighed.

"She'll kill you," she said point blank. Clint scowled at his phone.

"Do you have no faith in my agent skills at all?" Clint asked incredulously.

"Nigeria," she said flatly. Clint nearly gave himself a concussion.

"I fucking _hate_ you," he groaned. He heard her tense instantly. He had gone too far.

"Careful Barton - I'm still your superior," Hill said sharply. Clint grumbled something along the lines of _superiors with super superiority complexes_. Hill narrowed her eyes.

"What was that Clint Barton? Was that you offering to teach junior agents combat lessons for a few weeks on base?" Hill said threateningly. Clint paled.

Junior hell?

"_No_! And she won't see me," he added firmly.

"Oh yes she will," Hill said confidently. Clint huffed.

"Well I'll just have to prove you wrong," Clint grumbled.

"You're pathetic Barton," he heard her say in the phone and the sound echoed from somewhere directly below him as well. He glanced down through the metal vent opening in the floor and locked eyes with his unimpressed looking superior.

Damn she was good.

"Hey boss - how ya doing?" he asked casually cupping his face in his hand and flashing

his most _charming_ smile.

She gave him the death stare.

His smile faltered.

"Get out of my base and stop stalking your partner," Hill said flatly. Clint rolled his eyes.

"Yes Sir," he said with a sigh as he continued his determined crawl through the vents.

10 minutes later an exhausted Clint Barton had finally managed to stumble across the right examination room in the medical wing - despite what he told Hill. They both knew he wasn't leaving until he saw his partner.

He silently peeked through the opening of the vent, making sure not to breathe too loudly least she heard him and castrated him 100 times over. She was sitting cross legged on an examination bed still dressed in her civilian clothes. She was glaring daggers at the IV stabbing her right arm and periodically shooting murderous looks at the closed door every few minutes as the IV pumped murky white fluid into and out of her body.

He smiled - he was pretty sure she was imagining how she would kill her doctor slowly and painfully. He was also rather certain she was imagining how satisfying it would be to use the IV to do it.

He'd be a hypocrite if he said he hasn't thought of doing the same thing while be cooped up in medical himself.

Assassins and doctors just don't see eye to eye.

Doctor says 2 weeks bed rest and assassin will be like _I'll shoot you before the end of this week_.

He was pretty sure she would try to shoot _him_ if she caught him here - Natasha was dramatic like that. He tried not to feel like a creepy stalker - he failed. Damn you Hill. Damn you to hell.

He laid there on the metal vent floor for a few minutes to watch his pretty but insane and deadly partner rigidly sit on her designated medical bed and drive herself stir crazy. It had been a chaotic week for them and he was just happy they were both still alive and _mostly_ sane.

If he accidentally got a _really_ nice view down her shirt - well that was just the icing on the cake. Clint mentally slapped himself - she'd _stab_ him for his slightly perverse thoughts.

He furrowed his eyes as he watched Natasha close her eyes and take a few deep breaths before the tension in her agitated body drained away. That was an odd reaction to have in medical. Usually agents were in an antsy foul mood until the very moment they got to leave. Medical meant something was wrong - and physical fitness was one of the most highly prized skills for an operative. Lose any important senses or limbs and you're out of the field. No one is able to relax in medical. He was almost tempted to just leave before it was too late when he froze.

"Why are you here Clint?" she asked calmly without looking up. Clint fell flat on his face with a loud _thump_.

How do these women knows these things damn it?

"I got bored," he muttered in defeat. He saw the edge of her mouth twitch.

"So you decide you're going to spy on a base full of spies?" Natasha asked crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back against the wall as she stared at the door. Clint chuckled.

"No. I'm just here to spy on you," he said softly. Natasha snorted.

"You're doing a crap job at remaining undetected," she muttered. She could feel his 100 yard stare burning into her skull like an arrow already in the motions of piercing her heart. She knew for a fact that no one knew when Hawkeye's shot was coming - which meant his staring was deliberate.

"Not trying that hard," he said quietly. Natasha took another deep breath and he watched her grip suddenly tighten around the bed sheets she was gripping - tight enough for her knuckles to turn white. Her eyes finally flashed opened but she didn't look up.

"Go home," she said steadily. Clint tensed.

"Why?" he asked he felt alarms going off in his head. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Go home Barton," she said seriously. Clint stared at her like she was telling him the president of the United States just got assassinated by a rookie.

"Now you're kind of scaring me Tasha...," Clint said carefully. Natasha gritted her teeth as she stared at the door like her execution room lay behind it. The next thing Clint knew he was being shot at.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"What the _hell_ Natasha?" Clint hissed just before the examination room door burst open to reveal a woman dressed in SHIELD branded white coat with 3 agents flanking her lead.

"Agent Romanoff! Are you okay?" the doctor asked in worry.

Natasha was the picture of calm - except for the smoking gun in her hand.

"I'm perfectly fine. I was just trying to get rid of some of the pests," she said with a shrug. All 4 SHIELD employees stared at her.

"By shooting at them?" The doc deadpanned. Natasha's lips curved into a sharp dangerous smile.

"This place has rather large annoying rats nearly the size of a large bird - did you know that?" Natasha asked innocently tilting her head to the side. Her doctor stared at her like she had just grown a second head.

"Okay. Either you have just lost your mind agent or you're speaking in riddles," the doctor said blatantly.

"I haven't lost my mind doc - not yet," Natasha said with an odd tone in her voice and dark look in her eyes.

Meanwhile 6 feet above their heads Clint Barton was still froze with his back pressed up against the side of the vent and the deer caught in headlights look on his face. His hair was also smoking as he stared at the three bullets embedded in the ceiling of his vent.

_Holy shit.  
_  
"If I _did_ happen to lose my senses for only a moment and randomly shot the ceiling would I be carted off to psyche?" Natasha added as an afterthought. The tension in the door instantly skyrocketed.

"You can answer that question yourself Agent," her doctor said with a sigh as the agents behind her clicked the safety off their guns and motions for her to put down her weapon. Natasha gave them all the most unnerving smile in the history of dangerous assassin smiles.

She didn't need a gun to kill them.

The guns in the poor agents' hands started trembling - they knew that very well. Everyone knew of the Widow's reputation at SHIELD.

Clint made a hasty exit as he slipped away through the vents before she really did kill him. He didn't feel too bad for leaving her to face 3 load guns.

He feared more for those 3 agent's lives then her own. And above all the lives he feared for most - he feared for his _own_.

Because he knew he was going to get it when they were finally alone.

Shit.

.

.

.

.

.

In another part of the base agent Coulson was reading one of his many classified files as he walked into his dark office with his nose still in the folder.

"Good evening agent Coulson - I've been expecting you," a dark ominous voice said from deep within the dark room. Coulson paused when his hand on his gun and a suspicious look on his face. He instantly flipped on the light switch and stared at the man sitting in his chair.

Clint Barton sat back straight, hands clasped in front of him while resting on the table with an eye patching that looked suspiciously familiar and a brown mustache that he could _not_ have grown in the last 24 hours since Coulson saw him smack in the center of his face.

"You need a cat," Coulson deadpanned. Clint stuck him nose in the air and huffed.

"I hate cats," he said in a snotty voice.

"Where did you get the eye patch and the mustache?" Coulson asked warily.

"EBay," Clint said simply while admiring his fingernails.

Coulson stared at him.

Barton off mission was a bored Barton.

A bored Barton did _weird_ shit.

Weird shit gave poor Coulson a headache.

Coulson sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose - he could not deal with this right now.

"Barton...you're a failure at life. Get out of my office," Coulson said pointing towards his door. Clint's amused look instantly morphed in a hard cold expression that had Coulson tense instantly.

"Why is Hill still in charge?" Clint asked steadily. Coulson paused as he got whiplash from the sudden 180 degree shift in the conversation.

Damn Barton had a crazy way of interrogation. Coulson completely didn't see that coming.

"She'll castrate you if she hears you say that," he said warningly. Clint glared at him.

"She _always_ wants to castrate me and you're avoiding my question," he said cautiously.

"Are you trying to interrogate your own handler with a fake eye patch on your head?" Coulson asked tiredly. Clint ripped the eye patch off his head and gave his handler a hard look.

"Where's Fury?" he pressed. Coulson instantly pinched the bridge of his nose. Damn he really hated agents who had the nerve to stick their nose in places it shouldn't be.

"Still in Romania," he grounded out. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"He's been there for a week now...," he said carefully. Coulson gave his agent a warning look.

"Not your problem," he said firmly. Clint sighed.

"Yet...," he said warily. Coulson shook his head and gripped the folder in his hand tightly.

"If we need you - we'll call you in," he said steadily. Clint chuckled humorlessly.

"The problem with that is that by the time you call me in everything has already gone to shit Coulson. Me and Natasha are the response team you send in when every diplomatic option has blown up in your faces," Clint muttered as he stared holes into Coulson's desk. The older handler sighed and tiredly rubbed his forehead as he walked over towards his brooding agent. No matter how carefree and cheerful agent Barton seemed on the outside – on the inside he is a dutiful agent who is almost _obsessively_ focused on his job.

But everyone needs to back away from the field once in a while – otherwise they'll drive themselves crazy.

"Enjoy your short break between assignments Barton. There is always some type of disaster brewing at SHIELD - you can't spend your life trying to fix everything wrong with the world every single day. Someone is _always_ in need every day. You have to learn how to shut the agent off when you're not on duty," Coulson said carefully putting a hand on Clint's shoulder. Clint tensed as he stared at his handler's hand on his person and took a deep breath to allow the excess tension to drain away. If it was anyone else at SHIELD he would have already shrugged off their unwanted gesture and stomped away. But Coulson was his closest friend. Coulson was the man who gave him his life back. Coulson was the first person to believe there was anything worth saving in Clint Barton's damned soul at all.

However, he didn't particularly like random people touching him.

Natasha was an exception – she was _always_ the exception.

"Do you ever shut the agent off Phil?" Clint asked quietly as he stared at his hands. Coulson gave him a weak grimace but didn't answer.

_We're not the same, _was the message that clearly hung in the space between them. Clint Barton and Phil Coulson would never be the same. Clint has the privilege of having some semblance of a life outside of SHIELD – Coulson did not.

"Go home Clint," Coulson said as he squeezed his shoulder.

"Why does everyone keep _telling_ me that today?" Clint muttered. Coulson actually chuckled.

"Because you're a workaholic – now get out of this dreary place and stop sticking your nose in things that are not your business right now," Coulson said as he patted Clint on the back and walked towards the door. Clint slowly rose to his feet and followed behind him.

"If you think I'm a workaholic you should see Hill…," Clint muttered as Coulson opened the door and gestured for Clint to go ahead of him.

"Oh we all know that woman doesn't sleep. And take that caterpillar off your face," Coulson deadpanned. Clint snorted and ripped the fake mustache off his face with a grimace.

"I hate these things actually," he muttered as he shoved the mustache into his pocket. Coulson rolled his eyes and gestured towards the exit.

"_Good bye_ agent Barton," he said pointedly. Clint gave him a playful scowl.

"Until the next time we met again agent Coulson," he said giving his handler a mock bow before he left. Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose.

"God help me," he muttered as he shook his head. Coulson turned around and nearly got ran over by a speeding acting-director agent Hill rounding the corner.

"Agent Hill why are you-" he started to ask but one look at her face instantly shut him up. It was her _shit just got serious_ face.

"Don't talk to me right now Coulson," Hill said as she stalked down the hall with a hard look in her eyes. That had Coulson switching gears instantly.

"The look on your face is terrifying Hill," he said carefully. Hill instantly stopped walking and spun around to pin Coulson with a warning look.

"Do your job Coulson and I'll do mine okay? Everything else we'll deal with when we get there," she said tensely. Coulson gave her wary glance.

"Did the council just tell you?" he asked warily. Hill's eyes turned to steel.

"Yes," she growled before she shoved passed him.

"It's not your-" he started to say but she sharply cut him off.

"_No_. Don't try to placate me. You try being in charge of this insane organization and deal with the council's outrageous demands at the same time and see how stressed you feel at the end of the day Coulson!" Hill said heatedly. Coulson gave her a calm look in return.

"Nope. I like my agents. You can rumble with the big boys. That's why you're a commanding officer and I'm just a handler," he said with a shrug. He knew his limits and what type of stress level he wanted to deal with on a daily basis.

"You're just too lazy to accept your promotions," she muttered. Coulson's expression darkened.

"No. I know what I want from my job Maria. Do you?" he asked carefully. Hill gave him a tired wary look. She looked years older than she actually was in that moment.

"Sometimes I feel like...," she started to say but then her eyes locked with stormy blue ones and her face instantly hardened causing the momentary soft look in her eyes to vanish. "...oh for the love of god he's still on base?" Hill muttered before she shot Coulson an annoyed look. Coulson raised his hands in defense.

"Don't blame me – he never listens to _anyone_," Coulson said warily. Hill took a deep breath and they all watched her calm mask fall back into place.

"2200," she said carefully. Coulson nodded slowly.

"Got it," he said simply. Hill gave him one of her 1000 mask stares before she spun on her heel and stalked away while tapping her communicator in her ear on and talking to another agent as she disappeared around the corner. Coulson warily glanced over his shoulder and still found agent Barton loitering in the corner with a calculative look on his face – he was trying to figure their conversation out – the man can never turn his brain off can he?

"Not your problem," Coulson mouth before he pointed to the exit. Clint opened his mouth but Coulson just shot him a pointed look that instantly shut him up. Clint finally just scowled at him.

"I really _hate_ working for intelligence organizations sometimes," he muttered before he stomped away.

They never tell you _shit_ until shit is standing at their front door.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: I wonder what everyone's problem is at the moment? Why did Natasha kick him out of her medical appointment? Why are Hill and Coulson acting like two hush, hush criminals? What the heck is Fury still doing in Romania anyway? **

**Epic Clintasha fight coming up next. Natasha is going to be an asshole. You'll find out why later. Bye! **

**P.S. Ready for another mission?**

**P.P.S. How does a date fit into all of this madness you wonder? **


	87. Chapter 87

**I dare you **

**A/N: BIGGEST FIGHT EVER!**

**You are warned. **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 87 **

"Damn annoying super-secret agents. Stupid regulations. Stupid SHIELD. Stupid handlers. Stupid clearance. Stupid classified secrets. Stupid superiors who don't know when to accept help when it's offered to them!" Clint growled as he angrily shoved his keys into his car door.

"That's quite a rant you have going there," a familiar voice said from behind him. Clint huffed.

"Oh don't start with me Tasha. You have no idea what jus- _wait_. Back up. Back up. Where the hell did _you_ come from?" Clint asked in disbelief as he spun around and stared at his partner leaning against the car across from his own. Natasha sighed.

"You really need to pay attention to your surroundings off mission Barton," Natasha said rubbing her forehead in frustration. How the hell was he a spy again? Clint's eyes darkened.

"I _do_ pay attention to my surroundings Tasha. Like the man 30 feet behind me is about to get pick pocketed by that street kid that is going to not so accidentally bum into him - you're presence just wasn't a threat," he said quietly. Natasha instantly glanced over his shoulder and sure enough the scene he was describing is exactly what was happening at the end of the street. She saw the young teen relieve the old man of his wallet and quickly exit into an alley on his left. She instantly tensed. Does that mean she was losing her touch?

"I'm a highly skilled assassin - my aura itself should register as a threat on your internal radar Barton," she said rigidly. Clint gave her a weak smile.

"It used to - not anymore," he said softly. Natasha gave him a wary look.

"I don't know if I should feel insulted or not," Natasha said carefully - it looked like she was debating whether should she should be pissed or not. Clint's expression suddenly darkened.

"You _shot_ at me," he said accusingly. Natasha's eyes hardened.

"You were spying on me," she shot back. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"You still shot at me Natasha," he said carefully. Natasha gave him a sharp look.

"Get over it - you're still alive. I just grazed your hair," she muttered. Clint could feel his temper start to rise.

"There was no way you could have purposely made that angle. How the hell did you make that type of close range shot _without_ hitting me?" he asked heatedly. Natasha stared at him with an unreadable look on her face and he stared right back.

If it was a lucky shot he would _strangle_ her.

"How do you hit targets 900 meters away from you when effective riffle range is 800?" she shot back instead of answering his question. Clint froze.

_Silence_.

"I didn't know you caught that - we haven't done a sniper mission in a few months," he said quietly. Natasha took a deep breath and for the first time in their partnership she was the first to look away.

Clint didn't know if that was a step forward for them or not.

"I watched your kills almost obsessively in the beginning before we started doing espionage missions. I wanted to know how you would kill me so that I could use it against you and kill you first," she admitted reluctantly. Clint shook his head and gave her a sad look.

"I was never planning to shoot you in the back Natasha. My offer was real," he said quietly. Natasha clenched her hands into fists as she stared daggers into the ground.

"I know that now. I didn't believe you back then. I thought you were lying – I had no reason to believe a random American who had nothing to gain from helping me. You being tense and on guard all the time didn't help either," she grounded out. Clint gave her a wary look.

"Natasha. Tell me how relaxed you would be working with someone who was as likely to shoot the enemy as she was likely to shoot you?" he asked tiredly. It wasn't easy working with her in the first few shaky months – SHIELD wasn't the only ones who were scared she was going to kill their best agent. It kind of gave him whiplash that he didn't want to sleep _without_ her in his arms anymore when 9 months ago he honestly thought she would kill him in his sleep. Natasha's expression suddenly darkened.

"I wouldn't be – we wouldn't even be in that situation. I would've shot you if you were my target Barton. You'd be dead if our roles were reverse. I never showed mercy," she said quietly. Clint sighed – he knew the possibilities of this working out the other way around were slim.

"You showed Takashi's father mercy," he pointed out quietly. Natasha paused but then shook her head.

"That's not the same," she muttered. Clint stared at her.

"It is the same – it's called having compassion for someone else's life in your hands. You could have let him bleed out in a horribly painful death – instead you chose to give him peace," Clint said carefully. Natasha suddenly laughed darkly.

"If death is peace Clint what the hell is life?" she asked steadily.

"Life is a series of decisions you have to learn to live with. And right now I'd like to know what compelled you to shoot at me?" Clint asked steadily. He instantly watched the tension spike in her body.

"I didn't want you in there. I wanted to tell you myself," Natasha said as she skillfully avoided his eyes. Clint _stared_ at her.

"Tell me..._what_?" he asked cautiously.

"Worst case scenario," she whispered resignedly. Clint instantly slammed the panic he was starting to feel down and told himself to get a grip and deal with the situation like the damn real agent he was. He was not the panic type – he wasn't going to let her turn him into one either.

No matter how much she was freaking him out inside.

"Worst case scenario is that you get taken off the enhancers and revert to Natalia right?" Clint said carefully. He already knew that. Natasha shook her head.

"No. Worst case scenario is that I'm going to die from withdrawal," she said quietly staring at his shoulder.

Clint froze.

"_What_?" he asked sharply. Natasha sighed as she looked away from his burning gaze and stared at the park across the street from them.

"The irritating doc said the enhancers don't just fade out like a normal drug. When I clock out I instantly wake up as Natalia because she can't access my memories anymore - but the rest of the enhancer affects fade slowly. They don't know for certain but they are pretty sure the enhancers are built in a way that when an asset has been off of them long enough - it's going cause her body to shut down and eliminate her," Natasha said quietly as she watched Clint grow more rigid by the second. "I'll be dead within a week if I miss a dosage or something triggers the reversal early again," Natasha said in a slightly air of defeat. How do you fight something you can't see or control? Clint took several deep breaths as he stood in front of her and tried to wrap his brain around what she was telling him.

"So you're a ticking self-destruct bomb," he said quietly.

"Yes," she whispered. Clint took one last calming breath before he stepped forward and stopped resisting his urge to pull her into a bone crushing embrace. He felt his heart warm when she didn't resist his urge to wrap his arms around her and crush her body to his.

"We'll work around it Tasha. We'll figure out it. You're not alone," he whispered as he buried his face in her hair. Natasha gripped the back of his shirt and pressed her forehead against his shoulder.

"You have too much faith in the world Barton," she said warningly. _It would break him._

"I'm _not_ going to let you die," he said fervently. Natasha tensed and instantly pulled away from him.

"You can't make that promise Clint! Don't make promises you can't keep!" she said angrily. Clint narrows his eyes.

"I can _try_," he said firmly. Something in Natasha's eyes instantly snapped.

"You always want to save me Clint – from the moment we met you've wanted to give me the chance at redemption or something equally unattainable! But maybe I'm not worth it Clint! Maybe you made a mistake in sparing me! Because all I seem to do is cause _more_ problems in your life!" Natasha said angrily turning away from him. Clint stared at her in alarm.

"_Shut up_! Just shut up Natasha. You're not dead yet - so until you're taking your last breath in my arms Natasha Romanoff you're going to keep fighting to stay alive damn it!" he shouted as he grabbed he by the shoulders to spin her around to face him and shove her against his car. Last time they were in this position they were having a _very_ different type of conversation.

"This is _rich_ coming from the man who nearly committed suicide less than 20 hours ago!" she growled harshly. Clint inhaled a sharp breath and she instantly looked away to glare daggers into the ground. That was a low blow and then both knew it.

"Then maybe we are two of the most screwed up people in the world - but as long as you don't let me pull the trigger Natasha I'll try my damn hardest to make sure you don't proverbially pull your own," he said fiercely as he roughly grabbed her face and forced her to raise her head – but she still stubbornly refused to meet his burning gaze.

"_Look_ at me Natasha," he whispered fervently.

"Why should I?" she spat. Clint ignored her harsh tone and let one of his hands slide across her face and he started combing his fingers through her hair. Natasha tensed as her stupid body started to melt and react to his familiar touch. She _hated_ it.

"Because you _need_ to see what you've chosen to commit to in the last few months. And if you don't look up I'm going to walk away from everything because then I'm clearly not that important to you," he whispered in her ear as he steadily continued running his hand through her hair. Natasha eyes instantly snapped up and she glared angry vicious burning daggers at him. She looked ready to kill him.

She still looked up though too.

"I'm not a pushover Natasha. If you push me I'm going to push back," Clint said as he held her sharp gaze.

"I don't treat you like a pushover Barton. You're too damn annoying and stubborn to be a good pushover anyway," Natasha said bitingly. Clint shook his head and pressed her more firmly against the car with his weight.

"We're partners rights Natasha?" he asked seriously. Natasha took a deep breath but didn't look away.

"Yes," she muttered. Clint tightened his gripe on her shoulders and took another deep breath.

"We're more than partners too right Tasha?" he pressed. Natasha inhaled a sharp breath but stared at him dead in the eye.

"Yes," she ground out. Clint internally sighed in relief. Despite her rather vicious tone it felt so damn good to know she fully acknowledged their relationship for once.

"We're two of the best assassins in the world right?" he continued. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"You're being cocky," she said carefully. Arrogance is the _number one_ thing that got agents killed in the field. Clint shook his head.

"Most assassins die within a few years on the jobs. We've both lived well past 5 years," he said seriously. They weren't planning on being killed any time soon.

"Where are you going with this Clint?" Natasha asked carefully.

"Do you want to leave Natasha? Is that what you're trying to tell me?" he asked quietly. She instantly tensed.

"I can't tell you want will happen in the future Barton," Natasha said warningly. He was throwing her words with Coulson back in her face.

"I'm not talking about the future. I'm talking about right now. Do you want to leave _right now_ Natasha? Are you unhappy where you are right now?" he pressed. He had to know. He had to know if what she told Coulson was the truth. He didn't care what she thought in the beginning. He only cared about what she thought now – after everything they've been through. Natasha gritted her teeth at his interrogative like questions but answered him anyway.

"No," she said with steeled eyes. Clint let out an audible sigh of relief.

"Then stop talking about being a mistake and let's go home Tasha," he said softly cupping her face in his palms and leaning his forehead against hers. Natasha's took a deep breath.

"I-I can't," she said carefully. Clint paused.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"I have some things to do...," she said cautiously. Clint searched her eyes for any kind of explanation but he found none.

"What type of things Natasha?" he asked suspiciously. Natasha shot him a sharp look.

"I don't need to tell you everything that happens in my life Barton!" she growled. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"You kind of do…," he said carefully. _Otherwise I will just find out on my own anyway. _He left unsaid.

"No. I still have a life outside of our partnership," she said tensely. Clint laughed darkly – he honestly laughed. She was joking right?

"Really? What type of life is that I wonder? What life could you possibly have living in America as a defected Russian assassin with just as much family as I do? Tell me Tasha," he asked with mock curiosity. Natasha shot him a _nasty_ glare.

"Don't patronizing me Barton...," she said warningly. Clint's eyes instantly lost the fake humor and an angry storm of emotions swirled in his eyes as he stared at her. He was angry at her. He was _beyond_ angry with her.

He was damn _furious_.

"_Stop_ keeping secrets from me Natasha – partnerships don't work like this," he growled warningly as his hands started to shake with restrained anger.

"Don't tell me how to run my life," she growled back. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"You share your life with _me_ Natasha – whether you want to or _not_," he said firmly. Natasha narrowed eyes before she promptly shoved him away from her and proceeded to storm out of the parking lot.

"Where are you going _Natasha_?" he demanded. She spun around and shoved her gun into his face and clicked the safety off. They both took a sharp breath as they stared at each other.

"If you follow me, I'll know and I _will_ shoot you - regardless of who you are," she said with dead serious look on her face. She was going to kill him if he tried to force her into anything she didn't want to do. Nobody told her what to do – not even Clint Barton. Clint gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes.

"Should we test that threat? You talk big Romanoff but I would like to see you point that gun at me and _actually_ land a hit. If you can't - that says one thing about us. If you _can_ pull the trigger… well that says a whole lot more doesn't it Tasha?" he whispered threateningly even if he was the one being held at gunpoint. "Pull the trigger Natasha. I dare you to look me dead in the eye and pull the trigger and _kill me_," he said as he took a step closer to her. Natasha gritted her teeth and gripped her gun tighter. "Then I wouldn't be a problem for you anymore right? You wouldn't have to feel confused or conflicted about how I make you feel right? I'm not someone you can just read a file about and understand how he works inside and out right? It's been 9 months and you still don't know everything about me right? It drives you crazy doesn't it? You didn't choose to fall for me – you just _did_. And you can't stand not know _why_. Sometimes there _is_ no why Natasha. No one can control how they feel deep inside– not even the best actress in the world. If I'm dead then you're free of feeling like you have a liability right? Because before me Natasha Romanoff didn't need anyone right? If it wasn't for me you wouldn't have to be stuck working for just one restrictive organization like SHIELD right? " he said challengingly. Natasha tried to desperately calm her heart rate but his words were making it impossible for her to get a good grip of her breathing.

"And what if all of that is true?" she asked tensely. Clint laughed darkly and shook his head.

"It _is_ true Natasha. The bottom line is that your feelings for me scared the living _shit_ out of you and you don't know how to properly deal with them," Clint said damningly. Every time they take another step in their relationship, every time they move too fast she can't handle the gigantic shit in how she feels.

It scares her to death that she could ever feel the things he makes her feel.

"You might say you don't feel as much as I do Natasha – but I think you're a liar. I _know_ you are a liar. You are one of the biggest liars I have ever _met_. You're seriously freaking out on me Natasha and I think it's because you're scared your feelings are turning into something you don't want them to," he said heatedly. Natasha froze and he knew she knew exactly what he was talking about.

And of course that's where the denial begins.

"_No_! Stop lecturing me about my own god damn emotions!" Natasha growled as she shoved her gun harder against his forehead.

"I'll stop telling you the _truth_ when you stop being so dead set on keeping secrets from me!" Clint said angrily.

"I deserve privacy Clint!" she shouted in frustration. Clint scoffed.

"This isn't privacy Natasha - this is you trying to keep half your life under a rock while you only share the other half with me. How is that fair? How long is that going to work?" he demanded.

"You don't have the right to tell me-"

"I _do_ have that god damn right Natasha! Maybe not as your partner but I definitely have the right to know where you are going as your boyfriend," Clint said darkly. Natasha tensed and he instantly knew that was the wrong thing to say because the next thing he knew his reflexes were telling him to get the fuck down because she just pulled the trigger.

_BANG_!

"I told you, you're _not_ my boyfriend," she said dangerously towering over her deeply breathing partner who just barely missed her bullet to his head. Clint shook his head in disbelief.

She shot at him! She actually _shot_ at him!

"God damn it I really want to _punch_ you in the face sometimes Natasha! We _live_ together Natasha-," he started to fume but she instantly cut him off.

"Only because the nature of how you recruited me _required_ us to!" she shouted as she angrily gripped her gun in her hand. Clint stared at her incredulously.

"That doesn't matter! That's not the point. We're a hell of a lot more than just work related roommates Natasha. You slept in _my_ room last night Natasha. You woke up in _my_ arms this morning. I made you damn breakfast because you can't even make _toast_! You kiss me _back _when I kiss you Natasha!" he exclaimed heatedly.

"So _what _Clint? So what?" she shouted.

"That's not what partners or roommates or just friends do! It's what _we_ do! It's what people in real relationships do! And don't insult my feelings by saying we're friends with benefits or some other disgusting 21st century shit society has created to have sex without feelings – because that's not what I _want_ Natasha! If I wanted that I would never have approached you. I would never have fought you until you caved out of sheer frustration. Yes I want to sleep with you so bad I ache for it but that is only an extension of want I want Natasha. A relationship is a whole lot more than sex. I _am_ your boyfriend Natasha - and you're going to learn how to _deal_ with it," Clint said angrily.

"Why do you want that god damn childish tittle so _badly_ Clint? Why?" she demanded.

"Because no one else in world has ever been that for you. You've had partners before Natasha," Clint said carefully. Natasha faltered but didn't back down.

"This is not the same as my past partnerships," she growled as she gestured between the two of them. He narrowed his eyes – he knew that very well. It's what he has been trying to say this whole time.

"I know we're not the same. But Natasha you have to give me something," he said carefully. Natasha angrily shook her head. He didn't understand. Why doesn't he understand?

The problem was that he understood her _fine_ – they just didn't agree on _anything_.

"We're partners Barton. You're not my boyfriend because boyfriends are for people who live normal lives and have normal jobs that don't reduce their life expectancy to a mere couple of years. They are for people who go to college, go on dates and grow old together. We're SHIELD agents. You're a soldier and I'm a spy. You have messed up hallucinations and break downs and I have a drug that is going to kill me when I run out of it! We're not those _people_ Barton!" Natasha shouted furious that he was trying to fit them into a box they would never fit.

"What if we went on date?" Clint asked suddenly very serious.

Natasha's eyes steeled and nearly broke the gun she had in her hand.

"_No_," she shot him down instantly.

"Tasha-"

"Stop trying to make us something we're _not_ Barton!" she shouted angrily. Clint's eyes darkened.

"Natasha you have some _serious_ messed up commitment issues. Just because our jobs are not ideal doesn't mean we can't have what normal people have. You are just being one big fucking _asshole_!" he growled.

Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Then go fuck yourself and find another partner you bastard," she spat before she spun around and stormed away. Clint feel he heart freeze when she said that but then he read her angry body language as she stalked down the street while clenching her fists at her sides. She had to be bluffing….right? Clint shook his head.

She _had_ to be bluffing. They've come too far for her to just walk away. She _was_ never allowed to just walk away. Fuck what SHIELD would do. She wasn't allowed to walk away from _him_.

She had to be spewing empty threats.

If she wasn't?

He was going to hunt her down and kick her _ass_.

"That was a fucking _nightmare_," he growled as he roughly _banged_ his head against his car.

If there was a contest for the most difficult women in the world to be in a relationship with Natasha Romanoff would win hands down. Period.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Is she bluffing? Is she? She is Natasha Romanoff after all. **

**I think that was the worst fight they had in the entire story. And they have had a **_**lot**_**. Like literally over 30 different intense Clintasha arguments throughout this fanfic. I think Clintasha is just one of their couples that clash as much as they work flawlessly together. **

**What do you guys think? **

**P.S. Wonder what she was so thorough freaking out about…? **


	88. Chapter 88

**I dare you **

**A/N: Time to stop scaring you all and get down to **_**business**_**. **

**THIS SCENE IS SO BADASS! AHHH :D **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 88 **

Clint braced his palmed against the side of his car as he tried to calm his racing thoughts –he paused and promptly threw that goal out the window - that was an impossible task. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to figure out what the hell he was going to do.

He had a choice and every second he let pass him by limited his choices until he would be forced to choose just one.

_Go after her or not go after her. _

_Go after her or not go after her. _

_Go after her or not go after her. _

He saw her dead serious green eyes flashed across his mind and he tensed. He didn't trust her _one_ bit.

"She's going to shoot you Barton. She's going to shoot you _dead_," Clint muttered as he ran a hand through his short hair before he finally made up his mind. He quickly pushed himself away from his car and sprinted out of the parking lot after her.

He believed her.

"Natasha I'm going to _kill you_!" Clint growled as he ran down the street he had watched her storm across not even a few minutes ago.

Several streets down the block Natasha was already increasing the distance between them at a rapid pace. She tensed as she sharply rounded a corner and felt a second sense created from illegal training she had been subjected to for years cause alarms to go off in her head.

She had a tail.

_That bastard. _

"You're an idiot that just doesn't _listen_ Clint," she muttered as she glanced down at the phone in her hand and narrowed her eyes. She didn't have time for his dramatic shit.

"You want dramatics? I can give you dramatics Barton," she said ominously before she made another sharp turn and walked _right_ into one of the most densely packed night clubs of New York she and Barton _never_ frequent if they could help it. She felt a million hungry eyes on her the second she entered the smoky dark room but she ignored all of them as she made her way deeper in the club.

The music pounded in her ears as the temperature instantly started rising in the air due to all the mindless bodies gridding up against each other on or off the dance floor – it didn't really phase her at all. Natasha has done countless assignments where she was forced to be one of the coy flirty women who fluttered across a club and sat down in leering dirty men's laps. She's lured hundreds of unsuspecting targets out of clubs and bedded them right both she _slit their throats_.

But today she wasn't on assignment. Today she wasn't playing a character. Today she was just Natasha who was adamantly avoided all eye contact so that none of the bastards would get any ideas and approach her. She kept her expression closed and clearly stating _not interested_. She was sick of meaningless encounters. Whether you were in a Russian club or an American club the end result was always the same. Meaningless drunk sex you would never remember. Awkward mornings waking up in a bed that wasn't yours. And definitely no phone calls even if you gave the guy your number. If she wanted a lay that actually _meant_ something she had a perfectly good offer that liked to make her breakfast and play with her hair in her own apartment.

Flashes of Clint laughing as she ranted up a storm, Clint kissing her in the rain, Clint showing her how to use his bow, Clint sparring with her as he got his ass handed to him, Clint stealing strawberries from her mouth, Clint's eyes softening as he talked to Natalia like he was talking to her, Clint hugging her even after she said no flooded her calm calculative mind.

_That_ was what she eventually wanted to sleep with.

But what she wanted _right now_ was for everyone to leave her to _hell_ alone.

Natasha weaved through the masses of bodies with one destination in mind. She tensed when a brave looking blond boy blocked her path and instantly caused her to start losing her patience.

"Hey beautiful why such a long face-" the boy started to try and smooth talk his way onto her good side but Natasha was just _not_ in the mood to let him down easy.

"Fuck off before I cut your _dick_ off," Natasha hissed viciously. The interested look instantly morphed into fear. Natasha cursed in her head for letting too much of her darkness through and promptly locked down all her feelings and forced her expression to clear before she scared to shit out of the poor unsuspecting kid. She didn't make a habit out of scaring random boys.

"Sheesh what has you in a mood?" the off putted college boy muttered as he backed away from her. Natasha gave him an uncomfortably long stare that had him shifting from side to side as he tried to cut his losses and find another warmer feminine pursuit.

Natasha felt like sighing tiredly as she realized she was never going to have this. She was never going to meet a guy in a club and just ignore the consequences and be a reckless girl in her twenties. If you really thought about it she was a 22 year girl which was nearly the age when you were fresh out of college. Being in a stressful job like an assassin ages you mentally by several years – maybe even a decade. No college boy could ever dream of understanding who she was. Once upon a time she didn't think _any_ man could – expect the one who had just slipped through the front door of the club with an extremely determined and _pissed_ look on his rough face. If it was any other time Natasha would have applauded and been impressed at how fast he found her.

Right now she was going to kick his ass and got the hell away from him.

"Nothing – just not interested kid," she said quietly shoving passed the blond boy and continuing towards her initial destination. She _finally_ felt one specific stare burn into the back of her head and her breathing started to pick up. She could tell he was about 10 feet behind her separated by the masses of young Americans on the dance floor.

Natasha glanced at the back of the room and promptly slowed down so that he'd think he caught up with her. She felt the familiarity of what she was about to do fill her head with the steps. She edited her plan as it flashed through her mind.

_Lure. Hook. Confuse. Skip the kill and get the hell out. _

She closes her eyes and forced her body to relax as shefelt familiar hands firmly grasp her waist and pull her flush against the only warm body in the world she didn't fell like necessarily gutting in the stomach. If she didn't have somewhere important to go she might have let him do more than just hold her.

"What are you _doing_ Natasha?" he breathed in her ear as the club music pumped faster and louder in both their ears. Natasha took a shaky breath and glanced down at her watch – she had 10 minutes. _Shit_. She promptly spun around, grabbed him by front of his shirt and slammed his mouth down on hers completely shocking his system. Clint froze at the unexpected attack and tried to push her back and demand an explanation of her bipolar actions but Natasha just pressed herself up against him and threaded her fingers through his thoroughly abused hair. She ran her tongue along his bottom lip and forced him to open his mouth so that she could deepen the kiss.

"_Tasha_!" he protested against her lips. Natasha furrowed her brow in frustration. He was such a stubborn _ass_.

_Not a target. Not a target. Not a target._ She repeated in her head like a mantra. She ignored the knife she usually used at this point and just improvised on distraction. She instantly changed tactics when she realized hot and sexy wasn't working and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him slowly and chastely like she knew he liked and internally smirked in triumph as she felt him lose focus on where exactly they were - a sweaty hot dance club. She let herself enjoy the kiss for just a few moments until she was sure he was thoroughly distracted before she made her move.

"Need space. Trying to be my own person," she muttered against his lips before she promptly ripped herself away from his tempting embrace and immediately disappeared into the crowd while he was still dizzy and completely out of breath due to her unexpected move. He stood there looking like a ruffled man who was just thoroughly played.

He realized too late that she did that on _purpose_.

"_Shit_!" Clint cursed as he frantically shook his head to clear away the dirty thoughts she purposely left in his brain to distract him and tried to find her signature red in the sea of dark hair. When he caught sight of a flash of red disappear around the back of the club he shot off in that direction immediately.

Natasha knew he was following her as she slipped into a women's washroom and slammed the door shut behind her but didn't lock it. She scanned the small room and was glad it was currently empty. She stalked across the windowless washroom and passed the mirror that reflected the image of a deadly redheaded woman on a mission to deal with her shit.

"You don't know me at all Clint – _not at all_," she said evenly as she pulled out a familiar black strip of an box out of her sleeve and slapped the box underneath the sink as she stared at herself dead in the eye through the reflective mirror.

3 seconds later half the club washroom exploded.

"_Natasha_!" Clint exclaimed in worry as he burst into the washroom with his gun in his hand. The next thing he knew he was punched in the face and the washroom door was slammed shut behind him. He coughed as he was shoved up against the washroom wall and heard the distinct sound of cuffs locking into place. Clint finally managed to pry open his painful black eye and stared at his partner's unreadable expression in disbelief. He tried to move away from the wall but he _couldn't_ - because he was cuffed to the railing.

"What the _hell_ Natasha?" he shouted as he stared at his cuffed hands in shock. Natasha instantly grabbed his face and forced him to look at her dead in the eye.

"When I want to be left alone – you're _going_ to leave me alone," she said threateningly. Clint scoffed.

"Oh like hell I'm going to listen to any shit that comes out of your mouth after you threaten to end our partnership," he spat. Natasha glared at him and roughly yanked his hair and pulled his head back so that he was forced to look up at her.

"Learn to read me better and understand when I'm just _angry_ with you," she said darkly. Clint's eyes flashed.

"This is _not_ how you deal with being angry with me Natasha," he said heatedly. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Just _shut up_. I am not Natalia – I _can_ kill you," she said angrily gripping his shirt and glaring daggers at him. She was much, _much_ more dangerous and capable of things Natalia would never be. She watched his blues eyes darken with something that was definitely _not_ anger and it just pissed her off that he could feel anything except rage right now.

Natasha roughly slapped him across the face.

"_Stop_ getting turned on. We are having an argument – keep your emotion in _context_!" she shouted. Clint's sharp blue eyes burned into her own and she felt something warm unwillingly pool in her stomach – damn it she was hypocrite.

"Sorry I'm not an emotion control freak like you!" Clint spat harshly. Natasha had _enough_.

"I told you to leave me _alone _Clint!" she growled in his face before she promptly slapped a strip of duct tape across his mouth. Clint's eyes stormed in rage as he glared at her. What the fuck was she doing?

"_This_ is how I would have ditched your sorry ass if I didn't want to get my ass dragged into SHIELD and let myself get locked up in a cell for 3 weeks of interrogation Barton," Natasha said heatedly. Clint instantly started brutally tugging at his restraints with murder in his eyes. She watched the metal start to give and laughed darkly.

"It'll take you 3 minutes to get out of those – but by that time you won't know which way I went," she said calmly. Clint shouted something vulgar and probably _highly_ insulting at her but Natasha just shook her head.

"Leave me alone for a few hours Clint," she said quietly as she gently brushed her hands through his soft brown hair. Clint froze as her unexpected caress before he watched the hardness wash over her face and she stood up, picked up _both_ their guns and stalked right out of the washroom. She slammed the door shut behind her and locked it from the outside so that no one in the club would be taking advantage of him while he was still restrained and cuffed to the railing.

He'd get himself out – he was a shit agent if he couldn't. That wasn't her problem. She spun around and a dark look entered her eyes – she had things to do now that he was taken care of.

1 minute later Natasha walked out the front door of the club like nothing happened. Like she totally didn't just subdue her own partner and cuffed him to a wall of a dance club washroom.

Like she didn't just _piss_ Clint Barton off like no tomorrow.

It took Barton 2 and a half minutes to break the cuffs and rip the degrading duct tape off his face with murder still in his eyes - 30 seconds less than she anticipated. He instantly slammed his foot against the door and shoved it open before he quickly pushed his way through the sweaty bodies packed up against each other on the dance floor – he didn't even give the half-naked women a _single_ look. He only had _one_ woman forever burned into his brain and one thought on his mind right now.

_He hated her. _

_He hated her. _

_He hated her. _

_She drove him batshit insane. _

Clint stumbled out of the club in record time, breathing harshly with blue eyes flash in rage as he glanced in every direction. The wind blew into his eyes and the cool air washed over his face as he frantically scanning the streets for any sign of the redheaded pain in his ass.

But Natasha Romanoff was long gone.

"Fucking hell_ Natashaaaaaa!_" he bellowed letting his voice echo down the seemingly deserted street before he slammed his fist into the wall beside the club and nearly broke every bone in his fist.

He was going to kill her one day – he _really_ was.

Take one of his arrows and _stab_ that woman.

Clint angrily stomped back down the street towards him car and shoved his hand into his pocket to search for his keys. He froze when he felt nothing. He frantically tried his other pocket and realized he was missing another vital piece of his personal belongings as well. He felt his blood start to boil.

"First she took my gun. Now my keys and my wallet _too_?" Clint shouted in disbelief. How much more of his dignity was she going to strip?

He stared at the only thing left to his name sitting in the palm of his hand.

Fifty cents.

He knew _exactly_ why she left him fifty cents.

_That little Russian bastard. _

"I hate you Romanoff. I really hate your motherfucking _guts_," Clint said viciously as he stormed across the street towards a payphone and slammed the 2 quarters into the machine and picked up the receiver.

_Ring. Ring. Click. _

"_Coulson_," Clint basically spat through his clenched teeth. He could practically _see_ the eyebrows creep up his handler's face towards his hairline.

"What do you want Barton? I _just_ sent you home…," Coulson said warily. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"Get your car and come pick me up - I'm stranded on 59th street," Clint said angrily seething in place as he clenched his hands into fists.

_5 seconds of silence later._

"Widow royally kicked your ass and stole all your affects didn't she?" Coulson deadpanned. He was _way_ too damn perceptive. Clint's eye twitched maddeningly.

"Just _shut up_ and pick me up!" he bellowed into the phone.

Clint Barton has been thoroughly bested by Natasha Romanoff and he was pissed as hell.

Coulson's booming laughter only pissed him off even _more_.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: AHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! SHE MANAGED TO THOROUGHLY DITCH HIM WITH DUCT TAPE! **

_**That**_** is how to successfully ditch a SHIELD agent. **

**LOL. I wonder where she has to go so badly that she had to get rid of her partner. **

**She's punching a lot of people tonight. You'll see. **

**Oh Natasha. Natasha. Natasha. What are you doing? **

**Nothing illegal I hope ;) **

**Oh and to all those people ****that said Natasha has gotten too soft after she returned Barton's affections…I SAY **_**BULLSHIT**_**! :D**

**Oh that was fun to write. That was a lot of fun. Was it fun to read? **


	89. Chapter 89

**I dare you **

**A/N: SO WHERE DID SHE GO? **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 89 **

20 minutes after utter humiliation Clint Barton sat in a relatively roomy SHIELD car with his arms crossed over his chest and a permanent frown on his face. Coulson watched him sulk for a few minutes as he drove them back towards the SHIELD base.

"Are you just going to sit there and glare out the window for the entire ride?" Coulson asked calmly from the driver's seat. Clint burned daggers into his reflection with his killer gaze.

"Do you know what she _did_ to me today?" he asked darkly - finally speaking after 20 minutes of silent intense brooding. Coulson shot him a wary look.

"Not good things I'm guessing?" he said warily. Clint's scowl deepened and you could practically _see_ the flames coming off of his head.

"She shot at me twice, stormed away from me for no reason and then proceeded to seduce me before she cuffed me to a washroom wall and left me to _fend for_ _myself_!" Clint exclaimed as he exploded in anger beside his handler. Coulson paused.

_Ah_.

Coulson was not really surprised – Barton was bound to get on Romanoff's nerves eventually.

He was simply surprised it took them this long to get sick of each other's presence.

"I _highly_ doubt you needed a lot of seducing…besides you knew she is volatile," Coulson said trying to lighten the mood – it didn't help. Clint's expression just got darker.

"I'm also supposed to be her _partner_," he said tightly. Coulson frowned slightly as he watched the road. Romanoff must have seriously hit a nerve with her words this time. Clint Barton was one of those people who didn't hold grudges and could let almost _anything_ go.

_Almost._

Being shot at by your girlfriend who absolutely refuses to be called your girlfriend might be pushing it.

"What did you _do _to get a reaction like that Barton?" Coulson asked flatly. Clint sputtered in disbelief as he momentarily forgot about how he was supposed to still be in brooding mode.

"I didn't do _anything_! She just lost it today! Natasha doesn't lose it Coulson. She just _doesn't_. We've had arguments before – but she's never tried to seriously ditch me before, " Clint said staring holes into his rough jeans.

"_Clint_," Coulson said evenly. Clint narrowed his eyes but didn't look up.

'What?" he asked tightly. Coulson took a steady breath before he said his piece.

"She just found out she has an expiry date on her head - did you think about how that made her feel?" Coulson asked quietly. Clint instantly lost the wind in his angry sails and promptly looked away feeling slightly ashamed – but not much.

"Still doesn't give her the right to be homicidal towards me," he muttered.

Coulson gave him a _long_ look. Clint scowled back at him.

"Okay I know what we do as a job Coulson - that doesn't mean we're psychotic serial killers!" Clint exclaimed angrily. Coulson pressed his lips together and tried to figure out how to get through to his agent.

"Did she ask you to leave her alone after her medical appointment?" Coulson asked carefully. Clint shifted in his seat but didn't relent in his anger.

"Yes – but she was also sprouting garbage about quitting our team," Clint said guardedly. Coulson rubbed his forehead tiredly.

"Maybe you _should_ have left her alone – women are odd like that…they don't always mean what they say," he said carefully. Clint huffed.

"I thought when women say one thing they always mean the opposite when they are mad?" Clint asked utterly lost. Coulson shook his head.

"Sometimes they do….but sometimes the lady really means business. I don't know – I am not female mind reader Barton – and Romanoff is not your average woman. Besides - are you seriously asking _me_ about how women think? Barton I am not your relationship councilor," Coulson said seriously. Clint scoffed and waved his hand like it was no big deal.

"But you're my friend – it's your job to listen to my shit," he muttered. Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose – god he hated this part of his job.

Agent _drama_.

"I'm your _handler_ – and this is completely crossing the line between professional and very, very _un_professional," Coulson said warily. Clint snorted.

"Put a quark in it – how many of your field teams in your department are professional after having a brush with near certain death?" Clint asked irritably.

"A hell of a lot more professional then _you_," Coulson said without skipping a beat. Clint groaned.

"Coulson stop taunting me – she's driving me _insane_!" Clint exclaimed as he repeatedly banged his head against the window. Coulson promptly grabbed Clint's shoulder and halted his self-destructive actions.

"_Stop_ that – you're going to kill the few brain cells you still have _left_ Clint," Coulson scolded as he watched his agent's childish antics. Clint banged his head against the window one last time and just stayed there as he glared at his reflection. He placed his hand against the cool glass and felt the cool seep into his skin – it nearly felt just as cold as the stony masks she wore when she wanted to keep the entire world out of her head.

Natasha Romanoff had many masks and even more walls to protect herself from the world – but Clint has seen glimpses of the girl who lay behind the lies. Clint has seen a woman who was tired of her life and has been trying to change her world ever since she broke away from a past that would continue to haunt her for years to come. He saw a woman who didn't trust anyone – let alone herself and yet here she was trying to grow this fragile bond of trust with _him._ He _knows_ she is trying despite their many setbacks. He saw a woman who didn't even know how to laugh, how to cry, how to see the beautiful side of life. He saw a woman who didn't know how to ask for help when she needed it and was too prideful to ask even if she could. He saw a woman who could be _so_ much more than the heartless weapon her past handlers tried to make her into.

Natasha Romanoff could be so much more – if she just let herself _try_. Clint felt his heart sink.

_Tasha. _Her name echoed in his thoughts.

_Why are you always pushing me away?_

_Why are you always trying to fight your battles by yourself? _

_Why are you always fighting everything and everyone? _

_Why are you always keeping us at a distance even if you know I'm the last person who is ever going to hurt you? _

_Why are you always lying to yourself? _

"Tasha you're killing me here," Clint whispered against the glass. Coulson glance at his genuinely distraught agent and finally decided to give him a little shove.

"So what are you going to do about it?" he asked quietly. Clint paused as he watched a drop of watch slide down the other side of his window.

"What?" Clint asked as he furrowed his brow in confusion. Coulson sighed.

"You're ranting at me about your relationship problems Barton - but what do you plan to _do_ about it?" Coulson pressed. Clint's expression suddenly darkened.

"I plan to make her _apologize_," Clint said determinedly. Coulson raised one lone eyebrow.

_That_ was an ambitious goal.

"I have this feeling Agent Romanoff doesn't apologize for her actions – especially not when she can just say you deserved it for not complying with her wishes," Coulson said dryly. Clint scowled at his handler with a look that clearly said -_ whose side are you on buddy?_

"Then I just won't _talk_ to her until she does," he said firmly. Coulson paused.

"How long is that going to last when you're partners who have to work together in the field Barton?" he asked slowly. Clint suddenly let a dangerous smile spread across his face.

Natasha Romanoff has pissed off a _very_ dangerous man.

"Don't worry. We can still work together _just_ fine…," he said ominously with a suspicious glint in his eyes. Coulson was extremely wary of Clint Barton when he got into one of his weird moods.

"How long is this pissing contest going to last exactly?" Coulson muttered to himself. Clint firmly glared out his window all over again.

"Until she learns how to talk shit out like a fucking _normal_ person," Clint said firmly. Coulson sighed – he didn't really see any of this ending well.

"So what do you think she is doing right now?" he asked tiredly. Clint furrowed his brow as he stared out his window and went over all her suspicious behavior in the last one hour. It all really meant one thing.

"Kicking someone else's ass," he muttered.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

_BAM_!

"Why did you have to come _now_ you bastard?" Natasha shouted in rage as she inhaled deep ragged breaths while towering over a bloody and bruised faced James Barnes. He scowled as he sat on the ground and glared up at her.

"_Wonderful_ hello Natasha. I missed you so damn much too," he said sarcastically. Natasha instantly grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and slammed him into the alley wall.

"Why did you make me come out here?" she demanded as she shook him roughly. James rolled his eyes even as she brutally slammed his head into the wall. He ignored the sharp pain and gave his volatile ex-partner a bored look.

"I didn't tell you to come. I just told you I was _here_," James said as he spat out the blood that had accumulated in his mouth. Natasha's eyes held murder in them - like usual.

"Go back to Russia. You're fucked up Barnes," she growled in his face. James laughed darkly.

"And you're not? Girl who has a drug induced personality disorder? Memories that aren't real? More blood on her hands then water in an _ocean_?" he growled viciously. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Shut up. That all means bullshit coming from the man that can't even remember anything before a time when he woke up on an operating table. Who doesn't even know why he has a metal synthetic arm. Who doesn't even know how _old_ he is. Who gets put under static sleep so that he doesn't age as fast as the rest of us," she spat. James tensed as his dark eyes flashed.

"So we're both messed up – that is _not_ news Natasha. Why are you being so damn violent today?" James asked angrily. Natasha tensed and promptly let him go and took several steps back away from him like he had just said he had a highly contagious disease or something.

"Why are you here?" she asked guardedly as she clenched her hands into fists. James stared at her steadily.

"Why do you think I'm here?" he asked carefully. Natasha's expression hardened.

"I've already said no Barnes. Even Natalia said no. Why the hell did you even _try_ and mess with Natalia's head? You would have had to give her the enhancers if you didn't want her to end up _dead_. And when I woke up - I would have kicked your ass and left all over again," Natasha said darkly. James angrily shook his head.

"You don't think clearly around that guy Natasha. Maybe if I got you away from him you'd finally get some sense back in your head!" he spat. Natasha instantly tensed.

"I didn't accept his offer because of some piss poor romantic gesture Barnes. I _wanted_ to leave -don't you understand?" Natasha said clenching her jaw in frustration. James leveled her with a pointed stare.

"And yet here you are – and he's nowhere in sight," he said evenly gesturing to the empty alley around them. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"He would have tried to kill you," she growled. James scoffed.

"Or more like you're scared I'm going to kill _him_," he said challengingly. Natasha stiffened.

"He can take care of himself," she said tightly. James snorted.

"Oh yeah – he totally held his own when you kicked his ass in that club didn't he?" he asked dryly. Natasha's' eyes flashed in anger.

"That doesn't count. I wasn't playing fair," she said heatedly. James curled his hands into fists and glared at her.

"I don't need to seduce him to get a good punch in his face," James said threateningly. Natasha gritted her teeth.

"I wasn't seducing him," she said rigidly. James eyed her warily.

"Sure looked like it on the dance floor…," he said vaguely. Natasha felt her shooting hand twitch maddeningly.

"Have you been following me all _day_?" Natasha asked sharply. James laughed and shook his head.

"No, Nat you're always so suspicious of everything- I've only been around since the moment you got out of SHIELD and had that lovely lover's spat with him in the parking lot. I see disagreements are like a hallmark of your relationship isn't it?" he asked tauntingly. Natasha beat down her rage and for once didn't take the bait – she had enough uncharacteristic outbursts for one day.

"Why are you here?" she repeated her earlier question slowly. James finally lost the sneer on his face and a serious look took over his expression.

"I wanted to know if the enhancers worked or if you were going to end up dead anyway," he said staring at her dead in the eye. Natasha stared back for several minutes before she was the first to finally look away.

"Well I'm me and I'm miraculously not dead so go fuck off," she said irritably. James gave her a searching look even as she adamantly avoided direct eye contact.

"You're uneasy," James said flatly. Natasha's eyes darkened as she stared daggers into the ground.

"I had a really bad day," she muttered. James leaned back against the alley wall and silently watched his ex-partner clench and unclench her fists like she didn't know exactly what she wanted to do with them anymore. Like she didn't know what to do with _herself_ anymore.

"Is it really that much of a shock?" James asked quietly. Natasha frowned and looked away.

"No. I was actually surprised - I lasted this long without any complications," she said with resignation clear in her tone.

"Ask them to make it permanent," James said quietly. Natasha paused.

"How?" she asked carefully. James shrugged halfheartedly.

"They have top world class scientists don't they? Tell them to figure it out," he said simply. Natasha sighed.

"Science doesn't work like magic Barnes – some things _are_ impossible," she said guardedly – she was not the type of person to keep up false hopes. James gave her a firm look.

"Your repressors are permanent Natasha. They can figure out how to make the effects of the enhancers permanent too," James said seriously. Natasha finally considered his words and begrudgingly decided he had a point.

"I'll look into it," she said noncommittally. James gave her a long look but let it go – she had very few options at this point. They stood in silence for several minutes lost in their own separate thoughts when Natasha felt something start bugging her at the back of her head.

Something wasn't…_right_.

Something unspoken was hanging in the air between them.

"There is something else James…," she said carefully staring at him as he stared at the ground. James shifted on his spot against the wall and tightened his grip on his bicep as he kept his arms locked across his chest.

"They're going to send the real hits soon Natasha," he said quietly. Natasha took a sharp breath.

"Who are they sending? Dyalov? Turov? Pavel?" she asked seriously going through her mental list of all the top Red Room assets.

"No," he said quietly shaking his head. Natasha paused and the pieces quickly fell into place.

"Are they going to send you?" she asked cautiously. James breathed steadily.

"Maybe," he said carefully as he slowly dragged his eyes up her body and locked his intense gaze with her serious one. She searched his eyes and found the truth.

They weren't going to send anyone else. There was never anyone else. It was only a matter of time before he would be handed the kill order.

"So one day you're going to have to kill me," she said decisively and they both heard her words echo off the cold alley walls around them.

"You changed sides Natasha," he said carefully. Natasha didn't even blink.

"I know," she said without any hint of regret in her voice.

She didn't regret. James nodded and continued to stare at her.

"One day is going to be really soon," he said warningly. Natasha's expression tightened.

"Then I'll just train harder, get quicker and kill you instead," she said confidently. James' lips quirked unexpectedly.

"Fair fight?" he asked tilting his head to the side.

Natasha laughed darkly and shook her head.

"We don't play fair Barnes," she said finally looking away from his eyes and taking a deep breath – it was too much. They've been through too much together. James' face suddenly darkened.

"You're not one of us anymore," he said carefully. Natasha snorted.

"I'll always be the volatile ex-Russian assassin to them," she muttered. James frowned.

"So what's the point of working for them?" he asked seriously. Natasha shrugged.

"It passes the time," she muttered. James gave her a blank look that said _– bullshit._

They both knew why she was there – and he was going to call her on it.

"So - your SHIELD partner is a hotheaded American asshole," he deadpanned completely shooting that one straight out of the blue. Natasha _stared_ at his casual insult of her current partner.

"Actually I think that performance was just for you - he is rather levelheaded and calm in the field. He's a sniper…but I think he has been taking espionage missions because of me," she muttered as she kicked her heel against the floor. _Idiot_.

"Must be driving him crazy. He's not really meant for deception, infiltration and then kill assignments is he? His hand was twitching a lot," James said perceptively. Natasha sighed.

"I think he is going a bit crazy without his bow in his hand," she said quietly.

"Or he wanted to kill me," James said dryly. Natasha snorted and nearly rolled her eyes.

"Oh he _definitely_ wants to kill you," she said without a doubt in her voice. That's why she ditched his ass before she came here. She didn't want them to kill each other – not yet. Not before they had no choice left. James gave her a searching look. He was never seen her care about someone else as much as she seems to care about this one agent.

What was it about an uninspiring archer that had her so hooked?

"Maybe you should let him take a sniper mission for once...," he said carefully. Natasha tensed.

"I don't force him to do _anything_. He made his own choices. _He_ chooses our missions. _He's_ the one who controls which assignments we go on," she said tightly. James glanced at her warily.

"I didn't see you as the type to let a man run your life Romanoff," he said cautiously. Natasha's eyes darkened.

"Believe me. It's not like that in the field with him. Half the time I am saving _his_ ass," she said seriously. If Barton _ever_ treated her like he was her superior she would stab him and be on her merry way out of this country.

"Does he save yours?" James asked as he stared up at the dark starless New York sky. Natasha inhaled a shaky breath let her long red hair fall over her shoulder and block his view of her face.

"That's why we were in Russia," she said quietly looking away. James shook his head and laughed quietly.

"He trusts you way too much – more than he should," he said warningly. Natasha sighed tiredly.

"Yeah like I don't know that," she muttered. That was partially why she was able to so thoroughly ditch his ass – he didn't expect the underhandedness.

He _should_ have.

James chuckled quietly beside her.

"No. That's not even the best part. The _best_ part is that you're actually trying to trust him too. The Black Widow - the _real_ one trained in every type of combat and manipulation tactic in existence – is trying to give up her wicked ways and do '_good'_ in the world. Trust is a joke Natasha – it's just as big of a lie as love is," James said warningly. Natasha scoffed.

"It's harder than it should be because I spent a lifetime living with assholes like _you_," she growled. James narrowed his eyes. He had to know. He had to know what changed her this much.

"Tell me. What did he do? Why would you trust him?" he asked seriously. Natasha looked away and stared holes into the wall beside her.

"If you're in some weird messed up relationship with a man and there is this crazy uncontrollable dangerous attraction between the two of you. If you know you want him and he knows you want him too. If you almost go all the way…but then suddenly something stops you…would _he_ stop?" she asked twirling a lone knife in her hand that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. James watched the small but deadly weapon with an unreadable expression. It was a habit she had picked up from him.

"Did he sleep with you Natasha?" he asked with a dangerous shadow lurking in his eyes. Natasha let the knife spin for several tense minutes before she finally answered.

"_No_," she said quietly. James exhaled slowly.

'Why?" he asked carefully. Natasha took a deep breath and stopped spinning the knife and held it tightly in her hand.

"Cause I said no," she said quietly.

"Either he is gay or he's playing you," James said instantly. Natasha slammed her fist against the wall and angrily stared at her bruised knuckles.

"That's what I used to think _too_ – but he's just not _like_ that," she said in frustration. Why wasn't he like that? James shook his head fiercely.

"There's no such thing as decent men in this world Natasha. There are just men who use people and men who are used…and then there are men who are on the verge of losing their sanity and make stupid decisions that will get them killed," James said carefully. Natasha tensed.

"You think he's lost his mind," she said tightly. James gave her a pointed look.

"What type of intelligence agent worth his shit would trust a Red Room defect?" he shot back. The next thing he knew he had a fuming Russian assassin in his face on the verge of slitting his throat with her red knife tightly gripped in her hand.

"If he was insane why is he still alive after years of working assassinations that are as dangerous as the ones we go on? If he was insane he would never have been able to do missions that had targets that were _my_ level of a risk factor. If he was insane he would not be able to strategize as well as he does and nor would he have managed to save my ass the number of times he has. _My partner is not crazy_," she growled in his face. James steadily stared back at her flashing green eyes. She was furiously pissed on his behalf.

"He's a reckless bastard who takes too many risks then," James amended evenly. Natasha backed off and huffed as she slid down the wall beside him. James took a deep calming breath and shook his head before he slid down to sit beside her as well.

"Touchy," he muttered. Natasha twitched but made no move to stab him.

"Asshole," she muttered back. James huffed and turned away from her.

"You have a liability – it's sickening to watch," he grumbled.

"Shut up before I steal one of his exploding arrows and stab you with it," she grumbled back.

"What types of assassin uses _arrows_?" James asked exasperatedly. Natasha laughed softly.

"I ask myself that every day – and then I watch him actually use them and his aim is amazing," she said a bit wistfully. James sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. They were quiet for a moment.

"You can play him you know. You could get whatever you want from SHIELD. You can hack their systems and clear your name from all the data bases all over the world. You can make the Black Widow disappear. _You_ can disappear. You could bring them to their knees. You could do anything you want Natasha!" James said irritably glancing at her.

All he got was silence.

"...but you don't want to," he said with a defeated sigh. Natasha kept her eyes trained to the ground.

"What's the point?" she asked carefully. She felt his eyes burn into the side of her head but didn't turn to look at him.

"Satisfaction that the people who think they can control you are put in their place? Freedom from being confined to the cheap salary they have you on while you do jobs for them that are worth millions in the contract world? If you left the Room that's fine Natasha. But why work for SHIELD? Why not do contract assassinations and get rich in less than a year? Why live in one of the sketchiest parts of New York? I've _been_ in your shitty apartment – it's a piece of crap," James said in disgust. Natasha's eyes darkened.

"Don't insult my apartment if you want to keep your balls attached Barnes…," Natasha said warningly. James shook his head and _glared_ at her.

"You're the first one to _ever_ leave the program. Why did you leave and just get yourself tied down to another organization that tells you what to do and where to go Natasha? Why don't you just burn the place to the ground and _leave_?" James asked angrily. Why did she just trade one nightmare job for another?

Natasha didn't say a word. James stared at her inscrutable expression for a long time before he finally understood.

"...You don't want to because if you do that you lose him," James concluded with a tired sigh. Natasha narrowed her eyes but remained adamantly silent. James rubbed his hands over his face and shook his head before he stared at her again.

"You're pathetic Natasha. You fell for the enemy. You're going to end up alone with both sides pointing their guns at you," James said warningly. Natasha stiffened.

"I don't _have_ a side," she said harshly.

"How long do you think it will take for them to figure that out?" he asked with equal harshness.

"They don't trust me _anyway_," she muttered. James scoffed.

"I already told you what _I_ thought about trust," he muttered back. Natasha shot him a nasty look.

"I already told you I don't care _what_ you think," she growled inches from his face. She paused as something changed in his eyes and they softened ever so slightly.

"_Nat_…," he whispered her nickname like he used to in the past. Natasha froze and felt her heart start beating rapidly – not for the reasons you think.

_Nostalgia is always a pain in the ass that just doesn't know when to die. _

"_Nyet James_," Natasha said quietly covering his mouth with her hand and pushing him away from her face as she hid her eyes behind her bangs. James paused at her rejection and sighed against her hand.

"Faithful doesn't look good on you Romanoff - makes you look soft," James said gruffly as he back off. Natasha dropped her hand and watched him accept her rebuff with dignity.

"Go find someone worth being faithful for - then you might understand," Natasha said as she turned away from his burning look. She saw him blinked and then the emotions were gone – like they were never even there. Natasha knew he was just hiding it though – he taught her how after all.

"Nah I'm too old for all you pretty assassin out there nowadays. Makes me feel like a pedophile," he muttered. Belova was a pain in his ass – but he definitely wasn't going to let her get what she wants. That was just disgusting – even for him. Natasha shot him a dirty look.

"So what was I? The _exception_?" Natasha asked irritably. James chuckled darkly.

"Well...now we'll never know will we?" he said elusively. Natasha's face hardened.

"You should go," she said rigidly. James lost the smirk that was plastered on his face and watched her with an unreadable expression that quickly replaced it.

"If Clint Barton didn't exist - you'd come back with me," he said seriously. Natasha fiercely shook her head.

"_No_. That's not true. I'm never coming back to that hell hole no matter what happens out here," she said firmly. Barton was _not_ the center of her world. James suddenly shrugged.

"So let's give it a few years. Let's see how long your partner lasts in the field - because the day he gets shot down I'm going to say _I told you_ _so_ when you show up at my door," James said too confidently not to get on Natasha's nerves.

"Don't hold your breath," she hissed at him. James smirked and promptly stood up. He had time – he could out wait anything. Natasha slowly stood up as well and they turned to face each other.

"Good bye Natasha - I hope I don't ever have to see you again," he said holding out his hand for only last gesture of camaraderie. Natasha stared at his hand for a long moment.

"Bye James - I have a terrible feeling that we will. And it won't be on such nice terms," Natasha said steadily as she firmly grasped his hand in her own deadly grip.

They both paused as they heard her SHIELD phone start ringing.

"Not at their beck and call eh?" he said flashing her a dangerous smile. Natasha narrowed her eyes but didn't let go of her death grip on his hand.

"I can choose whether I want to pick it up or not," she said carefully. She has been making every decision for herself since the day agent Barton gave her the first real choice anyone has ever offered her in her _life_.

"But the point is that you're going to pick it up," James said evenly. Natasha shifted as she felt the phone continue to sound in her back pocket.

_Buzz. Buzz. _

"And if I do it draws the line doesn't it?" she said carefully. James' eyes flashed.

"Answer the phone and we're officially off our truce Natasha. Your death _and_ his is fair game," James said warningly.

_Buzz. Buzz. _

James watched Natasha carefully pull out her phone and she glanced down at the caller ID - it was Coulson. Coulson would only ever call at 10 pm for one reason.

"It's not just your life you're putting on the line. If they send a kill order for you – he's dead too," he said carefully. Natasha tensed slightly but didn't cave under his watchful eyes.

"His life is already on the line since the day he met me – they'll try to kill him anyway," Natasha said staring at her SHIELD phone with a calculative look in her eyes. Barton knew what he was signing up for.

"There are _no_ second chance Natasha," James said still holding her hand in a firm grip. Natasha glanced down and stared at his hand wrapped around her own.

"Wrong. He gave me a second chance," she said before she flipped her phone open and answered the call.

"Agent Romanoff here," Natasha said evenly and instantly felt James drop her hand like it was on fire.

The mental clock in both their heads started ticking.

It was only a matter of time now.

"We need you to come in," Coulson's steady voice said in complete professional coolness.

"Why?" she asked carefully as she locked eyes with James who was slowly shaking his head at her. She showed _no regrets_ in her firm gaze.

"Director Fury's been compromised in Romania. We lost contact 2 hours ago. We need to find him," Coulson said evenly. Natasha narrowed her eyes - 2 damn hours? What have they been doing? Twiddling their thumbs?

"Where's agent Barton?" she asked carefully. She heard shuffling and knew there were other people in the room with Coulson.

"Already on base. We're leaving in 20. If you're not here in 15 I'm going to have a seriously enraged hawk to deal with," Coulson said warily. Natasha paused. Strange phrase of words.

"_We_?" she asked cautiously. She could practically _see_ the tiredness on his face.

"Agent Hill and I are coming with you," Coulson said warily. Natasha stared at the ground as she processed that piece of information – she and Barton haven't done a mission with Coulson watching them in _ages_.

"Well that's going to be a party," she muttered. She heard Coulson inhale a deep breath.

"Are you coming…?" he asked carefully. Natasha narrowed her eyes when she heard the underlying tension in his voice – Barton shared way too much with their handler sometimes.

"Give me 10 minutes and tell him to cool his ass otherwise I'm going to _kick_ it," she said curtly. She heard a muffled back and forth exchange occur at the other end before Coulson was speaking again.

"He said duly noted but that you deserve a bigger asskicking because you scared the shit out of him and owe him several apologies," Coulson relayed dryly. Natasha glared at the ground and took a sharp breath.

"Tell him to wipe his tears and that he gets his feathers ruffled too easily," Natasha said evenly before she promptly snapped her phone shut and hung up on him.

A long silence echoed in the space between two of the best soviet assassins in the world.

"How many days do we have before kill order?" she asked guardedly looking up at her tense ex-partner. James shook his head slowly.

"Not many," he said carefully. Natasha paused as she heard something off in his voice and in an instant they both had their guns out and pressed up against the other's foreheads.

"Is it today?" Natasha demanded as she narrowed her eyes. James steadily stared back at his partner of nearly 3 years. He took a steady breath even if his heart was beating erratically as he stared down the gun of the only woman he has never wanted to kill.

Never.

"Not today Natasha – _not today_," he said seriously despite the fact that his finger was tightly pressed against the trigger. They both took a sharp breath as they stared into the eyes of the assassin that was going to kill them one day – even if they didn't want to.

_They never wanted to._

But they were on different sides now. A hundred different emotions and unsaid words that they would never say flashed between them – no matter how many heart beats passed as they stood there with their bullets ready to be fired they would never say them.

_Thump. _

_Thump. _

_Thump. _

_Thump. _

_Thump. _

"Don't die yet," they whispered in unison before they both spun around in opposite directions and disappeared into the crowds of New York City - a place where _anything_ could happen. Natasha shoved her gun back into her waistband and slammed her eyes shut as she melted into the masses of Americans she would never connect with. James cursed under his breath as he slipped out of the crowd and stalked down an empty street as he shoved his gun into his coat. He was going back to Russia – he had no reason to return to America anymore. The next time he would be here he hoped she wasn't in this damn country.

They both chose countries that didn't belong to them.

One day Natasha Romanoff or James Barnes is going to die - and it's going to be at the hands of the other.

A promise of a partnership made in hell.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: THEY ARE ALL BADASSES!AHHHH! Too much non-clintasha feels? THIS WAS WHY SHE DITCHED BARTON. It was necessary – for future plot conflict. Can't wait for that fight? It will be coming soon. **

**Oops. Okay so i angered some people with the bucky/natasha stuff...but Clintasha is truly my fav (otherwise why would I write this fic) i do hope it's clintasha in the movies. There is a slim chance it mght not...but i hope its clintasha. But regardless natasha and bucky will have history in the movie so i wanted to add some drama in this orgin story. Haha hate reviews are always lovely aren't they? Lol passionate clintasha fans. You guys do realize she completely choose clint over james in this chapter right? **


	90. Chapter 90

**I dare you  
**

**A/N: So…Natasha has pretty much treated Clint like shit for the last few chapters. Even if she did defend him while talking to Barnes – Clint still needs to assert some of his rights in their relationship. And fix his pride that got beat up pretty bad in chapter 88.**

**And all the while we're getting ready to leave for Romania our next major, major mission :)**

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**Chapter 90**

Clint stood in his relatively empty quarters at SHIELD save for a hard military level comfort of a bed and an extra set of his sleeveless combat uniform he might need if he ever had to stay on base. He took a deep breath as he stared at the long beloved object made of metal and string sitting in the palm of his right hand. He felt his heart rate speed up as he imagined all the things he could do with a simple flick of his wrist. He felt the rush of adrenaline flood his veins as he realized all the possibilities and the half-forgotten sense of power he now held at his fingertips. He was the master of a weapon few could thoroughly use against him. He was the pioneer of a weapon few have managed to turn into an art in the world of assassinations, espionage and intelligence work.

It's been a _damn_ long time since he did a job he could use his bow for.

Clint reached down and pulled back the string and closed his eyes as he imagined an arrow sitting in his left hand ready to fire and eliminate his next target.

When he had said relatively empty quarters he meant he knew that there was someone silently leaning against his wall behind him by the door. He ignored her for a moment as he continued his momentary fantasy ritual.

Clint exhaled slowly and let go of his imaginary arrow sitting in his hand. He felt the familiar vibrations roll through his hand as the string stretched and flung itself back and forth. He imagined how far the arrow would go, how fast it would hit and how satisfying it would feel as he made his mark. He dropped his arms from their familiar position and was immediately reminded of their last rumble in the field. The last time he used his bow was to save their asses on the Hoffa mission as he shot a grappling arrow out the window of their car after he instructed Natasha to drive them off a bridge.

As he held his bow – the one that has been with him since the moment he left his old life behind - he finally felt his heart settle and he knew who he was. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He was Hawkeye – and if there was one thing no one can ever take away from him was his conviction that as long as he had his eyes, his bow and his mind - he would never miss his shot.

"Man have I missed _you_ baby," he breathed out as he tightly gripped the familiar bow in both his hands. Damn it's been a long time – too long.

"You talk to that thing like it's your lover," a familiar voice said gruffly from behind him.

Clint smiled tightly. _She finally speaks._

"Maybe that's because I don't have a real one," he replied calmly. He felt her shift her position behind him and he imagined how she was crossing her arms in a defensive manner. He felt like shaking his head – _oh Natasha._

"Maybe you should stop talking to inanimate objects and then you could hold down a real girlfriend," she muttered. Clint paused - she wasn't serious was she?

"Maybe I already have one - she just doesn't want to admit _shit_," he said curtly. He felt her stiffen immediately.

"Maybe you don't understand what you are _asking_ of her," she grounded out. Clint sighed.

"I am simply asking for hones-" he started to say as he turned to face her but stopped when his eyes zoned in on her bruised knuckles. Clint's mind instantly started firing a hundred different scenarios of how she managed to beat up her hands _that_ badly in less than a couple hours.

"Why do you have blood on your fists Tasha?" Clint asked carefully. Natasha stiffened and promptly looked away.

"I hit something," she muttered while stuffing her hands into the pockets of the military style black cargo pants she was wearing. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"Something or _someone_?" he asked accusingly. Natasha huffed as she stared at his grey wall.

"Does it matter?" she asked irritably. Clint felt like shaking her until she stopped deflecting every question he asked - but then she wouldn't be Natasha. And that was the whole crux of the problem wasn't it?

"You know when someone asks to be left alone - you expect that they actually spent that time _by themselves_," Clint said challengingly. Natasha didn't take the bait – in fact she completely changed the subject without any subtly at all.

"Is Romania strictly a combat mission?" she asked promptly avoiding the elephant in the room.

Clint was never really afraid of elephants.

"If I asked you where you went - would you tell me?" he asked point blank without answering her own question. Natasha stared at him for a long moment.

"_No_," she said carefully. Clint's eyes hardened. She was going to be a bastard till the end it seemed.

"Then get your mission gear and let's go. Coulson will give you the entire briefing," he said curtly as he picked up his bow and slung his mission pack over his shoulder. He retracted the specialized weapon into a compact form and brushed passed her stiff figure. He locked down everything nice thing he ever felt towards her because today he was going to give her a taste of her own icy medicine.

"Is this your version of giving me the cold shoulder Barton?" Natasha asked from behind him. Clint paused with his hand on the door.

"Maybe you'll learn something about equal footing in relationships Romanoff," Clint said tightly. He felt her take a sharp breath to retaliate with even sharper words but Clint beat her to it. "_No_. Don't even start – I really don't want to shout with you anymore Natasha. If you refuse to share your life with me then I refuse to share mine with _you_," he said heatedly as he stared dagger into his door.

Natasha's expression didn't change but he could feel the tension spike in her body – she remained adamantly silent. She was too stubborn to admit anything. Clint sighed as he turned around to face her and leaned his back against his door as he stared at the ground. "But right now we have an important mission to do - maybe one of the most important ones of our careers. I know that you still don't feel like SHIELD trusts you. But if we manage this rescue mission flawlessly they won't doubt you anymore. There is nothing that screams loyalty better than saving the boss' ass," Clint said flashing her a tight smile that wasn't quite real. Natasha narrowed her eyes – he was being bipolar again.

"Why do you care how I feel or what people think of me if you're so pissed at the sight of me Barton?" Natasha asked guardedly. His eyes darkened.

"Because there is a difference. I am angry at Tasha - the girl that I'm supposed to be in a relationship with. However, I don't really have any problem with the Black Widow. She is rather useful," Clint said with a shrug. Natasha shot him a nasty disbelieving look – he wasn't seriously treating her like two different people was he?

Clint's expression sudden went from casual to serious in an instant. "You could be a million different people in one day Natasha – you shuffle through masks like normal women go through shoes - but at the _end_ of the day you are my partner regardless of everything else. When the masks come off our partnership still stands. Regardless of our personal status - professionally we are sound. If you think you owe me a debt - then my price is that you are never allowed to end our partnership - understood?" Clint said firmly staring at her dead in the eye.

"Is that how you want to clear our debt?" she asked carefully making sure she actually heard him right.

"That's the only thing I want," he said determinedly. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"That's not true. You could ask me to sleep with you. You could ask me to apologize. You could ask me to do a number of other things to clear my debt Barton...," Natasha said steadily. Clint stared at his bow and laughed as he shook his head. She clenched her jaw but didn't move away when he brushed her red hair over her shoulder with the tip of his weapon - the one she knew from his files has _never_ missed a shot. A weapon like that in its master's hand was beyond dangerous. He suddenly leaned forward and she inhaled a sharp breath.

"But then those things wouldn't be real," he whispered in her ear. Natasha clenched her hands into fists as she used all her considerable self-control to keep the intense shiver that wanted to roll through her body under lock and key. She knew she failed as her breath caught in her throat and she felt him slowly grin against her cheek.

Clint Barton made her feel like a damn teenager _girl_. What type of joke was that?

"How real is anything?" she asked irritably as she turned her head away from his burning gaze and fought to ignore the warm breath on her face.

"Whatever feels real is real Tasha," he said quietly brushing his hand against her cheek. Natasha cursed herself for unconsciously leaning into his touch, but it had been a damn long day, he was so warm and the only reason they were on opposing sides right now was because of her pride.

"Want to apologize now Tasha?" he asked softly trying to give her an out. That was all he wanted. He just wanted her to admit she owed him an apology for her rather harsh actions and they'd be fine. Natasha's eyes hardened.

"_No_," she said sharply. Clint stiffened.

"Fine. Stubborn asshole," he muttered as he dropped his hand from her face and stepped back. Natasha told herself she didn't miss his touch. She told herself she didn't miss his warmth. She told herself she didn't need it - any of it. She didn't need _him_ damn it.

_Lies. Lies. Lies._

Because Natasha needed him so much it scared her to death. Lies were just easier to accept.

"I refuse to apologize for something you deserved!" she hissed. Clint tensed but kept his anger in check. If she wanted to play the how cold can you be game he was going to beat her.

"Then let's go hit the field Widow," he said making a big grand gesture towards his door. Natasha gave him a sharp look and Clint scowled at her before he threw his hands up in frustration.

"Fine! _I'll_ go first!" Clint said irritably turning to exit his quarters.

"Americans are such a pain in the ass," she muttered. Clint stopped dead in his tracks. He slammed the door shut before he sharply spun around and was in her face within seconds.

"It's not about where you're from Natasha. Assholes are assholes no matter their nationality. I deserve more respect than what you are giving me right now. I deserve to be treated like I actually mean something to you. I deserve to be the most important thing in your life – otherwise, I don't want you to be the most important thing in _mine_," he said darkly before he spun around and stormed out of his quarters.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Clint stalked into the briefing room on level 12 five minutes later with a hard look on his face that said everything without him saying a word. Coulson glanced up from his seat at the end of the table and gave him a questioning look that Clint promptly ignored.

"Good, you're here. Hill is getting us all signed off for this mission and assigning someone else to man the base while we're...occupied," Coulson said cautiously tapping the file in front of him.

"Wonderful. Can't wait to get out there and shoot some bastards," Clint said as he walked passed his handler clenching his hand around his compacted bow. Coulson gave him a wary look.

"Where's Romanoff?" he asked glancing behind him as if expecting her to silently slip right in behind her partner like she usually does.

Not today apparently.

"She's coming," Clint muttered as he took a seat across the long table and pulled the mission file towards him. He flipped it open to read all the classified documents he had been banned from laying eyes on only 3 hours ago.

He stared at all the Intel in front of him.

Like _stared_.

He stared at the names of agents who had _died_ in the last 7 days.

57.

57 overseas field agents killed in action.

_Fucking hell. _

SHIELD priorities were messed up. Clint's eyes darkened.

"I told you. I told you SHIELD always waits to call us in when things go to hell. Why can't you just clue us in before something like Fury going on his own personal vendetta against an ex- Romanian SHIELD commander who blew up his base - his own _damn_ base - and threatens to take us all out in the future Coulson?" Clint growled as he slammed the file down onto the table and glared at his handler. He didn't like it but he understood why Natasha kept secrets from him – she barely even knew him for a year yet. But he had expected more from his friend of 5 years. Clint narrowed his eyes when Coulson leveled him with his 100 yard stare.

"You know why Barton," Coulson said steadily. _The more you know the more danger you're in then you need to be. _Clint scoffed.

"I don't give a _shit_ about the council and their stick up their ass need for damn secrecy. You should tell us stuff like Coulson - this is _mutiny_. This is systematic wiping out active field agents across Europe. These people want a damn _war_ with us - why didn't you tell us?" Clint demanded as he furiously slammed his fist down on the table. Coulson sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Can we wait until after agent Hill and agent Romanoff get here before I properly tell you what is happening on the other side of the world right now?" Coulson asked through clenched teeth.

Clint _stared_ at his handler.

He handler stared right back.

There was no way in hell Barton was going to be able to intimidate Coulson with his intense eyes – they've known each other for too damn long.

"_Fine_," Clint finally growled before he promptly looked away. Coulson sighed tiredly.

"You have the face Barton," he said warily. Clint's expression tightened as he stared at the outrageous Intel papers in front of him.

"What face?" he asked irritably. He was so pissed about this mission it wasn't even funny.

"The _I'm about to kill my partner_ face," Coulson said slowly. Clint snorted. When did he _not_ feel like shooting Natasha Romanoff?

"Trust me I'm not the one who is homicidal towards my own team," he muttered shaking his head.

"96%," Coulson said quietly. Clint tensed. Somewhere in the back of his head he knew the damn 96% comment had been coming.

"No. Our partnership is not going to break. I won't let it," he said decisively. Coulson leaned back against his seat and sighed.

"You can't really control the future Barton," he said quietly. Instead of blowing a fuse like he had expected his agent to do Clint surprised Coulson by doing the exact opposite. Clint actually laughed quietly and shook his head.

"You know the _one_ thing I learned about Russians Coulson?" Clint asked evenly as he put the file down. Coulson gave him a wary look.

"I assume you're going to tell me?" he said airily. Clint spun a pen on the table and watched the small writing utensil whirl in place as a hundred different thoughts flashed across his sharp sniper mind.

"They are very, very stubborn people who are dead set in their beliefs. Which is a pain but in some ways it's a good thing. She's headstrong and she thinks she owes me a debt - but honestly she owes me nothing. However, I told her that if she _wants_ to believe she owes me anything then the only way she could pay back her debt was by staying my partner," Clint said steadily. Coulson took a deep breath as he listened to Barton's words.

"But she can change her beliefs Barton. She can choose to forget about her self-obligated debt," Coulson said warningly. Clint gave him a rueful smile in response.

"Natasha won't leave Coulson," he said calmly. Coulson gave him a suspicious look.

"How do you know?" he asked cautiously. Clint's eyes linger on his handler for a moment.

"Where would she go?" he asked quietly while staring at the door. Coulson's expression darkened.

"There are hundreds of places she could go. Hundreds of organizations that are legal or illegal alike who would love to hire her. They can offer her a salary 10 times greater than what we can ever offer her," Coulson said sadly. They couldn't offer her half the benefits other organizations out there could – SHIELD did not have the best agents in the world because of their benefits. They had the best because of what they stood for – but Coulson wasn't stupid enough to think Natasha was here because of what SHIELD stood for.

Clint chuckled and shook his head. _Salary_. That was a god damn joke. If they were here for the money SHIELD would have a serious problem holding onto its agents. If either Clint or Natasha needed money they could easily steal enough of it to live the rest of their lives on some sunny island in the middle of nowhere drinking _damn __piña coladas_ for the rest of their days.

But that wasn't what she wanted.

It wasn't why she was here.

And frankly they both hated piña coladas with a passion (at least Clint knew _he_ did).

"You don't know her well enough yet Coulson," he said calmly as he propped his head in his hand and continued to stare at the door. Coulson furrowed his brow.

"Why are you watching the door like that?" Coulson asked glancing at the closed metal entrance himself and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Clint shrugged.

"Cause she's standing on the other side," he said simply.

Coulson tensed - _how did he know that?_

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Well damn Barton! Are you trying to give Natasha Romanoff a run for her money in the cold shoulder department? HAHA. **

**LMAO and random side note - I hate ****piña coladas ****so I thought Clint would too. LOL I didn't think assassins were the fruity alcoholic types. And frankly Barton in my story stays far away from alcohol. Mostly because of his childhood and his past experience with drunk fathers. Which we haven't actually fully explored yet. Interestingly enough he hasn't told her much about his time in the circus either. **

**Time to figure out what the hell is going on in Romania and what Fury is even doing there. **

**CHATPER 90 MILSTONE! WHOO! Oh and THANK YOU guys for making this the 6****th**** most reviewed fanfic in our lovely avengers Fandom. Not just clintasha fanfics…but like everything. O.O sob* We've come such a long way together guys! And yet Natasha is still a stubborn Russian who refuses to apologize for being an asshole towards her partner. Sigh. Even if she had a good reason - she has to tell him eventually right?  
**


	91. Chapter 91

**I dare you**

**A/N: HEY RANDOM GUEST REVIEWER! YOU THERE! (log in next time so that I can personally respond to you) The one who was talking about how Natasha shouldn't apologize because she had a very good reason to ditch Clint? I totally agree with you (because um…I wrote it like that…lol?)! But she hurt him – and she should at least do something to ease some of his hurt feelings. Clint is always compromising his feelings for her – it's her turn. She DID shoot at him you know. TWICE. You just don't shoot at your partner – especially not when you are trying to trust that they will watch your back during a dangerous fire fight. And she didn't tell Clint anything so he has every right to be angry with her. That point I'm trying to make is…**

**THEY ARE BOTH WRONG. Dead, dead wrong. Natasha went about her ex-partner problem the wrong way (but she didn't really have a lot of time to make decisions) and Clint is sort of oversensitive (but with some good reasons). Neither of them is right and they are both making mistakes right now – and I think that is how a partnership works. They **_**both**_** have to apologize – but they are not going to have the **_**chance**_** to do so right away because they have a job to do that will always come before their personal issues. **

**And that is why it's hard for them to let this one go. **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 91 **

The door slid open right on cue to reveal the straight face of agent Romanoff in all her tactical gear and SHIELD combat uniform. Clint kept his face passive but inside he felt his heart start racing just a bit faster. He took a deep breath - he hasn't seen her in tactical gear for a _while_.

She really was drop dead sexy in uniform – it was his favorite image of her. It would always be his favorite image of her. He respected her skills in espionage and seduction because they were damn useful in their line of work - but as a soldier he admired her combat skills just a tad bit more.

"Hey partner," Clint said causally tilting his head to the side. Natasha narrowed her dark green eyes as they promptly locked with his. He promptly fell back on his sniper training to keep his breathing in check.

_Damn_ her intense eyes always hit him in the gut. It was one of the reasons he didn't take his shot in Germany. Natasha could fake heartlessness with scary accuracy. But it wasn't the eyes of a coldblooded killer he saw that day. It was eyes of a woman who has seen too much and now she could no longer look away no matter what atrocity she is facing.

"Lucky guess," she muttered as she walked around the table and took a seat on his right across from Coulson who was about to start talking when his phone interrupted him.

_BEEP_.

He glanced down at his cell and sighed as he read the short message on the screen. Clint stared at his partner who was currently rapidly scanning through their mission files in front of her with an unreadable look on her face. He knew when she got to the 57 agents who were K.I.A part when he saw her eyes linger on that sentence for 3 seconds longer than her rapid reading speed before she continued her scan through the Intel with a slightly sharper look in her eyes. He felt like sighing.

He knew that on some level she cared that real agents has actually died in this mess – she was just so damn hard to read it would be impossible for anyone to understand her if they didn't spend every single damn day with her. Natasha doesn't make it easy for people to see her good side. If she made it _this_ difficult for him – there was no hope in other SHIELD agents seeing the humanity behind the Black Widow mask. Clint felt his heart grow heavy with the knowledge that he was probably the only one besides James stupid Barnes who has ever seen a sliver of who Natasha Romanoff really was. It was a privilege and a burden all wrapped in one. He reached out while Coulson was busy typing something on his phone and promptly placed his hand on her knee. Natasha stiffed and immediately shot him a sharp look. Clint just continued to stare at her.

_How far are you going to go Tasha? How far are you going to go? _ He asked with his eyes.

"Agent Hill is being held up in a situation downstairs – she'll meet us on the plane in 10 minutes. Let's make this briefing quick," Coulson said flipping open his own file and pointedly ignoring the intense staring match happening between the two partners sitting in front of him.

Either they were going to _shoot_ each other or jump each other - Coulson didn't particularly want to see the end result of either so he cleared his throat to get their razor sharp attention.

"Director Fury had personally gone to deal with an internal crisis that occurred on a SHIELD base in Romania 6 days ago – the day before your mission in Japan," Coulson explained carefully. The two agents finally tore their eyes away from each other and stared at Coulson.

"And now he got his ass handed to him when the entire operation went to shit and he got gaged and bagged and dragged off from the explosion site to who knows where," Clint deadpanned.

_And this was supposed the best spy at SHIELD?_

Coulson gave him a wary look that clearly said – _don't underestimate THE spy._

"Actually…judging from the last transmission we got from him…I think…well actually agent Hill thinks that he got captured on _purpose_…," Coulson said carefully. Natasha paused as she stared at the table.

"Replay the last communicated transmission again," she said suddenly glancing up and locking eyes with Coulson. He furrowed his brow.

"From his communicator?" he asked carefully. Natasha nodded. Coulson pushed his tablet towards the center of the table and pulled up a sound file.

"It's terrible quality but it's all we have," he muttered before he pressed play. All 3 agents silently watched the sound waves dance across the screen.

"…_Yago is a pain in my ass that is going to get to know the bottom of my boot very well in the near future…," _Fury's voice shouted over the sound of harsh wind blowing in the background.

"_Sir motion in sector 6-" _

_BOOM!_

_"There goes our exit...," _the agent muttered. They heard a round of shuffling and several guns being cocked echoing around the room.

_"Director Fury - that was too easy. I expected more from SHIELD's shining leader," _a new deep voice said with a hint of disappointment in his voice.

_"Yeah well we all can't be perfect spies all the damn time. If we don't let you boneheads win a few rounds you'd lose your minds and do something stupid – that would give me a headache. I don't particularly like headaches," _Fury deadpanned. Clint snickered – he would pay good money to see the jackass' face in response to _that_ statement.

_"Stop mouthing off - you didn't see us coming! You're going to burn Fury. Whether you give us what we want or not," _the deep voice growled.

_"Well...then I'm sure you're not the one who is going to get what you want scar face," _Fury said dryly.

_"Shut up! My men are going to love torturing your agents one by one," _scar face spat.

_"You can break their bodies but you will never break their loyalty," _Fury said carefully.

_"Cut the righteous crap and get on your knees!" _Scar face ordered. There was a moment of scuffling followed by the sound of harsh breathing before they heard an unfamiliar voice speak.

_"Director, it was an honour working with you," _an unknown agent said roughly under his breath.

_"Good agents never give up until there is no one left standing. And even when they do face death alone good agents have the conviction that if they can't finish the job - someone else damn sure will," _Fury said firmly. They heard someone snort in the background.

_"Last minute moral boosting - how sweet," _the sadistic voice said sarcastically_. "Now kill the useless ones - they are the last thing we need," _he said darkly. They all heard the intake of a sharp breath as the sound of the safety on several guns being removed echoed around the room. Natasha didn't think this was a part of the plan Fury had cooked up.

"…_no actually the last thing we need are pretty spiders with wings," _was the final thing Fury said before they heard a round of gunfire.

_BANG! BANG! BANG! _

_Silence. _

Clint and Natasha both solemnly stared at the blank tablet screen for several tense minutes. Too many agents were dying because of this threat. Clint finally tore his eyes away from the tablet and glanced up at his partner.

"Think he is referring to us?" he asked watching the concentrated look flash across Natasha's face.

"Yes. Also the line didn't die – he cut it. There is difference in the frequency change when the sound ended. He definitely wants us to bail out him and his team," Natasha said while staring at the tablet with the sound file on it. She promptly dragged the piece of technology towards her and spun it around to face her. She dragged the play bar back to a certain spot.

'_Well...then I'm sure you're not the one who is going to get what you want scar face,'_

Natasha hit pause and gave her partner a firm look.

"Coulson is right - he's playing the enemy. He wants to interrogate them as they interrogate him. He's there for information and to give a false sense of security and boost their egos by making them think they have the boss and therefore SHIELD will fall to its knees. Overconfident men make mistakes – mistakes give us the edge," Natasha said insightfully. It was a risky play but it was effective. She could see why he went through with it after so many agents have already died – he needed to stop the threat and the only way he could do that was if he figured out where they were hiding to begin with. Coulson nodded his head in her direction – clearly impressed.

"Very sharp agent Romanoff– that is exactly what Hill and I were thinking. And he was right – because they _were_ sloppy after they managed to 'subdue' our SHIELD field team on the ground with him. We had a GSP tracker on the Director that led us to this location," Coulson said as he pulled up a satellite image on his tablet revealing a vast mountain range nestled in the heart of the small Romanian country. He zoomed in on one corner and they could all make out the distinct key signs of a lookout post and fresh set of tracks leading to the base of the mountain.

"Base of enemy operations?" Clint asked hopefully. Coulson shook his head sadly.

"Temporary base – we doubt it's the real snake's den," Coulson said with a sigh. Oh how they wish they could just stab the beast in the heart and be done with them instead of only dealing with its phantom limbs.

"Why did you call us in _now_?" Clint asked carefully. This was brutal. This was one of the most high profile missions they were _ever_ asked to do.

"Tracker stopped transmitting a signal an hour ago," Coulson said evenly.

Silence.

_They had no communication whatsoever?_

"What does that mean for us?" Natasha asked staring at Coulson in a way that meant she already knew the answer. She was asking for confirmation and for her partner's clarification.

"It means we need to get him out without compromising whatever he is trying to do in there," Coulson said seriously. Which meant they couldn't go in there guns blazing. This also explained why _they_ were here instead of a large contingent of SHIELD agents who could just storm the base and take it over by force. However, force wouldn't give them the information they wanted. Force would defeat the purpose of Fury's mission. Clint glanced down at the notes in front of him and narrowed his eyes.

"So who is ex-commander Vasil Yago? Who does he really work for if he is double crossing SHIELD?" Clint asked staring at the face of a man with guarded eyes, a sharply cut beard, a large jagged scar running down the side of his face and a serious expression seemingly permanently plastered on his face.

"Do you know who HYDRA is?" Coulson asked carefully. That got their attention.

"No," Clint and Natasha said in unison. Coulson sighed and tiredly rubbed his forehead.

"It's currently the rising thorn in SHIELD's side. It's an organization that is running systemic illegal operations across the globe. They have their hands in everything from economics, to politics to the entire criminal power system spread out all over the world. We don't know their leader, we don't know their base location, we don't even know their numbers or how long they have been active. All we know is that HYDRA was originally active during WWII and was supposedly taken out by a special unit in the U.S military before the end of the war. We suspect that they have been keeping their direct involved in criminal affairs a secret...until recently," Coulson said staring daggers into the table between the three of them.

"Why have they suddenly put their ugly heads on our radar now Coulson? Why now?" Clint pressed.

"Did you ever figure out what was on the chips you got back for us from Japan?" Coulson asked evenly. Clint and Natasha's interest instantly peaked.

They have been burning to know that piece of information for _days_.

"No – what's on the chip Coulson?" Clint asked leaning forward as he paced his elbows on the table. Coulson took a deep breath – Barton was going to throw a fit.

"We strategically lied. The chip isn't exactly an information storage device. It contains the only sample of the closest semi-working super soldier serum since it was last successfully administered to American WWII military Captain Steve Rogers in 1945," Coulson said with a slight hitch in his voice. Clint furrowed his brow – was that admiration he heard in his handler's voice when he said that dead hero's name?

"But it doesn't work completely," Natasha said steadily. Coulson shook his head.

"No. It is a shadow of the real thing – but it has permanent enhancing effects unlike your enhancers Romanoff," he said slowly. Natasha's eyes instantly shot up to lock with his.

"If the super soldier serum is permanent – can SHIELD make my enhancers permanent?" she asked carefully. Coulson sighed and rubbed his hands over his face.

"But do you _want_ it to be permanent?" Coulson asked quietly. Natasha gave him a piercing look.

"I want to be _me_ Coulson," Natasha said carefully. Coulson gave her a sharp look in return.

"Have you told him about the side effects?" Coulson asked cautiously. Natasha narrowed her eyes. Clint glanced at her warily. More secrets – joy. He was getting tired of them.

"He knows the most important one," Natasha said through gritted teeth. Coulson locked eyes with Clint and confirmed that he knew what she was talking about. Clint simply shrugged.

Her sadistic tendencies were no longer exactly a secret. No wonder she was royally pissed at her appointment.

"We'll try to work that out of your system soon because it looks like it was deliberately put there. We'll talk about permanency later – the only person whose body has ever successfully accepted any type of physical altering serum is not here right now," Coulson said with a sigh. Clint gave him a careful look.

"What happened to Rogers?" Barton asked while watching the expressions filter across their handler's face with a calculative look. Coulson sighed tiredly.

"Died before the war ended. He went down in a self-piloted plane crash to take out a cart load of unstable HYDRA weapons," Coulson said quietly pushing a paper with the end of his pen. The two field agents stared at him.

The man was slightly depressed by this news.

_Odd_. Coulson was usually never affected by _anything_.

"Died a martyr did he?" Clint muttered as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against his seat.

"Like a bright star that went out with a bang," Coulson said with a slight grimace. Natasha steadily stared at a point on the wall above Coulson's shoulder.

"People like him don't exist anymore," she said evenly. Coulson shook his head and gave her meaningful look.

"That's not true," he said quietly. Clint felt Natasha stiffen at the look he was giving them. Looks like that would make any assassin uncomfortable - especially one like her. Clint promptly defused the mounting tension.

"Don't look at us like something we're definitely not Coulson. Hill was right - I hate it - but she is always right. _We're not heroes,"_ Clint whispered with a faraway look in his eyes. He nearly got pulled away by memories of their last mission disaster but at the last second he refocused on the present when he felt a small hand slide itself over his thigh. He took a shaky breath and glanced at her completely stone solid expression that gave nothing away. And yet she kept her hand on his leg. Despite everything - she still _cared_. Russian bastard was an asshole but she cared. He glanced back at Coulson who was watching them with a peculiar look on his face. Clint took a deep breath.

"We are not soldiers fighting to protect our country. I've already tried fighting for my country - the military is not what it is all cracked up to be. They don't play by anyone's rules but their own," Clint said darkly as he clenched his hands into fists. Coulson gave him a wary look.

"So you two aren't agents trying to eliminate the biggest threats to global peace by doing the necessary assignments SHIELD requires of you right?" he asked simply. Clint tensed and promptly looked away.

"The work that needs to be done to make this world a safer place will never be clean Coulson," he said darkly. They may not be spilling innocent blood but their hands were definitely not clean. They would never be selfless role models for the masses. They were not cut from that particular cloth. Coulson glanced at agent Romanoff who simply stared back at him with her intense eyes.

"What he said," she muttered. Coulson sighed and tiredly leaned his forehead against his clasped hands resting on the table.

"And that is why we keep your identities and your faces a secret and you work under code names," he said quietly. Neither agent had any complaints about that particular procedure.

"We're shadow assassins Coulson. We don't need the public glory or the fame. We work in complete anonymity - sometimes it's the only thing that keeps us alive," Clint said quietly. They needed the invisibility to do their jobs right. Natasha shifted beside him and he raised an eyebrow as he found her staring at him again.

"You'd probably die of embarrassment if the whole world knew you were the guy killing bad guys with your medieval weapon of mass destruction Barton," Natasha said out of nowhere. Clint scoffed at her and leveled her with a heavy glare.

"You might be a badass former Red Room asset Romanoff but let me tell you - you were a hell of a lot more terrifying when I didn't know your pretty face and all I had to work with was your insane assassination hit count," Clint shot back. Natasha snorted.

"Oh, do you think I'm pretty Barton?" Natasha said innocently batting her eyelashes at him. Clint stiffened – he didn't know what the hell to say to that.

That was a _damn_ loaded question.

As her partner Hawkeye was professionally obligated to say no.

As her significant other he was obligated to say of course.

Clint just didn't want to answer at all. He started to sweat under her unwavering gaze.

The door suddenly banged open without warning (saving Clint from saying anything about his partner's level of attractiveness) to reveal a stone faced agent Hill who looked ready to burn this place to the ground.

"Time to go," she said curtly.

"Everything alright with the Coun-?" Coulson started to ask but a sharp look from Hill instantly cut him off.

"Coulson. Don't even _go_ there. Any time away from the Council is like a damn vacation," Hill muttered. Clint snorted.

"Oh being at the top sounds like so much fun Hill. You get to spend so much quality time with the tiny brains with big pockets sitting in a stuffy indoor play room all day while us little field agents get to play outside in the real world and get dirty," he said sarcastically. Hill shot him a burning look.

"Junior combat training Barton. _Junior combat training_," Hill said threateningly. Clint narrowed his eyes.

Oh she was asking for war.

"I'll turn them into my own personal flying monkeys and lead a mutiny _myself_," he sneered at her. Hill gave him a challengingly look and promptly whipped her pen at his forehead. Before he could easily stop the flying projectile from stabbing him in the forehead himself a sure hand shot out in front of his face and grabbed the pen right out of the air. He blinked as he turned and saw his partner starting daggers into their superior's head with her fist tightly wrapped around the pen suspended inches from his face.

"Nice reflexes Romanoff," Hill said warily. Usually it was Barton who saved himself from imminent death. Natasha slammed the pen onto the conference table but not a single thing changed on her passive face.

"Don't throw sharp objects at my partner - you might not like where they end up instead," Natasha said carefully with the underlying threat clear in her tone before she stood up, brushed passed their superior and stalked out of the conference room altogether.

Agent Hill stood in the doorway watching one of their newest agents stiffly stalk down the hall and glanced back into the conference room to give agent Barton a wary look as he stared at his partner in slight awe. You'd think the surprises would stop after 9 months.

_You'd think. _

"How on earth did you manage to land a partner that is utterly terrifying and yet _that_ loyal Barton?" Hill asked cautiously. Clint shook his head in disbelief.

What the heck did he do right in his life?

"I ask myself that question everyday Hill," he muttered before he stood up and followed after his deadly partner as well. Hill watched him go with a careful look on her face.

"Is it just me or is there something slightly off since the last time I saw them?" Hill asked Coulson slowly.

"You mean the unholy amount of tension in the air?" Coulson deadpanned. Hill sighed. No subtly at all.

"Sure if you want to put it like that," Hill said warily.

"10 bucks says they are going to be like that for the entire flight," Coulson said to Hill as they walked several paces behind one of their best field teams in the organization.

"We're an intelligence organization Coulson – not a _soap opera,"_ Hill said in disbelief. Coulson paused and glanced at his own superior.

"Assassins starring in a soap opera – would anyone want to watch something like that?" Coulson asked curiously.

Hill threw him a _you have got to be kidding me_ look before she promptly ignored him and stalked towards their waiting jet.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

45 minutes into their flight the silence that hung around the jet was starting to suffocate them all. Agent Coulson was diligently working on getting them set up for when they hit the ground, agent Barton was piloting their ride as usually and agent Romanoff was his dead silent co-pilot watching the sky like it was going to collapse on itself any minute now.

They didn't say a single word to each other since they walked onto this jet. However if you _really_ paid attention you could see them shooting the most dangerous looks out of the corner of their eyes.

_Who is going to crack first huh?_

The situation was going to get desperate soon. Nobody seemed like they were going to try and defuse the tense atmosphere any time soon. Until it all started to grant on agent Hill's already severely stressed nerves. Another ten minutes later she finally cracked.

"Alright that is _it_! I really can't take this shit no more. Both of you get up," Hill ordered as she unbuckled herself from the back of the jet and stalked over to the two agents throwing highly confrontational threats at each other with their eyes.

"_Why_?" they asked in unison staring at her like she just grew a second head. Agent Hill's eyes darkened.

"Because you are going to get us killed if you don't fix your stalemate whatever this is between you two. So go fix it _now_," Hill said pointing towards the back of the jet. Clint gave her an incredulous look.

"Hill we're on a 9 by 6 box-" he started to protest but instantly got cut off as she leaned over their shoulders flipped the autopilot on, grabbed the both of them by the scruff of their collars and hauled them to their feet.

"Get your asses in that washroom and don't come out until you have the tense expressions wiped off your faces," she growled as she actually _dragged_ both assassins across the jet, shoved them into the tiny washroom and slammed the door in their face. Clint and Natasha were left in the awkward position of Natasha practically sitting on the little washroom sink with Clint leaning into her and he stood between her legs. They both determinedly stared at the opposite walls with single minded focus. They needed to use all the damn training they ever had to simultaneously ignore the sparks flying haywire between them and vigorously beat the unwanted sparks down with a mental stick.

_Utter silence_.

"So...I feel like a child who is locked in a washroom for a time out...," Clint said warily.

"Shut up," Natasha muttered. Clint took a deep breath.

"This is pointless," he said angrily rubbing his hands over his face. Natasha crossed her arms over her chest and stared at his shoulder with expertly hidden thoughts clearly flashing through her sharp mind.

"If you see James Barnes...make sure you have an arrow handy and shoot him dead," she said suddenly very serious. Clint paused and slowly lowered his hands from his face and placed them on her shoulders.

"Why?" he asked carefully. Natasha took a deep breath.

"Because he's going to try to kill us now," she said firmly. Clint connected the dots immediately and dark thoughts flashed across his mind - he wasn't stupid.

"You ditched me to talk to _Barnes_?" he asked darkly. Natasha didn't even blink.

"Yes," she said simply.

Clint walked right out of the washroom and slammed the door in her face.

_Ouch_.

He stormed passed their two superiors and took his seat back in the pilot seat. He threw the earphones back over his head and slammed his hand down on the autopilot switch to regain control of the jet. Coulson and Hill both stared at him with matching wary expressions.

"Well that solved nothing," Coulson said casually flipping the page of his notes. Hill irritably pinched the bridge of her nose. Coulson calmly held out his hand as he silently read his notes. Hill's eye twitched before she irritably slammed a 10 dollar bill into his hand.

Coulson's lips curved into a sly smile of _success_.

"We're all going to die," Hill muttered darkly.

"Don't get your panties in a twist Hill. Agent Romanoff and I can still work together fine," Clint said as he readjusted their course towards the unfamiliar coordinates Hill gave him 10 minutes ago.

"Really? You want me to believe that?" Hill asked seriously. Clint didn't even look at her.

"Yes. Watch," he said with a shrug. They all paused as Natasha calmly walked back into the cockpit and took her seat beside her partner.

"Did you double check the thrusters before we took off Barton?" Natasha asked calmly. Clint rolled his neck and gave her a bored look.

"Been a pilot for over 7 years Romanoff – not going to be making a rookie mistake any time soon," he said flatly. Natasha stared at him.

Like _stared_.

Right before he was starting to get just a tiny bit unnerved by her unwavering gaze she ended the silence.

"_Spain_," she said simply. Clint sputtered gracelessly as she threw that curve ball out of nowhere.

"_What_? What rookie move did I do there?" he asked in disbelief. Natasha shrugged and promptly looked away.

"I'll let you sit on that one," Natasha said simply before she slipped her own headphones over her ears and switched the controls over from his side to hers. Clint grumbled likely crude insults directed towards the redhead beside him before he promptly let go of his controls.

If the lady wanted to drive she could _drive_. He wasn't going to stop her.

"I'm taking a nap," he muttered as he slummed in his seat and crossed his arms. Natasha barely shot him an appraising glance.

"Go right ahead," she said steadily as she turned back to watch the sky intently.

"Try not to crash into the Atlantic Ocean," he grumbled as he peeked over the edge and stared at the water 30 thousand feet below. Natasha twitched.

"I'll be sure to wake you up so that you don't drown in your sleep," Natasha said coldly. Clint rolled his eyes.

"_So_ kind of you Romanoff – you're like a cute little cherry pie," he muttered under his breath. The plane titled ever so slightly to the right.

Natasha's face instantly went blank at the same time of the unexpected tilting.

He was a _walking dead man. _

"_Call me a cherry again and I will stab you in the gut with the crow bar hanging on the wall 2 feet beside you and cut your liver out and shove a grenade in its place before I fling your bleeding body out the window and off this jet so that you can bleed to death in the state of free fall you like so much before your half dead body hits the water at 120 miles per hour and is devoured alive by tiny little piranha fuckers,"_ Natasha deadpanned in Russian without missing a beat. Everyone but Clint _stared_ at the creepy morbid words that just came out of her Russian mouth.

Agent Hill and agent Coulson both spoke Russian fluently. They were senior SHIELD agents for crying out loud.

_Nhhhhhhhhhhhh…_but she did _not_ just say right?

Clint just yawned and closed his eyes as he faked sleep. Her insults were getting old – that or he was just getting used to her morbid threats that held more meaning that he cared to look into.

Sometimes Natasha's past assassinations were just _weird_.

He learned to live with it.

"Yeah you can feed the left over pieces of me after the piranhas are done and give it to our virginal cats at home. I'm sure those underfed _beasts_ would simply scream in excitement," Clint said dryly without giving her a single look. Natasha tensed.

Translation:_ The next time we're alone in our apartment I'm going to make you damn scream woman and give our virginal neighbors something to really cry about and lose sleep over. _

That instantly shut her up and left two agents highly confused on what the hell just happened. They knew one thing though – agent Romanoff and agent Barton were just one _insane_ team.

"_That_ is scary as hell," Hill muttered from behind them before she went back to scanning her laptop screen and trying to hack Vasil Yago's communications. Coulson finally glanced up at the two agents sitting side by side at the helm and yet there appeared to be a gigantic wall 500 meters high between the two. He warily glanced at Agent Hill sitting on his left. He suddenly leaned over and taped her on the shoulder with the back of his pen.

"What is it Coulson?" Hill asked patiently while still working through the firewalls.

"Do you have a butter knife?" he asked her suddenly. She paused in her work and stared at him.

"Why?" she asked suspiciously. Coulson shrugged.

"So that I can cut through the unbearable thick tension permeating the air with it," he said simply. 3 agents glared daggers at the only handler on the jet.

"_Coulson_!" they all growled in unison.

.

.

.

**A/N: LOL COULSON IS TROLLING THEM! XD He is such a _troll_. **

**NOTICE ON SEMI-HIATUS: This is _probably_ the last**** chapter I will be posting until June 20th. My exams time is starting soon and so I won't be posting in June. While many of you just finished school in Canada we don't finish school until the middle of June (at least the part of Canada where I live) Sigh. **

**I'm going to miss this story. SOB* 3 weeks of no fanfiction…I think I'm going to die….**

**Bye guys :( I start posting again when my summer starts!**


	92. Chapter 92

**I dare you**

**A/N: LET'S HIT THE GROUND RUNNNING IN THIS MISSION! Sort of.**

**Exams are coming…but I wrote this a little every day for like a week. Usually I write chapters in one sitting…but I wrote this in pieces at the weirdest times in and out of school.**

.

.

**CHAPTER 92**

It's broad daylight and 4 SHIELD agents are standing in a clearing a good mile away from the base of the Romanian mountains from which lay their point of infiltration.

It would have been really nice and clean if they could just storm in there with their guns blazing - but stupid high intelligence important missions meant discreet and discreet meant standing on cold hard forest floor with a shit load of surveillance gear and 2 field agents ready to shoot someone - possibly someone they are not supposed to. Coulson handed Clint a tablet with a digital satellite map of the terrain and gave him a look that said _calm the hell down_.

"So I will be running communications on our base here in the forest while keeping our jet warm and ready for short notice take off. I'll get in contact with a medical team for the director and any other agents who are probably injured along with him. Hill is ready to back you up if you need it - but we're confident you don't," he added swiftly seeing the matching highly insulted looks coming from their field team. Agent Hill rolled her eyes as she stood beside their handler with her arms crossed and an amused look on her face.

"I'm good back up – don't look so insulted," she said dryly. Clint shot her a wary look and could feel the uneasiness radiating off of his partner in waves. If Natasha was the type to shift uncomfortably when something didn't sit well with her she would be shifting right now - instead she was stiff as a board. She was still not used to working with anyone except for him. It was just them against the world for a long time. Being alone with someone for months on end does weird shit to your mental comfort zone – it was probably not a healthy endeavor. Clint took a careful breath.

"We know that. It's not that you're not a good agent – it's just that we have been doing missions completely alone with only each other to watch our backs for a while now. We grew used to...to working by ourselves...," Clint said carefully trying not to sound ungrateful or rude even though he is usually both of those things towards Hill in a normal conversation. Hill chuckled.

Awkward deadly assassins trying to keep their private bubble in the field intact.

It was hilarious to her. Utterly hysterical.

"Take advantage of another set of eyes then. I'm not trying to butt in on your team. I know agents make their own flow with their partners after a long time. You do realize that this troll beside me used to be my partner right?" Hill said casually gesturing towards their handler who had his nose stuck in some file. Coulson snorted.

"That was a nightmare," he muttered under his breath.

Clint and Natasha stared at them.

"You're shitting me," Clint said slowly - nearly on the verge of gaping like a gasping fish. Hill rolled her eyes.

"No I'm not. We used to be little field agents just like you Barton. Now we grew up and took senior roles," she said with a shrug. Clint shook his head as his eyes quickly shifted back and forth between the two agents who must have been born for the position they were currently in because Clint couldn't even fathom a time when they were not his superiors.

"How long was your partnership?" he asked way too curiously not to sound nosy. Natasha pinched the bridge of her nose.

God he was interrogating them like a 5 year old on a sugar rush. Coulson and Hill shared an amused look.

"3 years?" Hill asked raising an eyebrow.

"Are you counting from the Mombasa mission or Santiago?" Coulson asked dryly. Hill's expression darkened.

"Santiago never happened," she hissed. Coulson grinned.

"Keep telling yourself that chica," he said with a shrug. Hill narrowed her eyes and shook her tablet threateningly at him.

"_Ugh_ - there is a reason I accepted my promotion you know," she growled. Coulson snorted.

"Cause you wanted a bigger salary?" he deadpanned. She scoffed.

"My salary is not worth the shit I have to deal with on a daily basis," she muttered as she banged the tablet against the palm of her hand. Oh the shit _she_ had to deal with no one wanted to know. Meanwhile two field agents were watching the utterly ridiculous back and forth conversation like a ping pong match.

"Is that what we are going to sound like in 10 years?" Clint whispered to Natasha. She snorted.

"You better hope not. I have no desire of going up your damn bureaucracy of your organization Barton. I would massacre the council so fast SHIELD agents will be wondering if I did them a service or committed a world class felony," she deadpanned. Cling gave her a wary look.

The thing was he didn't know if she was _actually_ joking. Natasha was notorious for making ridiculous threats - but meaning them quite literally.

"Now you are just being melodramatic," he muttered. Natasha half shrugged.

"No I'm not. The second they even _breathe_ the word promotion we are hitting the road and showing up on CIA doorsteps the next day," Natasha said point blank.

Clint felt his heart involuntarily beat faster when she said _we_. No matter how her words made him feel he wasn't going to give her that one that easily.

"Who said I'd be coming with you?" Clint asked haughtily. Natasha's face didn't even change.

"Italy," she said nonchalantly as she watched him with a neutral look but he could see the seriousness echo in the depth of her eyes. Clint paused as he remembered promising that.

"Right. Italy," he said quietly. So much had happened since their mission in that country. Natasha paused as she misinterpreted his tone.

"If you regret-" she started to say but Clint instantly cut her off with a piercing look.

"I never said I regret Italy. I haven't said anything like what you are trying to imply Natasha," Clint said sharply. Natasha scoffed.

"Oh forgive me for reading your tells loud and clear Barton," she spat. Clint tensed. What the hell was she talking about?

"What tells? What fucking tells?" Clint asked heatedly.

"...Agents. Focus?" Coulson said slowly stepping between the two volatile agents who looked ready to start a brawl.

Damn they heat up fast. Natasha didn't even look at their handler.

"We have focus - just give us the coms and let us do the damn job," Natasha said tensely glaring at her partner like she wanted nothing more than to burn him on a stake. Clint glared right back as his left hand clenched - if he wanted to punch her or shoot her you couldn't tell. Coulson sighed.

Assassins were...

...a pain in his ass.

"We're getting there...just want to make sure you know what type of action you may want to consider taking while you're up there," Coulson said carefully watching the tension on agent Romanoff's face before he put his life on the line.

Oh boy.

"_What. Are. You. Doing_?" Natasha asked dangerously close to flipping her handler on his back as he boldly grabbed her shoulders and forced her to face him and stop burning agent Barton alive with her killer glare.

"Trying to save the poor archer's life. Eyes on me while I'm talking alright?" Coulson said steadily. Natasha's eyes steeled.

Volatile agent stared at handler.

Ever calm handler stared right back.

The fact that agent Coulson wasn't dead said a lot. Natasha hated when men took liberties and felt like they were entitled to treat women like the objects they were definitely not. She hated being touched by anyone at all. However, all she felt in Coulson's grip was solid confidence and firm authority. Natasha still tensed on instinct and gave him a vicious glare that spoke of serious death threats if he didn't let go right this _instant_. When Coulson narrowed his eyes in a way that told them all he wouldn't take any of her intimidation shit Natasha finally huffed and looked away as she toned down the murder in her eyes. Coulson sighed in relief and gave her a grateful look.

Agent Barton and agent Hill both nearly had a heart attack in those 5 seconds of tension. Handler vs. Russian assassin wouldn't even be a fight - that was a death sentence.

Coulson always took way too many risks to get his agents to trust him. One day he was going to take a risk that might just kill him.

"I thought we were just slipping right in and hunting down the holding cells?" Clint asked carefully watching as Coulson dropped his hands from Romanoff's shoulders. He trusted Natasha not to be stupid and follow through with her relatively empty threats - but he was also highly aware that she was not a fan of authority figures.

Clint was pretty sure the only reason she would never do anything to Coulson was because he saved their lives after Colombia - not because she actually liked the agent. Natasha hardly liked anyone at SHIELD. Frankly she didn't even like him right now.

Thank god for twisted Russian assassin morals.

Coulson shifted in place before he took a deep breath and addressed their current situation.

"...yes...but it's easier to move unnoticed when you're by yourself. If both of you go in at once you'll blow cover within 20 minutes," Coulson said warningly. Barton wasn't a novice agent - he knew the odds of double teaming the first scot infiltration in a place that was holding their fellow agents hostage was asking for trouble...but still.

"You want one of us...to infiltrate an organization that has managed to make our _director_ desperate enough to let himself get captured for information - _by ourselves_?" Clint asked carefully. Coulson knew where he was going with that one but quickly soldiered through the rest.

"No. I want agent Romanoff to scot the base while you cover her exit point. Once she locates the cells you'll go in as back up for extraction while Hill takes over covering the exit," Coulson said cautiously. Clint tensed just like Coulson knew he would.

He didn't like the plan.

"That's not how we wor-"

"It's a good plan. We'll do it," Natasha said swiftly butting in. Clint stared at her - they never made decisions that fast without properly weighing their options.

"Who put you in charge of this team?" he asked edgily. Natasha gave him a long look.

"He has better plans then you," she said point blank. Clint's blood started to boil.

"My plans have gotten us out of tight situations _fine_ Romanoff," he said tightly. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Your plans always land us in _shit_," she shot back curtly.

"And yet you're not dead after 9 months of my plans," he growled viciously.

"Do you two never stop antagonizing each other?" Hill asked warily. Clint shot her a deadly look.

"Wouldn't you like to know Hill," he said nastily. Hill scowled at him while Coulson simply hid his smirk from behind his tablet - it was fun to watch her feather's get ruffled by a high dosage of Agent Barton assholery. This was why she wasn't a handler.

The job had too many moody agents to deal with then she particularly liked.

"You know what? Get out of here and get our director back. We're burning daylight," she said promptly putting her foot down on this blatant pissing contest happening right under her nose. Clint scoffed.

"Our pleasure - hand over the coms and we're gone," he said gruffly gesturing towards the small communication devices sitting in the palm of her hand.

"Are you sure you're ready?" Hill asked steadily handing them each their personal com. The two partners simultaneously inserted the communicator in their own ear and stared at their superior with matching determined expressions. Just because they were utterly pissed at the other didn't mean they couldn't do their jobs.

"We were born ready," Natasha said carefully picking up her gun and mission pack and gracefully stalking through the forest with her red pony tail whipping behind her as she went.

"Well Barton...you do pick em dramatic," Hill said warily giving him a look. Clint huffed.

"Shut up Hill before I sick a Russian assassin on you," he muttered before he sharply spun around and stalked away himself. Hill watched as he swiftly caught up to his partner storming through the dense Romanian forest. Romanoff didn't spare him a single glance as he kept pace beside her but she slowed down a fraction as he spoke something quietly to her. The next thing they knew she was giving him the death glare and speeding up with Barton huffing as he followed behind her. Hill frowned.

"We weren't like that were we? They literally act like they can't stand one another and yet they follow after the other without fail," Hill asked slowly while she watched them disappear behind the dense tree line. Coulson firmly shook his head.

"Oh trust me - we were _definitely_ not them," he said carefully.

Hill paused.

"Do I want to-"

"No," Coulson said swiftly cutting her off. Hill stared at him for a long moment. A long, _long_ moment.

It didn't take a genius to read the undertone.

"You do know you're making the call right?" she said evenly. Coulson tapped the tablet screen in his hand and leaned against the jet without looking at her.

"I know," he said quietly staring at the bright screen. Hill took a careful breath.

"And just because he's your friend doesn't mean you can ignore his safety-"

"They're not compromised - not yet," he said quietly interrupting her stiff warning. Hill glanced away and leaned against the jet beside him.

"Well we're going to find out today whether we want to or not," she muttered as she crossed her arms across her chest. Coulson leaned over and knocked his shoulders with hers. Hill stiffened but didn't move away.

"Have some faith Maria," he said watching the colours play across the bright morning sky. Hill sighed and banged her head against the metal surface behind them.

"I kind of wish...that one of these days we meet a pair that can actually make it work...even if we let it happened...," Maria trailed off as she glanced up and stared at his solemn expression.

"I know," he said quietly. Maria instantly looked away and shook her head.

"...but we haven't Phil – because this job doesn't work like that," she said with a sigh before she pulled away from his side and walked into the jet. Coulson stayed outside by himself for another few minutes.

"I know that too," he said finally as he stared at the spot in the forest where one of his best teams just disappeared behind.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Clint promptly stalked away from his superiors and caught up to his storming partner as she bulldozed through the forest with a single minded focus. When he finally was able to match pace with her he instantly struck up a conversation - even if the attempt would be made in vain.

"This reminds me of Colombia," Clint said quietly glancing around the still forest as they made their way towards the mountains. Natasha frowned.

"Colombia was warm. This is a freaking _wasteland_," she muttered as she walked over a dead squirrel - freaking mutilated squirrel. Clint snorted.

"At least there are no narcotic plants in Romania," he said dryly. Natasha shot him a dark look.

"You would just love to keep one of those as a pet wouldn't you?" she asked sarcastically. Clint gave her a blank look. He had something sharper then sarcasm – he had the biting truth.

"No - I'd rather just have you," he said honestly.

Natasha tensed so fast she must of have nearly caused her muscles to spasm dangerously.

"Don't say shit like that like Barton," she said irritably turning away from him. Clint gave her a careful look.

"I don't think you fully understand what the term cold shoulder actually means...," he said steadily. Natasha steeled her eyes and was about to respond harshly when something else caught her attention.

"Shut up Barton," she said instantly switching gears. Clint narrowed his eyes while not quite catching on yet.

"No. Not once did I ever try to give you the impression that I don't want y-dieisbgkseffevds-" Natasha promptly slammed her hand over his mouth to muffle his words and gave him a sharp glare.

"No. Actually _shut up_ Barton," she said seriously as she stared at the ground and narrowed her eyes. Clint finally went silent as he scanned the quiet forest over her head as he listened for whatever she was hearing.

_Crunch_.

"_Guards_," they said at the same time. Clint's eyes darkened and he promptly pulled her hand away from his mouth.

"We can't get caught yet - it will ruin everything," he said under his breath. Natasha frowned.

"Well then use your damn legs and run Barton," she muttered before she ripped her hand out of his loose grasp and bolted through the trees. Clint stared at her back as she practically ran for her life.

"Romanoff running makes _more_ noise," he hissed under his breath into the com link as he shot after her. Natasha shot him a sharp smirk over her shoulder as she outpaced him easily.

"Not if you know how to run properly," she said dryly as she flaunted her 10 foot lead on their silent sprint. Clint scowled at her back.

"What did you have a red room crash course on stealth running or something?" he asked irritably trying to catch up to her. Natasha paused as a dark memory of her running barefoot through snow with gunshots echoing in her ears as a child flashed across her eyes. However she didn't dwell on those memories for long - they were in the past. This was her future.

"You'll never know for sure will you archer whose slow as a mule?" she taunted to cover up her slip. Clint scowled as he kept his ears open for the lovely friends they were trying to avoid in the area. He glanced up to see how far ahead she was and realized she was nearly out of sight. If he couldn't hear her steady breathing in his ear across the com link he would have flipped his shit.

"This is unfair - you try running with surveillance equipment that weighs a shit load of pounds," he hissed as he flew passed the trees as silently as he could with a back load of weapons.

He got no answer. His expression darkened.

"God damn you Romanoff you actually left me behind and ran for it?" Clint growled under his breath as he lost sight of her completely. He listened as she snorted in his ear but remained annoyingly silent for a few minutes. When he started to get antsy she broke the communicator silence.

"Mountain is unhelpfully huge 20 yards up ahead," came the curt professional but delayed response. Clint scowled at the ground as he approached the mountain himself.

"Was that a lag or were you just being an ass?" Clint muttered under his breath.

No answer. Clint huffed and stomped angrily out of the forest and scanned the base of the tall rough grey mountain that was just _begging_ to be carved out and turned into an enemy base of operations. Clint narrowed his eyes when he didn't see his partner anywhere.

"Where are you Tasha?" he asked carefully listening to her breathing suddenly just stop. He narrowed his eyes - she was holding her breath.

A wave of red instantly flashed him in the face from above his head and he reacted on instinct. He had his bow expanded in his hand and an arrow trained to the unknown threat above him all within in the span of a fraction of a second. He tensed as he stared into the upside down bored green eyes of the world's most insane deadly Russian assassin.

"Give me your pack," she said gesturing towards his sniper pack while tactfully ignoring the familiar arrow in her face. It reminded him too much of how they met and Clint cursed and instantly dropped his threatening aim away from her.

"Damn it Tasha give a man a warning will you?" he said angrily clenching his fist around his bow. Natasha ignored his frustration and held out her hand expectantly.

"Pack," she said calmly. Clint narrowed his eyes at the Russian hanging from an extension rope she had attached to a cliff 20 feet above them - well _she_ was dramatic.

"Are you asking to be shot?" he asked stiffly. Natasha glanced to their left and sighed.

"Enemy is 20 yards down the road Barton - give me your pack and get your ass up here," Natasha said steadily. Clint glanced up at the several hundred feet they had to climb to make it to their chosen entry point.

"By up there do you mean upside down like you? What are trying to do? Be the next spider-woman?" he asked skeptically. Natasha gave him a blank look - he should have thought that one through.

_Cricket. Cricket. Cricket._

Clint paused when it all clicked.

Codename: Black Widow. _Right_. Barton felt like an idiot. Natasha gave him the arrogant little smirk when she saw the realization flash across his face. Clint glared at her.

"Shut up Romanoff. What type of spider is the widow anyway?" he muttered unhappily.

"A ruthlessly deadly one," she replied flatly without missing a beat. Clint faltered in his indignation and broke his cold shoulder rule for just a moment so that he could touch her cheek while she was still upside down because he couldn't let her think that.

"Not ruthless. Harsh and a little rough around the edges - but not ruthless," he said softly stroking her face. Natasha took a deep breath as she gave herself 3 seconds to give into his touch before she firmly pulled his hand away – he was a dangerous temptation during a mission.

"30 seconds till we're spotted. Give me your pack and let's go Barton," she repeated firmly because they could climb a hell of a lot faster if she took half the weight. Clint's eyes hardened because this wasn't about mission logic - this was a question of his dignity and his pride.

And he had a heck of a lot of both.

"I can carry my own gear _fine_ Romanoff," he growled a bit harsher then he intended to before he grabbed onto the rock with his glove covered hands and started climbing without another word. Natasha gracefully righted herself so that she was no longer the upside down spider Russian and effortlessly matched his anger fueled speed. They were a good 25 feet up in the air before she said anything - and when she did she didn't even really mean for him to hear.

"What is the point in having a partner if you're going to be doing the one man show anyway?" she muttered under her breath as she grabbed onto the wall of rock and sharp edges and followed beside him. She refused to look at him so she missed the slight shift in his expression as her words rang in his ears.

The next thing Natasha knew a heavy bag of surveillance equipment was promptly shoved into her face. She blinked as she wordlessly accepted the load - she didn't expect him to _actually_ back down from his prideful stance and listen to her. He actually _listened_ to her.

"Stop looking at it like it is going to grow legs and runaway - keep climbing Romanoff," he said gruffly. Natasha swung the pack over her shoulders and like she predicted - they were able to climb at least 3 times faster now that he wasn't carrying his riffle and the surveillance equipment.

"You actually listened to me," she said slowly - like she didn't truly believe it. No one listened to her unless she had them on their knees begging for release or a gun in their face and their life in her hands. There was no other reason a man would listen to her...right? _Right_?

The longer she was partners with him the more she was starting to reluctantly realize that she didn't know men at all – at least not all the types of men out there. Especially not the good ones.

On a scale of 1 to 10 what level of a good man was Clint Barton anyway? He sure wasn't the worst – but she doubted he was the best either. Clint sighed as he heard the doubt in her voice.

"I always listen to you Tasha - I just don't always agree," he replied quietly. Natasha felt something warm tug at her chest and she promptly _stabbed_ it before it made her do something stupid. They both instantly stopped moving when they heard the telltale sound of feet hitting the cold Romanian forest floor. They glanced down and finally caught sight of 4 buff men all dressed in identical black. Clint and Natasha narrowed their eyes.

HYDRA guards.

_Don't look up. Don't look up. Don't look up. _They chanted in their heads.

_"Did you hear who we got locked up on base right now?"_ one of the shorter guards asked the other 3 while remaining completely oblivious to the two SHIELD agents plastered to the mountain side 70 feet above their heads. They weren't scanning the mountain side because it was broad daylight - most people would not be crazy enough to try an infiltration in broad daylight.

Agent Barton and agent Romanoff never did things quite the same way as the rest of the world spy population. Another one of the guards chuckled darkly.

_"I h__eard better - I heard them actually screaming as I passed the holding cells on level 5_," the other dark haired guard said with a sadistic smirk on his face that rivaled Natasha's. But at least her eyes turn angrily regretful after those types of thoughts flashed through her mind - this guy seemed to genuinely enjoy his messed up thoughts.

He was also stupid enough let slip exactly which floor they needed to hunt down when they got in there.

_"Wish they'd let us share the fun - I heard Americans love to scream," _another guard said with a disturbingly wistful sigh.

Clint's blood started to boil – _how dare they?_ Just before he could fire his weapon and stick a bloody arrow in their eyes a firm grip on his shoulder halted him in place. His angry eyes flashed up to lock with a sharp green gaze as his livid thirst for blood flared in his blue ones.

'_Revenge doesn't help. Trust me I've tried' _she attempted to say with her eyes. He probably didn't understand in those exact words - but her intention was loud and clear.

Don't do something stupid Coulson will make sure you regret.

_They were his fellow agents. Their bravery was being mocked. What they stood for was being mocked. Their honour was being mocked. _His eyes screamed back at her with _his_ thoughts.

Natasha just tightened her grip on his shoulder and shook her head. Not right now - not yet. Once they got the director out it was firefights to their heart's content. Cling gritted his teeth and promptly looked away - but he didn't fire a single arrow.

When the cavalry of HYDRA guards finally passed and disappeared around the curve of the mountain side the two agents were finally able to breathe easily again. Clint irritably shrugged her hand off his shoulder and took several calming breaths.

"I _hate_ bastards like them," he growled as he tightened his fist around his bow. Natasha's eyes instantly hardened as she stared holes into the rocky surface in front of her.

"Yeah well they probably hate you too," she muttered as she readjusted the backpack on her shoulders to evenly distribute the weight. Clint leveled her with a heavy calculative look as he noticed the slight tension festering beneath the surface of her calm mask.

She didn't fool shit.

"You're not them Natasha…," he said slowly. Natasha chuckled darkly at his naivety and shook her head. Her slightly disturbing laughter died off and she pinned him with a challenging stare.

"How sure are you about that Agent Barton?" she asked carefully before she brushed passed him and continued their dangerous climb towards the opposite side of the HYDRA lookout post. Clint narrowed his eyes as he followed up after her. He really hated when she did that. He really hated when she tried to mess with his head and get him to doubt her allegiances. He knew Natasha didn't believe in allegiances – she only believed ledgers, debts and death threats. But he was also pretty damn sure she was starting to believe that trust was actually possible. They trusted each other to watch their backs in a fight and in the field – but Hill was wrong – he didn't have Natasha's loyalty. Not yet.

However, absolute loyalty was something he wasn't quite sure Natasha would give anyone in her entire life. Clint instantly reached out and grabbed her hand to stop her for a moment and waited until she glanced back down at him. Clint gave her a firm look.

"We both knew there's no such thing as certainty – but I'm trying and you're trying to make this partnership work otherwise you wouldn't have come back even after chatting up your ex-partner who you just said _wants to kill us," _he stressed as he gave her a look that clearly said he was still not happy about that little detail but he wasn't about to start another fight about it. Natasha just returned his stare with a bored look.

"Is there a point in what appears to be the start of one of your longwinded partner speeches Barton or do you just enjoy listening to your own voice all day?" she asked flatly. Clint narrowed his eyes – little miss deflection really knew how to test his patience – but he was a man with an unholy amount of patience.

"Point is Tasha that we have a long way to go – but at least we have a start okay? We'll do team building exercises and everything if we have to – but we're going to keep making it work," he said seriously. Natasha watched his eyes burn with determination and finally just sighed.

He was persistent.

He was annoying.

He was reckless.

He was cocky.

Out of all things that he was – only one word could truly sum him up in her head.

"You are truly, the _strangest_ man, I have _ever_ met Barton," Natasha deadpanned as she patted him on the head like dog. Clint instantly flushed as pink spots coloured his ears. Was that supposed to be an insult or a compliment?

"What is _that_ supposed to mean exactly?" he demanded still not sure if he should be insulted or not. Natasha shrugged.

"Whatever you want Barton," she said as she pulled her other hand out of his grasp and resumed their original purpose of loitering on a remote mountain side. Clint shot her several suspicious looks as they continued their steady climb while working against the sun that would be setting on this side of the world in less than 15 hours. Natasha felt his irritation flare beside her and smirked.

"You know if you really think about it being strange is not that -_shit_!" she said sharply as she suddenly felt the rock under her foot crumble and she instantly lost her grip on the rock. She roughly scraped her palms against the sharp rock as she tried to stop her dangerous descent. However, before she really lost her chance at survival and arm shot out and tightly grabbed her wrist while tugging her arm nearly right out of its socket.

"_Careful_!" Clint hissed as he tightly gripped her hand and held up all her weight while simultaneously holding onto the edge of the cliff and keeping them both from _actually_ falling to their deaths. Natasha gritted her teeth as she stared at the several hundred foot drop below them.

"I _am_ careful – it's not my fault the rock wanted to give out underneath the combined weight of your sniper junk and me," she growled as she angrily tugged at the branch his backpack got stuck on with her only unoccupied hand. She steadily ignored that fact that the only thing preventing her from falling to her death was her partner's tight grip on her wrist.

What better way to test the tentative trust developing between them then when they actually need it?

"Hurry up before this gets any worse Tasha. And don't drop the pack– we need it," he said through clenched teeth. He also needed her to grab onto something before she slipped out of his grasp that just was going to go slack any second now. She really needed to grab something _right_ _now_.

"3 more seconds Barton," Natasha muttered as she gave one last hard pull and yanked the pack free of the branch. Natasha instantly swung the pack back onto her shoulders and promptly flipped her hand around to have a better grip on his hand. She grabbed onto another more stable rock with her other free hand to keep her from slipping out of his grasp completely. They both took a deep breath as they mentally confirmed that the other wasn't dead yet.

"You okay?" Clint said tightening his hold on her and glancing up at the 3 more feet they had left before they reached their desired perched. He heard Natasha huff.

"Just stick your concern up your ass or leave it for a second and drag us both onto the damn ledge _first_ Barton," Natasha said irritably glaring at the rock – her arms were starting to burn. Clint frowned but understood where her irritation was coming from. He wordlessly clenched his teeth before he grabbed onto the cliff edge above them and hoisted himself onto it first before turning around and yanking her effortlessly up as well. Since they were no longer hanging off unstably rocks 500 feet in the air the adrenaline promptly plunged and they felt the exhaustion rush to the forefront of their brains like a tsunami wave of fatigue.

They both inhaled a deep breath before they instantly collapsed onto the ledge as all their muscles ached and burned from their near death experience and the sheer amount of energy it took to scale just 500 feet of a mountain that felt like it went on for miles.

"Try not to shave years off my life like that Tasha," Clint wheezed as he stared up at the sky. Natasha huffed beside him.

"Wasn't try to scare your dwindling years away Barton. Grey hair at 24 is severely unattractive," she mumbled as she promptly rolled herself over and sat up. Clint pushed himself off the ground and gave her an unexpectedly warm look.

"Glad to know you still think I'm attractive even after you cuffed me to a washroom railing," he said calmly. Natasha stiffened as his confident tone washed over her. She wasn't one to give compliments unless it was part of an act – but he wasn't a vain man who needed them.

It didn't really matter when they both already knew it was true.

"Link up back to Coulson and tell him we made in up the damn mountain in one piece and without killing each other," she muttered as she fished their necessary surveillance equipment out of his backpack. Clint obediently tapped his com link on but reached out and instantly stopped her motions as he grasped her right hand. Natasha stared at his warm hand wrapped around her much smaller but still deadly wrists. The intensity of her stare increased as he gently brushed his thumb over her pulse and felt him smile silently as he felt her heart rate spike like he hoped it would. Natasha's reactions always said a million things she would never voice in words.

Natasha scoffed and looked away as he continued to grin at her. _Cheating bastard._

"Hey Coulson we're getting into position. Keep us posted on the satellite image and tell us if the guards change their ground formation. We're going to start up surveillance now and wait it out until nightfall. Then we'll eliminate the watch guards and Natasha will do preliminary scouting. Is everything good on your end?" Clint asked his voice steady and completely focused. He didn't even sound like he was worried about how this mission was going to end at all.

She would have believed it if he wasn't crushing her wrist in his unrelenting grasp. There were certain times she believed his words and certain times she didn't believe a single shit that came out of his mouth. He was a professional liar like her after all.

"Everything is fine. Med team will be on standby. Just make sure you _actually_ wait until it's dark – otherwise they'll spot you and it's game over," Coulson warningly. Natasha rolled her eyes. Handlers – they always forget that they were field agents who did their crap missions without any backup whatsoever 95% of the time.

"Got it – we'll report if we have anything to share," Clint said before he cut the line to save power – communicators worked for only so long. Now that left them in momentary silence which for some _strange_ reason Natasha felt the need to break – she would never act on that need ever again after this one time.

"Stake out time. The joys of notorious spyhood," Natasha deadpanned. Clint paused as he replayed exactly what she just said.

"Are you trying to be funny…?" he asked bewilderedly. Natasha scowled at him.

"Do you want me to steal your arrows and shove them up your ass?" she shot back viciously. Clint grimaced - _graphic_.

"Not particularly no…unless you're into that sort of kinky stuff," he said thoughtfully as he grimace slowly morphed into a sly, sly smirk. Natasha looked as scandalized as a Russian assassin who has seen every trick in the unwritten spy seduction book and who prided herself in her emotional self-control could.

"You have a death wish don't you?" she hissed. Clint grinned. _Only if the name of my executioner starts with N and ends with A and has the sexiest angry green eyes in the world. I would die a happy man if I got a nice intense kiss before I was hung too. _

"Do I?" he asked ambiguously. Natasha huffed before she turned away from the rough currently amused face that thoroughly liked to piss her off and pulled out their tablet. She flipped through their mission files and adamantly ignored him.

"Whatever. Go die with your head in a snake hole like a stupid ostrich would do for all I care. Start the timer. We're going to be here a while," she said curtly as she prepared to track the lookout guards rotation hours so that they knew how long they had after they took out one set of guards before the second shift would show up and their cover of surprise is blown. Clint's playfulness instantly deflated.

"Ass," he grumbled. Natasha's eye twitched.

"Bastard," she shot back simply because he was a child.

"Cold Russian slimy eel," he muttered.

Natasha stared at him.

"_An eel_? Really Barton?" she asked in disbelief. Clint shrugged carelessly.

"You're worst then a snake and I heard European eels are an endangered species," he muttered petulantly. Natasha's eyes steeled.

"Are you trying to imply that I'm an _endangered species?"_ Natasha asked threateningly as her red hair practically crackled in the air around her tight ponytail. Clint eyed her hostile body language and carefully shifted back to increase the space between them. He doubted she would kill him – but he _definitely_ didn't doubt she would punch him.

"I don't think you want to know the answer to that inquiry Tasha," he said warily. Natasha eyed his causal but definitely alert posture for several tense seconds before she finally decided he wasn't worth the waste of energy.

"Shut up and set up your stupid baby Barton," she said tiredly shoving the mission pack back into his own hands.

Clint scowled looking highly insulted.

"My riffle's not my baby. Josie is my baby," he said holding up his most prized possession. Natasha paused and literally had to _replay_ what he just said twice in her head before she believed the words that came out of his mouth.

"You named your bow…," Natasha said slowly staring at the well-kept weapon sitting neatly in his hand. Clint shrugged like it wasn't the weirdest thing in the world.

"Why not? Don't you name your favourite guns?" he asked curiously. Natasha gave him a look that said – _are you kidding me?_

"Take a second to think about what you _just_ said Barton. You personified an _inanimate_ object," she continued slowly. Clint gave her a sidelong look before his expression morphed into a sly smirk.

"Are you jealous Tasha?" he asked tilting his head to the side. Natasha scowled as anger flashed across her eyes.

"It's not possible to be jealous of a piece of wood and metal Barton," she said stiffly. Clint wagged his eyebrows at her. She was acting more stiff then during his little flirting cover in the Tokyo airport.

Apparently his bow was bigger competition then foreign Japanese flight attendants. He didn't really blame her – Josie was _awesome_.

"I think you're jealous," he said clearly amused as he watched a ruffled Black Widow defend her own dignity.

"I think you want to be kicked in the head," she hissed. Clint just laughed.

"I think you're jealous of Josie," he said with a grin. Natasha glowered at him. She was seconds away from _flinging_ him off the cliff and gleefully watching him _flail_ like a flightless bird as he fell to his doom and became a Barton pancake.

That was a very satisfying mental image. Satisfying enough not to actually do it – this time.

"Shut up and get your damn riffle ready and aimed to blow some brains out," she growled before she promptly turned away from him and tapped her communicator to link them back to Coulson and Hill – she had something to say.

"You want us to breach the base after sunset – I understand why. But the longer we're out here the longer they have the director and his team under hostile conditions you know that right?" Natasha said carefully watching their target entry point with a sharp look. She was going to have fun beating up some bastards after only having Barton to spar with for _weeks_ – she could only do so much damage to him before she actually broke something he might need in the field. Like his wrists…or his ribs…or his ankles. The begrudgingly useful stuff that made a satisfying _snap_ when she managed to land a series of hits that broke all three at once. Coulson who was oblivious to her morbid internal rambles answered swiftly and professionally as always.

"We know - but if we make a mistake and give our position away he's dead. They don't know that we are here - let's try to keep it like that please. Whatever you do in there - don't catch their attention agent Romanoff," Coulson said warningly.

Natasha scoffed - her catching unwanted attention?

_Please_. If Natasha Romanoff wants to be the center of attention she has all eyes on her within seconds. If she wants to be a shadow wall flower you wouldn't even know she was there. If she wanted to sucker punch the smirk off her partner's face - well that was just a given.

The bastard was asking for it.

.

.

.

**A/N: Yeah so if you checkout my profile I quit all my other stories...but I don't think I quit this one yet. Sorry life just got really crazy...and my family kind of told me to delete my account...and it's just nuts. :S  
**


	93. Chapter 93

**I dare you **

**A/N: I LIVE! **

**LOL. Yeah so my exams are next week and I HAVE been preparing for them. Like I said I'm continuing I dare you – but my other stories are on hold until real summer starts. **

**BTW you should read slowly and thoroughly enjoy this chapter…because it's the last Clintasha chapter for a while before crazy shit start happening. Like scary, creepy shit.  
**

**Just a heads up.  
**

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**Chapter 93**

Clint and Natasha were both still perched on their designated cliff with a direct view and shot of their current targets manning the HYDRA lookout post across the wide gap between the mountains. Natasha was clearly the more agitated one of the two.

They had the shot to get this stupid party started and yet here they were waiting and it was starting to drive her crazy. Stupid sun was taking a damn long time to set. Coulson and Hill were radio silent so they were still confident the director was not actually dead. And her partner wasn't even twitching let along looking bored. Sometimes she was jealous of his natural sniper abilities. Natasha banged her forehead against the rocky ground and tightly gripped the binoculars in her hands.

"I forgot how _boring_ stakeouts could be," she muttered beside her perfectly still partner who hadn't moved an inch in _hours_ as he idly stared through his sniper scope.

"Getting impatient already? It's only been 11 and a half hours Tasha," Clint said with a chuckle. Natasha scowled at him.

_Only 11 and a half dear Tasha_ he says. _Bastard_.

"I finish entire jobs in less than half that time," she grumbled. Clint didn't even bat an eyelash.

"That's because you are fast and messy," he said calmly. Natasha sputtered in insult.

"Poison is not messy," she growled. The edge of Clint's lips twitched.

"You never just poison them Tasha - you like to take out targets with a bang," he said thoroughly amused by her little competitive reactions. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Prove it - name one," she challenged. Clint calmly continued to watch their guards move around their post and silently enjoyed the irritation coming off his partner in waves.

"Hoffa and probably Takashi if the rat wasn't a suicidal wimp," he said simply. Natasha's eyes darkened and she promptly looked away from him and his perfect sniper posture she has still never managed to replicate - she just wasn't meant to be a sniper.

Didn't mean she couldn't do the job in a pinch though.

"Hoffa deserved being blown up," she said curtly. Clint paused in his scanning of the area and replayed her tone in his head.

"_Right_. And it had nothing to do with the fact that I was surrounded 40 to 1 and the bastard forced you to shoot me to give us a fighting chance," he said calmly. Natasha tensed and nearly broke the binoculars in her hands.

"Don't get too cocky. I nearly ditched your beaten and bruised ass after that disaster," she muttered darkly. She decided to stay at the last minute and here they were 3 months later. Clint shrugged casually even if inside he felt his heart clench. She had almost left so many times.

"But you didn't," he said simply. Natasha stared at the 500 foot fall over the edge and she wondered what it would take to rile him up when he was in sniper mode.

"Maybe I should have," she muttered. She didn't feel him tense at her comment like he normally would if they were off mission. Barton in eternally calm sniper mode was one of the moments when he was the absolute deadliest.

Give him a bow and then you're dead before you hit the ground.

"Too bad. You're stuck with me now," he said with a confident smirk. Natasha cocked her shotgun and instantly pressed it against the side of his forehead without even looking away from their targets. He didn't even flinch.

In fact the bastard was cocky enough to actually tilt his head and give her a better shot at blowing his brains out.

_Ugh_. He took the fun out of intimidation.

"I can still thoroughly kick your ass. Forget your stupid perfect aim. Shotguns are always going to win at short range," she said firmly as she went back to looking through her binoculars. Clint took a deep breath and felt the pressure against his face fall as she dropped the gun to rest in the space between them.

"The best team is one where you can complement each other's best skills right?" he said quietly. Natasha paused as she considered his words.

"The best team is the one that doesn't end up _dead_," she said briskly before she glanced over their shoulder and watched the sun dip and disappear. Show time.

"Sun's down. Time to finally get this party started," she muttered as she pushed herself off the ground and sat up. Clint could practically _feel_ her ready to fling herself across the valley and actually do something other than waiting. She wasn't fond of waiting.

"Impatient," he said rolling his eyes. Natasha ignored his amused tone.

"Just watch you scope. I'm going to take them out as silently as possible. Don't shoot unless you want to me dead," Natasha muttered. Clint gave her a long look. Natasha saw his _are you kidding _me expression but shrugged.

"_Assassins_," she said unapologetically.

"_Tasha_," he said evenly.

"Just stating precautions Barton," Natasha said casually.

"You're discrediting all my hard work," Clint said stiffly. Natasha cocked an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Oh hand work eh? Hard work in what exactly Barton?" she asked tilting her head to the side as she played the airhead woman with the big eyes. Clint narrowed his sharp gaze.

Natasha was anything but unintelligent - her enhancers notwithstanding - even as Natalia she was far from incompetent. She was an ingenious spy, strategist and based on her little show in the dance club a very good escape artist.

Which meant she was simply messing with his head.

Clint finally shifted away from his scope for the first time in 11 hours and the first thing he does is grab her hand. The second thing he does flick her forehead to try and get rid of the annoyingly fake expression on her face.

"First of all - cut the acting crap. Second of all there is a reason I use arrows instead of bullets - less noise. Less reaction time. Cleaner shot," he said carefully. Natasha expression went from wide eyed to a hardened sharp gaze in an instant.

"What good are arrows at close range?" she muttered. Clint leveled her with a stare that made her feel like they were having two different conversations at once.

"Trust me. Just because we've been doing missions that require more discreet weaponry doesn't mean my preferred affects aren't good at close range," he said warningly. Natasha gave him a piercing look in return.

"If I get shot in the dark because someone got lucky it's your fault," was all she said before she ripped her hand out of his too warm grasp and angrily turned away from him.

Clint took a sharp breath and finally had enough of their ridiculous cold war styled fighting. He roughly yanked her back causing her to crash into him. He made a split second threat assessment and when he felt no knives digging into his skin he deemed it fairly safe to continue on his single minded plan. If she _really_ didn't want to be manhandled she wouldn't have let him - she had always been the better close combat fighter.

So when he shoved her back against the cliff side - it was only possible because she allowed it. When he captured her lips in a bruising, toe-curling kiss - it only happened because she allowed it. When he laced their fingers together and deepened the kiss - she had to have wanted to kiss him too.

If she didn't?

She would have kicked his ass a long, long time ago. Clint Barton was an unbelievably lucky man...eh...depending on whom you asked. Some people would still consider being trapped in the Widow's web a death sentence.

Clint Barton however had always been a cheeky bastard that liked to flirt with death since he was 17 years old.

_Self-preservation skills...?_ There was no such thing.

The second Natasha felt his tight grip around her wrist and caught sight of the fire in his eyes she knew what he was going to do. It was stupid and highly inappropriate considering where they were - but she let him do it anyway. After a while you get tired of fight the person that is supposed to be on your side in the field. There were some things you just couldn't say in words. She carefully wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged him down close so that she wasn't straining to meet his heated lips.

If he was a smart man he would be wary of the fact that the Black Widow had her deadly arms wrapped around his easily breakable neck. Since he was _Clint_ he didn't give a shit about dangerous – never did really. Since she was _Tasha_ right now she wouldn't be able to end him even if she _did_ feel like beating him up sometimes. When he felt her finally start to kiss him back he relaxed his bruising grip on her hands and softened the kiss. He drew his right hand that was still wrapped around her left up to her face and gently stroked her cheek urging her to open her eyes. When she finally got the message green eyes met blue and the sincerity in his eyes nearly knocked the breath right out of her lungs if he wasn't already doing a _thorough_ job of stealing her air right now.

Natasha felt some of the tight tension coiled in her stomach loosen as she read the meaning of his look in his eyes.

_Just because I was unbelievably pissed at you never meant I didn't want you_.

Clint Barton was _far_ from an open book, he had better masks then she did herself sometimes - but he made things almost painfully obvious for her to see when it mattered.

Half the things that matter they never said in words and would never say in words - lest the words rang true like a self-fulfilling prophecy.

_You're going to fight and there will always be a chance of me losing you._

_I'm going to fight and there will always be a chance of you losing me. _

_But we're both going to fight tooth and nail because we don't want to lose either of us to our jobs, our demons or the world. _

Clint promptly pulled away from her tempting lips before they both ran out of air and pressed his forehead against her cheek as they struggled to catch their breaths. He tightened his grip on her waist and held her closer.

"If you think you're walking into there without perfect backup you don't know me _at all_," he growled against her ear. Natasha tried to pull back and glare at him with a few choice words of her own but he didn't let her move an inch because he wasn't done yet. "I'll kill them all 10 times over with my bow or my rifle - it doesn't matter because they are _never_ going to have the _chance_ to fire at you Tasha. _I won't let them_," he promised darkly in her ear. Natasha couldn't stop an involuntarily shiver from going up her spine when his deadly promises rang in her ears. She knew he felt it too when he held her tighter. Natasha finally just gave up fighting because it was too much effort to fake struggle and not accidentally hurt him in the process - then Coulson would bitch at her and she would end up in an even fouler mood.

She breathed heavily and didn't know what to say after something like that - other than the fact that he was breaking mission protocol and that she really had to get moving. But she knew he wouldn't appreciate her saying something he already knew himself so for once in her entire SHEILD career she just decided to say nothing at all. She was too breathless to even try anyway.

Clint didn't wait for an answer before he buried his face in her hair and held her tightly as he breathed in deep breaths of her calming scent of soap, gunpowder and something that was just _Natasha_. Sometimes reading faces and understanding the unsaid words that always hung in the air between them was the only way their relationship worked.

Clint held onto her for another few stolen seconds before he finally mustered up enough strength to pull away from her tempting embrace. She did nothing to stop him as she let her arms hang at her sides. He was fully out of her reach within 5 seconds and on the other side of the perch with 10. He took several steps away from her and ran a hand turn his windswept hair as they both looked away guilty.

That _really_ shouldn't have happened while on mission. Clint clenched his hands into fists and firmly stared at the ground. He promised her if they were ever truly compromised he would walk away.

He wasn't going to let that happen – he didn't think he would survive leaving her.

"Time to go," he said evenly without looking at her. They had a job to do. He didn't hear her move behind him because she was an expert at moving without making a sound – but he felt the moment she eased herself over the edge when her eyes stopped burning into the back of his head. Clint sighed and finally turned around to drop back into position with his rifle when he was sure she was a good distance down the cliff so that he couldn't see her from his angle.

He didn't think he could let her go in there alone if he watched her leave his sights. It was unfounded worry on his part. Natasha was frankly much better at taking care of herself in closed quarter than he ever would be. She would stab him if he ever implied otherwise. But try telling that to the irrational fears that twisted in the archer's heart. Sometimes he understood why most SHIELD agents tried to avoid relationships amongst themselves – it was stressful being with someone whose job was the definition of dangerous and life-threatening. It was even worse if you were partnered with them and had to watch them get hurt every single day. Clint leaned his forehead against the back of his rifle – but he never really had a choice. He wanted her to be safe…but he needed her to be his partner like he needed air. He could hear her steady breathing in his ears so that was reassuring enough. They were both quiet as she silently made her way towards the other side of the two mountains. Clint watched they targets move around still oblivious to their threatening presence. He took a deep breath and decided to tell her something while they were still in this limbo of mad and not mad at each other.

"Maybe you won't need my protection today or tomorrow Tasha. Maybe we'll run a perfect Op for once in our cursed mission lives. Maybe you'll thoroughly beat the shit out of every enemy we face in the foreseeable future like you usually do. But we both know you're past isn't disappearing, your past is still following you wherever we go and one day we're going to have to deal with it. One day someone has to pull the trigger on the Red Room. One day I'm going to kill the people who messed with your head and stole your childhood from you Tasha - if you want me to," he said carefully – leaving the final decision up to her. It was always her fight. He was just a reliable weapon if she chose to use him.

Natasha paused in her descent and leaned her forehead against the jagged rocks of the cliff as she felt the deep vibrations of the solid threat in his voice echo in her ears. No one has ever offered her something like that before. Damn she thinks her assassin heart just spasmed.

Natasha roughly banged her fist against the rock and told herself to _get a damn grip woman_. She firmly shook her head and tried to get stupid American agents off her mind. It was a fruitless goal.

_Holy shit she was partnered with an intense mad-archer who was half way to driving her insane with him. _

But she knew despite how slightly off he might be - Clint Barton kept his promises.

"I'll think about your offer," she muttered reluctantly. Clint smiled slightly. Natasha Romanoff actually considering to let someone else do her dirty work for her?

That was simply unheard of and probably only an exception due to the person who was offering in the first place.

"That's fine," he said calmly. They had time for now.

Clint tapped his communicator on as he listened in suppressed satisfaction as his clearly flustered partner made her way down the mountain. Despite their rather scary brutal clashing she was his and he was hers, but he knew deep down that he would probably murder someone if she ever genuinely looked at another man the way she looked at him when he kissed her. The raw emotions she shows him in those short moments are real. She can seduce as many marks as she wants as long as it's not real. He knows what real Natasha looks like what he has her pined where he wants her. Clint's eyes darkened. If she ever ended up actually wanting someone that wasn't him she'd probably have to kill him first before he killed that bastard who took her from him.

Clint suddenly shook his head and tried to shove those thoughts into some dark corner of his brain. Not that he would ever tell her any of his darker feelings. Natasha would stab him just on the basis of thinking like he had any say in who she wanted. She would call him a disgusting caveman and probably avoid him for the rest of eternity - and he wouldn't blame her. Sometimes he even scared himself with the intense emotions he had for her. All he could really do was hope that it would never come to that though. He hoped deep down that Natasha would never get tired of him. However, judging by her peculiar silence he was rather confident he was on the right track to keeping her interest alive.

He was also pretty sure that was the closest reaction to utterly speechlessness he was ever going to get from her. He would bet good money she's never been rendered speechless in her entire life.

Now to deal with the _mission piggyback riders_.

"Widow's moving in for infiltration - if you lazy asses wanted to know," he deadpanned into the com link. He heard a series of crashes and a painful groan and nearly rolled his eyes.

His superiors had been taking an impromptu _nap_. Basically they missed everything. He would never let them live this one down.

"Waky, waky little senior agents- wouldn't want to miss the show of the Black Widow kicking HYDRA ass would you?" Clint said smugly. He heard two indignant huffs and nearly snickered like a naughty little boy.

"Radio silence for 11 hours and you expect us to be on high alert before you're even in the building? Damn, give us a minute Barton," Hill's gruff voice muttered into the com link as he listened to them shuffles some papers and move things around.

He heard Coulson mumble something along the lines of _speak for yourself -you crashed like a tree Hill_. Followed by a prompt_ shut the hell up Coulson.  
_  
Clint didn't know if he should be amused or bemused. Sometimes he wondered who the senior agents really were.

"When was the last time you slept Hill?" Clint asked slowly. He practically _felt_ her eyes harden.

"Don't lecture _me_ about sleeping patterns Barton," Hill said warningly. Clint whistled lowly. Still touchy even after all these years. Insomnia was a well-guarded yet open secret amongst veteran SHIELD agents.

"Apparently not any time in the last month eh? Well I slept fine last night," he said causally. Best night of sleep he ever had. It had nothing to do with the fact that he spent it wrapped around his favorite Russian assassin with his face buried in her soap smelling soft fire colored hair.

_Nothing at all..._

"Well good for you," agent Hill muttered crankily. Clint snickered. Someone needed their own cold Russian night pillow.

Or maybe that was something that only worked for him.

.

.  
.

.

.

.

.

Natasha ignored the back and forth chitchat happening in her ear as she scaled down one mountain and up the other. The problem with the second one was that it was much harder going up, then down - especially in the dark. When she reached a point where there was no available stone to grip for another 10 feet above her she had to reluctantly stop and assess the damn situation.

She had a problem. Damn she hated problems.

_WOOSH._

Natasha tensed as something stabbed the rocky mountain cliff somewhere right above her head.

"Need a hand?" an annoying familiar voice asked in her ear. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"I don't really trust your arrows," she said suspiciously staring at the slim metallic rod sticking out of the rock a foot above her head. What if the flimsy thing broke and she fell to her death?

Clint practically read her mind.

"They're stable - don't worry I've done this before. Besides, they're not the poisonous ones - you can touch it," he said in amusement. Natasha made a face.

"Correction: I don't trust _you_," she grumbled. Quiet laughter rang in her ears. Natasha frowned.

"Liar - you'll use them," he said confidently. He could practically _see_ her deep scowl.

"Go drown in a puddle of hawk piss," she spat. Clint rolled his eyes - lovely imagery. She should be a poet.

"After you my fiery spider - after you. Now climb my arrows and kick some HYDRA ass so that we can locate Fury and I can stop waiting out here like a sitting duck," he said calmly as he drew his bowstring back and aimed for a few feet above her position.

_WOOSH._

_WOOSH. _

_WOOSH. _

She stared at the little stepping path of arrows lined up above her and sighed. She can't _believe_ she was going to listen to him. If he was anyone else she would have ditched the ridiculous arrow offer on the spot and found another way up. But he was her partner and she was sure he would start bitching about trust issues again if she turned him down. Natasha paused. _Why the hell did she care about what he thought about their trust status anyway?_

She promptly decided there are questions she didn't want to know the answer to.

Natasha clenched her jaw before she reluctantly grabbed onto the first arrow and pulled herself up. She waited for 10 seconds as she balanced on the second arrow and tried to determine if she going to die a tragic death today or not.

"Scared Tasha?" he murmured in her ear. Natasha eyes hardened.

"No. And you're right - they are stable," she said reluctantly as she continued climbing. She paused as another round of arrows flew over her head.

_WOOSH. _

_WOOSH._

_WOOSH. _

This was getting _ridiculous_.

"Isn't trust _fun_?" Clint asked cheerfully. Natasha's narrowed her eyes.

"_Shut up_ before I throw your arrows back at you and stab you in the chest," she muttered darkly. Clint's eyes literally lit up like a light bulb when she mentioned using his favorite weapon. That type of glee should be _illegal_ on an assassin's face.

"Like a cupid arrow to my heart?" he asked in the lovey-dovey voice that made her want to stab him several times – before _and_ after death. Natasha's eye twitched.

"Eat dog _shit_ Barton," she growled. Clint grinned.

"Only if you ate it with me Romanoff," he said cheekily. Natasha huffed and promptly refused to speak with him anyone - _he was unbelievable!_ When she got to the last arrow she tugged it out of the rock and furrowed her brow.

"Do you want these back?" she asked staring at the arrow in her hand and waving it for him to see the tip. Clint watched the flicker of moonlight bounce off the metal portion of his arrow tip and shrugged even if she couldn't see him.

"Preferably yes - I can live without them though," he said watching the tactical thoughts flash across her eyes as she considered what would be most likely and most possible.

"It's a bit too much work - you'll have to go without," she muttered apologetically turning back towards the rock and stabbed the arrow back into place. Clint shrugged.

"Lost arrows are the last thing I would cry about Tasha," he said as he watched her continue her climb as his eyes followed her quick fluid movements. There were other things that were more important than ammunition. Very, _very_ important things. He listened to her steady breathing for a few minutes until he finally got enough courage to ask her something.

"If I ask really nicely and I don't pester you about it anymore then my natural presence already does - will you tell me what happened between you and Barnes last night before we left New York?" Clint asked carefully. Natasha tensed ever so slightly for a nanosecond before she continued climbing like nothing happened – but Clint was sharp enough to catch the micro change in her posture.

"Are you going to be a jealous macho pigheaded man?" she asked carefully trying to cover up her slip. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"Gosh you're so flattering with your words Romanoff," he said sarcastically.

"Why are you calling me Romanoff?" she asked suspiciously. Clint raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you call me Barton?" he shot back calmly. Natasha stiffened.

"Ask Coulson if we have clearance for brute force," she said swiftly changing the topic. Clint frowned, but he let it go. He would bother her later when she wasn't working and potentially fall to her death if he distracted her too much.

"Feeling particularly homicidal today?" he asked dryly. Natasha didn't even spare him an insult.

"Just _do_ it," she said tightly. Clint sighed – she was no fun sometimes. He tapped their com link again and heard the line go through.

"Coulson these guys killed over 50 SHIELD agents in Bucharest and are planning to take down our entire organization – do we hit to stall or completely neutralize?" Clint asked carefully. Usually he would make that call but considering they had higher authority riding this mission…

"Your mission. Your call. The guards really don't matter – the higher ups are the important people we want to take in alive," Coulson said steadily. Clint sighed. That gave him absolutely _nothing_. Apparently they were just here to watch and make sure they did their job right.

As Natasha would say - _Lazy bastards. _

"Romanoff?" he asked warily. She was the one who was going to do the hits.

"_I_ say you all just shut up and let me kill them," she said flatly. Clint blinked.

"Damn you _do_ have some Natalia in you," he said in awe as he watched her near the lookout post with a deadly gracefulness that could only be seen in one of the most lethal spiders in the world.

"Natalia is not a completely different person…," Natasha muttered under her breath as she stopped in front of a 2 meter gap between her and the final stretch of the cliff separating her from their entry point. Clint practically read her mind before the thought even registered in her face.

"Romanoff…," he said warningly. Natasha's hand twitched. Clint narrowed his eyes. She better not do it – or he would kill her.

"It'll take too long to climb down and back up the other side," Natasha explained as she bounced on the heels of her combat boots and clenched her hands into fists as she stared evenly at the 2 meter jump across the gap she had to make. She tried to eye how much force she would need to make the jump and how little would cause her to miss – and probably die. Clint's continuous chatter wasn't helping.

"Try a different route anyway. It's dark Romanoff. _Don't_ risk it," he said stiffly. Natasha barely heard his annoying warnings in the back of her heard. She was busy analyzing. He was like an annoying bee buzzing in her ear. Her eyes locked onto a specific part of the ledge that didn't look like it would scrape her palms too much and she made up her mind even as she heard an angry growl of _Natasha!_ in her ear.

"Too late," she said simply before she promptly launched herself across the gap and hoped she wouldn't miss because then he would probably commit suicide and follow her to hell just spend the rest of eternity beating the shit out of her and shouting_ I told you so's_ in her ear for _forever and ever. _

Damn. That was _not_ a pleasant after life scenario. That would be true torture.

"_Are you nuts_?" Clint shouted into the communicator as he watched her nearly lose her grip on the ledge _3 freaking times._ Natasha gritted her teeth as she tried to ignore the cuts made on contact with the sharp jagged rock. She winced from the burn.

So maybe she didn't pick the exact right spot to grab...she sure wasn't going to tell _him_ that.

"No. You're just a pain in my ass overbearing man who is not letting me do my job," Natasha hissed as she tried to plant her foot against the wall and drag herself up. She listened to him huff in her ear and felt his frustration directed at her wash over her through the com link.

"And you're a pain in my ass adrenaline junkie who doesn't listen to anything her partner says! There was a 45% chance of you _missing_!" he exclaimed angrily. Natasha's eyes flashed.

"I can do distance calculations _fine_ Barton," she grounded out as she finally managed to haul herself up onto the ledge. She bit back a sigh of relief as she freed her bleeding scarped hands from their painful punishment of holding up her weight - another Barton rant was the last thing she wanted. The less he knew the less headaches she would get because of him. She glanced down and finally caught sight of the lookout post. _Thank god she finally made it._

Hallelujah she was saved - now if only he would just _shut up_.

"You take risks you don't _need to," _Clint said heatedly.

"And you worry too much," she said in a cold hard voice. Clint tensed.

"I'm entitled to worry," he said stiffly. Natasha scowled.

"Well _unentitle_ yourself because I call the shots in my end of the job. Go eat a hamburger or something while I take up these losers in less than 3 minutes," she said irritably.

"I hate hamburgers," he muttered but reluctantly backed down. She managed the jump - he couldn't fault her when she perfectly made the stupid reckless jump.

"What kind of American _are_ you?" Natasha asked shaking her head.

"The type that knows the shit they call meat ain't real," he said dryly.

"Well at least you have enough brain cells to figure that out," Natasha grumbled as she walked across the narrow ledge and got as close to the lookout post as she could without being seen. She paused as a piece of the ledge crumpled under her feet and fell 500 feet towards the ground. That would not be a nice fall.

"Careful Widow - wouldn't want me to have to swoop in and save you would you?" Clint said steadily. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Don't get too cocky Hawk, I've saved your ass plenty of times," she muttered warningly. Clint grinned with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"None as dramatically as I did last week," he said with a half shrug. Natasha huffed.

"Knocking me unconscious before Natalia killed you and then dragging us out of a burning underground trafficking base is not _that_ dramatic," she muttered. Clint stared at his rifle blankly.

_Cricket. Cricket. Cricket. _

"Keep telling yourself that little miss spider bites," Clint said dryly. He watched her tense as she finally got directly above the lookout box.

"Call me that again and I am going to fry Barton Jr.," she growled. Clint chuckled darkly.

"You _bluff_ Widow. You love Barton Jr. so much you can't bear to even part with him. Oh Barton Jr. - _where art thou junior_?" Clint said dramatically intent on thoroughly pissing her off. Natasha whipped her head around and _clearly_ flipped him off with the classic middle finger. It was utterly hilarious because _he_ was the one who taught her what that gesture meant during the first few rough weeks of their partnership.

He succeeded in pissing her off– as usual.

"I hope you faint like a little girl and lose your balance and fall off that ledger and become a bloody Hawk pancake as you hit the ground with a satisfyingly painful _crunch_," Natasha spat across the com link. Clint snorted in amusement– sometimes he wonders where her weird threats come from.

"Do you two always call each other by code names during missions?" Coulson asked warily in their ears. They both paused in their usual mission spat.

Oh shit they left the com link open.

"_None of your damn business_," Clint and Natasha said at the same time. Coulson rolled his eyes.

"They have the most unorthodox partnership I have ever _seen_," Hill muttered beside him. Coulson chuckled.

"But they make it work so who can really complain?" he asked warily. Hill shot him a sharp look and promptly muted the mike.

"I'm going to be more than complaining if they mess this up. I'll be reprimanding _you_ because you're the one who recommended them despite the fact that they are still a new team. This is a serious mission Coulson. If the director dies on our watch you understand what the council is going to do to us right? _All_ of us?" Hill said sharply. Coulson took a slow breath.

"You saw their stats Hill...," Coulson said steadily. Hill tensed and promptly looked away.

"How do they manage a perfect mission success rate again?" she muttered as she rubbed her forehead. How on earth do they come back alive after their missions if she was to _actually_ believe their mission reports? They should have died 100 times over already.

"Why don't you watch and find out?" Coulson said quietly. Hill wordlessly flipped the mute switch off and looked away from him. She planned to do exactly that.

"I'm in position," Natasha said under her breath as she hovered 10 feet above the lookout post.

"I got a visual," Clint muttered back as he readjusted his scope and kept sight of all the most dangerous looking men.

"How many?" she asked steadily as she hid in the shadows of the mountain.

"Same number as before. 6 targets in the box. 3 stationed in the front with pathetic surveillance equipment if I do say so myself and 3 lounging in the back. They obviously take turns doing the actually perimeter surveillance," he informed her evenly.

"Well they're obviously not very good," she muttered obviously referring to how the two of them practically caused an international _crisis_ as they parading all over the mountain side and didn't attract any attention whatsoever.

Noobs.

"Are you going to escort them to the gates of hell?" Clint asked dryly. Natasha snorted silently.

"Barton, they won't even know they're dead until the life gets knocked out of them," Natasha whispered tying her red hair tighter at the back of her head and preparing to give a few HYDRA guards the surprise of their life.

Clint was kind of jealous – they get to see his partner in action up close and personal while he was parked way out here.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: I know I cut the scene right before her epic fight scene (which I already wrote – and she is epic) but this chapter is already 6,000…a 9,000 word chapter would be crazy. Anyway next chapter is all Natasha action as she neutralizes the guards and starts scouting the base and our mission real starts getting crazy. Like I said in the beginning – this was the last Clintasha chapter for a while. Hope you savored that kiss…haha. No romance for a while. **

**So much fighting….and we'll see Fury soon too. ****Ha ha…badass Fury. Hehe. **

**A/N 2: Now Shadows must skip off to study otherwise she'll piss her parents off again and cause another international internet scandal like last week when she nearly got her account deleted in the name of love (I told my mom love was for children…it didn't end well…for me) /O.O\.**

**NOTICE: If you follow/Favourite any of my stories…fanfiction went and deleted them all…so if you want to get updates from Rumour has it, Lost in translation, 100 days of tony stark madness….or those other stories I pretend are not mine right now because I don't have the time to write…you should go click on the follow button again. Anyway thanks for reading! **

**(I never gave up on I dare you btw :P my parents are crazy…but they love me? Sigh. Es la vida.)**


	94. Chapter 94

**I dare you **

**A/N: Honestly…just ignore this and read the fight scene. LOL. I kind of feel bad for these bastards…but then again they work for HYDRA…**

**Epic start to the infiltration…and rapid deterioration on the spot. **

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**Chapter 94 **

6 bored out of their minds guards sat slumped in their seats as they did the most boring job on base – watching nothing…for a very long time.

"How much longer is our shift Ralf?" a grumpy dark haired guard grumbled from the corner as he stared at the blackness that surrounded the lookout post. Ralf gave him the death stare.

"It started 20 minutes ago Ivan. Don't start whining until at least the 3 hour mark," Rafl shot back nastily. Ivan scowled.

"We're going to die of boredom," he muttered irritably.

_Thump._

Ivan tensed as he felt a looming presence behind him.

"Actually – you get to die with prejudice today," a dark feminine voice rang in his ears. Ivan's eyes widen as he spun around and saw nothing…except his dead friend with a red tinted knife sticking out of his chest.

Well that was definitely not nothing.

"_Oh shit – Remy alert security breach_!" Ivan shouted as he backed away from his dead colleague and knocked right into a warm feminine body that radiated danger. He instantly ducked as another knife flew over his head barely missed his head by a hair's breath. He heard a dark chuckle that gave him _Goosebumps_.

"You're fast for a low ranking guard," a voice said with dark amusement lacing her words. He spun around but he _still_ found no one there.

"What the hell?" Ivan muttered. He froze in fear as pale white fingers stoked his cheek from behind him.

"But I'm faster," a beautiful voice with a hint of a Russian accent whispered in his ear before she pitilessly snapped his neck and watched him drop to the floor like a puppet without strings. She instantly dropped to the floor as a rain of bullets flew over her head. The rest of the party managed to pick their mouths off the floor and figured out how to use their toys.

"Damn you're _scary_," Clint muttered in her ear. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"You just noticed that now? It's not my fault you're half blind – who did you think I was? A flower power girl something?" she asked irritably. What the hell did he see when he looked at her anyway?

All she saw was a sea of red.

She rolled out of the line of fire before she whipped out her own gun and shot the two men firing at her from the corner both dead center in the chest. Clint scoffed in her ear.

"Don't ever say flower power – that is nasty stuff. And I never said I didn't like scary," he mumbled. Natasha ignored him as she caught sight of suspicious movements in the corner of her eye.

She whipped her favorite knife across the small lookout box room and stabbed the last guard's hand straight through his palm and pinned it to the wall before he could hit the panic button. She heard him scream in pain but simply spun another knife in her hand as she walked over towards him. She was very consciously aware of another pair of sharp blue eyes watching her back as she did her job.

"Uh, uh handsome – I wouldn't do that if I were you," she whispered approaching the young blond guard who was clenching his jaw in pain and shooting her vicious looks. Natasha nearly laughed at him – his pain tolerance was pathetic. The stubborn tough man look on his face was an act – she could practically smell the fear on his skin.

"You're never going get past security you redheaded _bitch_," he growled before he spat in her face.

Natasha's eyes darkened in an unnervingly familiar way. He really shouldn't have spat at her if he wanted the least painful death. Now she was debating on letting him bleed it out.

"_Natasha_…," Clint said carefully in her ear as he watched red-tinted memories flash across her face. Her eyes cleared as she heard his voice and it calmed her darker thoughts.

"I'm fine," she said stiffly brushing his concern off. She gave the bleeding guard pined to the wall a biting glare as she sheathed her knife and pulled out her gun instead. She would be less tempted to mutilate him with a gun.

Not that she couldn't do it.

"Do you even know who you work for? Who you put your life on the line for? Who you are about to die for?" she asked digging her gun into the guard's chest. The blond stared at her with hatred – as if she cared. The whole world probably hated the type of person she was.

"A job is a job – isn't that why you are here?" he asked coldly. Natasha leveled him with a sharp stare.

"You're right. A job is a job – but what if it wasn't? When does torture, child trafficking and human suffering stop being a job?" she asked as she clenched her hand around the trigger on her gun. Clint lowered his rifle and wondered what on earth she was doing. Natasha never talks to her targets unless she needed information or she hasn't gotten them alone yet. The guard laughed darkly.

"People can be coerced into doing all sort of depraved and twisted shit. Everyone has a price they'd give up their humanity for – even whores like you," he spat at her. Natasha didn't even blink.

_BANG_!

The guard dropped to the ground with a bullet hole straight through his chest. Natasha lowered her gun and calmly stared at her work – she hasn't shot someone point blank in a while. SHIELD work wasn't exactly straight up assassinations – half the time they had her and Barton running after things that weren't even people.

"Sorry, I don't work for money," Natasha said blankly. She never did. All her life she did assassinations because she thought it was the only thing she knew how to do.

She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and tensed.

"Natasha I only see 5 bodies…," Clint said sharply right before she got knocked to the ground as a large body fell from the ceiling.

"_Oh shit_ where the hell did he come from?" Clint shouted across the com link as he lost sight of her. Shit. Shit. Shit. _He couldn't see where she fell damn it._

"From the ceiling where the _hell_ do you think?" Natasha shouted back as she rolled across the floor with a big, ugly, hairy _mammoth_ trying to smash her face in. Natasha got her breath knocked out of her for a second from the sheer weight of the large man who had her pinned to the floor.

"_Ja ću__te ubiti__kučka,"_ he growled as he pulled his fist back and aimed to break her jaw. Natasha tensed and ducked just in time to hear the wood splinter where her head had just been.

"Oh great _Bosnian_! One of the few languages I actually _don't_ speak," Natasha said irritably as she kneed the insanely large guard in the gut and threw him off of her with the momentum of his own punch. He crashed into the control panel and she quickly flipped herself back onto her feet – just in time to avoid his fast right hook that nearly bashed her head right in. He really seemed like he wanted to give her a permanent concussion. She gracefully skirted to the side to causing her pony tail and whipped herself in the face as she skillfully avoided his sucker punch. Natasha angrily gritted her teeth – he was a better fighter then she was expecting. She continued to dance across the room littered with dead HYDRA guards as she sharply avoided the chair the giant threw at her as she tried to find his weak spot.

"Come on where the hell is it?" she growled under her breath as she dived towards the other side of the room as she tried to speed up her take done plan.

"ti brzi, ali ne dovoljno brzo," the Bosnian speaking guard said in a threatening voice as he held his fists up and made a gesture for her to come at him. Natasha narrowed her eyes and held back – she wasn't stupid enough to try and punch a 400 pound man when he was ready for it.

"Now I understand how you feel when you can't understand certain languages," she muttered under her breath. Clint snorted.

"Feel the pain of being an outsider. But _damn -_ big, buff and bulky has skills Nat," he said in awe as he watched the tense stare down continue. He wished he had some popcorn to go along with the perfect show. He had a perfect lock on the big guy's chest – but he'd rather watched his partner take him out. Natasha's eyes darkened as she stared her opponent down.

"_Don't_ call me Nat, Barton," Natasha said darkly. Clint's smile faded so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash.

"Right. Sorry," he muttered. She was _definitely_ not Nat. When the large guard finally got tired of waiting he rushed at her Natasha promptly dropped to the floor and slid underneath him between his legs. She spun around and used his back as a leverage to jump up and wrap her killer thighs around his neck and brought his entire body crashing to the ground. She heard his head hit the floor with a sharp satisfying _bang_. She sighed in relief as she moved to pull away from the body. She tensed as she felt a large sweaty hand warp around her arm like a snake like grip.

_Shit_ he had a thicker skull then she thought. The next thing she knew she was being slammed into the wall 5 feet above the floor with a red faced bleeding Bosnian that had his meaty hands wrapped around her neck.

_And then he squeezed._

Natasha rapidly searched for the best possible way that she could disarm the mammoth before he crushed her trachea into pieces.

_Leverage. Leverage. Leverage. She needed leverage god damn it. _

She started to lose her vision before she locked onto the weakened looking joint in his left shoulder. _Finally_. If she hit that he would be down for the count. However, before she could stab one of her many knives into the guard's shoulders and make good on her assessment someone else beat her to it.

_WHOOSH. WHOOSH. _

_BANG!_

The next thing she knew there were two arrows sticking out of both her enemy's shoulder blades and a bullet hole clear through the center of his forehead. The mammoth's death grip on her throat instantly slackened as he slowly fell back onto the floor with a loud resounding _boom_. Natasha gasped in much needed air as she dropped back down to her feet and heavily leaned against the wall.

She could finally _breathe_.

"Thanks," she muttered as she coughed and slid to the floor in exhaustion. Being choked half to death really took the fun out of ambushing a lookout post. Clint lowered his rifle but gripped his bow tight enough to turn his knuckles ghostly white. It was an art to be able to use both at once. He took several deep breathes as he watched her recover her own breath.

"No problem. Are you okay? Any lasting injuries?" he asked evenly as he fell back into profession agent mode. Natasha tried to chuckle but it turned into a wince due to the painful bruises around her neck that would be gone within half an hour. She ignored his concern and made her own half-ass comment.

"None of them shot at me – was choking to death not on your list of thing you weren't going to allow to happen to me?" she asked dryly poking fun at his rather heroic promises from 10 minutes ago. She listened to him inhale a sharp breath.

"Don't joke about stuff like that Tasha," he said quietly. Next time he wasn't going to let her dance around their targets. If she didn't take them out in less than 10 seconds he would fire.

"Fine. I'm going in now," Natasha said taking a deep breath and pushing herself to her knees and couching over one of dead bodies littered around her. Clint furrowed his brow in confusion.

"What are you _doing_…?" Clint asked peering through his scope and watching her tug off the jacket of one of the smaller guards. Natasha looked over the edge and stared straight at him. He was a bit unnerved by how she knew exactly where he was even from this distance – and in the dark not less.

"It's called infiltration in disguise with a reason Barton," she said dryly. Clint narrowed his eyes. She was going to try and walk through there in plain sight?

"You can move through a base without being seen Natasha," he said carefully. Natasha shook her head.

"Hiding in plain sight is easier, faster and more effective," she shot back as she took off her own jacket and was left in her tight back undershirt. She heard a sharp intake of breath in her ear and smirked.

"Like what you see Barton?" Natasha asked daringly. She paused as she heard an unexpected sound of paper crashing to the floor. That was not on his end.

"There are _other_ people on this line agent Romanoff," agent Hill's voice said warningly. Natasha promptly slid her arms into the slightly larger than her size jacket and quickly zipped it closed. She tucked her long redhead into a cap she nicked from another guard on the ground and made a bored face. They were butting in on _her_ mission – not the other way around.

"Maybe I just don't _give_ a shit," she deadpanned. Clint sighed and nearly smacked his palm against his face. Or maybe she's a good enough agent to know who is a threat to them and who is not. If anyone was going to sell them out it wasn't going to be these two agents. Coulson was a given – he was forced to carry their dirty secret since day 1. Hill...Hill was scary...but she is not _that_ scary. Especially not when she grumbled obscenities under her breath and rubbed her forehead like she didn't know what to make of these two field agents. Coulson swiftly took over as usual before poor agent Hill got a Russian induced headache.

"Just keep moving Romanoff. Barton keep watch of her exit – it's the only way in and out without detection. And Romanoff when you find the holding cells we'll send Barton in and Hill will take over in covering your escape exit," he said carefully. Natasha rolled her eyes – as if things always worked as planned.

That was the first thing she learned after working with agent Barton over the last 9 months.

Everything always goes to shit with him around. He was a shit _magnet_. None of her past assignment went as badly as the missions with him seem to always go.

"Fantastic - things are going so well so far - don't you think Barton?" Natasha asked cheerily as she shoved open the back door of the lookout post and made her way down the empty halls of the HYDRA base. The walls were dark and the lights dim as usual. She didn't cross any other HYDRA agents for the first few hallways.

Everyone flinched at her cutesy tone. Natasha was not a cheery person. It was kind of creepy when she did that.

"_I'm_ not the reason all our missions go to shit," Clint muttered irritably. Natasha's face went stony.

"Are you really trying to say _I'm _a bad luck charm on this team?" she asked dangerously. Clint paused.

"Well if the shoe fits...," he said airily. Natasha scowled.

"Try saying that to my face you coward and watch what I do to you," she hissed under her breath.

"Is that a promise?" Clint asked suggestively.

_Silence_. Clint instantly tensed.

"Natasha, what's wrong?" he asked carefully. He could hear her steady breathing and nothing else.

That was actually fairly unnerving.

"It's just very quiet in here - it doesn't sound like a busy illegal base at all," she said under her breath. She paused as she felt an unknown presence behind her but when she turned around to scan the dark hall lit by a flickering row of lights – it was empty.

Seemingly empty spaces had a way of being very misleading. Since no one but her could feel the uneasy atmosphere the conversation continued without pause.

"Maybe you're on a less busy floor. Try finding a map and work your way down to level 5," Clint suggested. Hill suddenly got an idea and leaned forward in her seat on the jet.

"Actually better idea - do you still have the USB I gave you agent Romanoff?" Hill chimed into the conversation. Clint froze while Natasha pinched the bridge of her nose.

"What USB?" he immediately asked suspiciously. Natasha ignored him and answered Hill's question with her own question.

"You want me to use it before we find the Director? What if they have better systems then we thought? What if it backfires?" she asked seriously. Clint's jaw twitched – he hated being ignored.

"Okay, who has been having secret conversations behind my back?" Clint demanded to know. Hill sighed and rubbed her forehead. He was unrelentingly.

"Calm your ruffled feathers Barton- it's just a hacking device," she said curtly. Clint scowled. _Just a hacking device she says. _

"_Coulson_. They're being secretively spies without us," Clint complained petulantly. Coulson shook his head and banged his forehead against the control panel in jet in front of him.

Secretive SHIELD women drove SHIELD men up the hypothetical wall. _Ugh_.

"Just get over it Barton - I didn't know they had a conversation either," he said tiredly. Clint huffed but remained silent as the conversation between Russian assassin and SHIELD second in command continued.

"If you can get it plugged into a control panel port it would help me help you," Hill said ignoring the side male bruised ego conversation. Natasha's eyes hardened.

"I'm not a blind soldier agent Hill and neither am I a novice in infiltration. I can find the Director fine - what are you looking for?" Natasha asked steadily. Hill grimaced.

Sharp agents were a thorn in her side.

"Information. I want to know what they know and what they are doing with a massive operation like this. I want to get as much Intel from their systems that the director might miss by verbally getting whatever information he can through their words," she said reluctantly. Natasha nodded partially satisfied.

"Was that so difficult to say?" she asked frankly. Hill scowled.

"It's also useful to know their security system - wouldn't that help you?" Hill shot back. Natasha shrugged.

"If all else fails I'll just burn a path to the cells and Barton can come help drag them out," she said confidently. Clint was still feeling wounded and didn't take her side.

"Oh macho Widow can't carry a 200 pound man?" he muttered. Natasha glanced at all the doors she passed and wondered how far these tunnel-like halls go into the mountain.

"If I did all the backbreaking labour work what would be the point of having a soldier as backup?" she asked simply. Clint blinked.

"Are you just using me for my awesome muscles?" he asked flatly. Natasha paused.

"What muscles?" she asked innocently. Clint's eye twitched.

"Can it you two," Hill said swiftly ending their typical banter which was getting on her nerves. _God did they never stop?_

"I have this feeling the bulk of the enemy is not on base right now," Coulson said warily as he peeked over Hill's shoulder as he stared at her computer screen.

"Why?" Clint asked carefully scanning the mountain range for any suspicious movements. Hill pulled up a screen beside him in the jet and the two long term SHIELD agents both stiffened.

"Someone just blew up the Romanian military research base in Bucharest," Coulson said carefully. Clint stiffened on his perch while Natasha narrowed her eyes but silently kept moving deeper into the base - she needed to somehow get access to a map and the other floors of this base.

"How the hell did they get close enough and even fool military security to manage _that_?" Clint asked suspiciously.

"How did they manage to infiltrate SHIELD to one of the highest ranking officers?" Coulson asked tiredly instead of giving a proper answer. Natasha stopped in front of door at the end of the hall that was conveniently labeled as _security_ in Romanian. Well this was a good place to start.

"I found security – why don't we find out?" Natasha under her breath as she pulled her cap tighter over her face and squared her shoulders.

"Tell her to wait…," Hill said to Coulson as she flew through several firewalls and pulled up something she wanted their only Russian operative's opinion on.

"Before you go in there guns blazing…does Истинная преданность Родине никогда не умирает _(True loyalty to the motherland never dies_) mean anything to you Romanoff?" Coulson asked carefully staring at the satellite image of Russian words written in red ink on a wall of the fallen Romanian military base Hill have pulled up. Natasha's hand tightened around her gun – enough that she nearly broke the metal weapon in half.

"I don't think we should have this conversation right now…," Natasha said with steel in her voice. That immediately had her partner on high alert.

"…Is it Red Room?" Clint asked quietly. Natasha's eyes darkened.

"_No_," she said bracing her hand against the wall and taking several deep breaths. 3 long time SHIELD agents frowned in unison.

"Then who is it?" Coulson asked steadily. Natasha closed her eyes and clenched her hands into fists.

"HYDRA is playing with someone a lot worst then the Red Room. The Red Room is just a black op assassin program operating under an umbrella organization," Natasha said darkly. Agent Hill was about to asked her to elaborate when something stopped her.

All four agents tensed as they heard the distinctly sound of alarm sirens going off on the Russian's end of the com link. Natasha held her gun tighter in her hand as she sharply glanced up at the red lights flooding the empty hall.

Well there goes the element of surprise.

"Tasha did you set off an alarm?" Clint asked tensely. Natasha glanced around but found no one rushing at her – in fact she was still scarily alone on this floor.

"_No_…," Natasha said slowly trying to get a feel of what the hell was going on.

This was _so_ not like the base in Colombia.

She tensed as the P.A. System of the base suddenly boomed in her ears.

'_Research lab on level 8 has been compromised. Everyone must follow protocol evacuation 5-3-niner. Anyone who has been infected is to be left behind. I repeat anyone caught in the contamination cross-fire is to be left behind. This is the last message you will be receiving from command'. _Natasha stared at the P.A. System box as she rapidly replayed the fast Romanian base wide message in her head.

"What did they say? I don't speak Romanian," Clint asked tensely across com link. Damn he needed to learn more languages.

"Did they say _infected_?" Hill asked sharply. That completely caught Clint off guard.

"Infected with _what_?" he asked in alarm. Natasha was half tempted to pull the annoying communicator out of her ear and smash in against the wall – she couldn't hear her _own_ thoughts damn it.

"_Everyone shut up!_ Something set off the alarms on their research level….but I'm not on the research floor…," Natasha said sharply as she heard the distinctly echoing sound of men shouting in Romanian and doors slamming shut and locks clicking into place from several different floors above and below her. Clint took several deep breaths and told himself to get a grip.

"What level are you on Natasha? Director's on level 5….," Clint said tightly trying to keep a lid on his uneasiness. Hell he was well passed uneasy. He was teetering on utterly terrified – for her.

"No idea…but I don't think we want to meet what's on the floor beneath me Barton…," Natasha said carefully trying to make out the sound coming from the ground.

Every single person tapped into the 4-way com link tensed as they heard an ear splitting inhuman _ROAR_ shake the hall Natasha was stranded in and caused her to brace herself against the wall as all the ceiling lights in the hall instantly went out.

No one could mistake that sound for anything besides what it was. She was in a shit load of trouble.

That was also the last straw for Clint.

"That is _it_ - I'm coming in," Clint said immediately shooting to his feet and grabbing his bow.

"_No_ – don't come yet!" Natasha said sharply. Clint tensed – he wasn't going to listen to her stubbornness right now.

"_Are you freaking kidding me_ _Natasha_?" Clint asked angrily.

"Calm the hell down – whatever made that sound is not on my floor," Natasha said carefully feeling her way back towards the security room and leaned her ear against the door as she tried to tune out her partner's angry breathing. Clint's eyes hardened.

"I don't _care_ – something fucked up is there. Hill get your ass up here and cover our exit _now_," Clint said dangerously gripping her bow tight enough to nearly break it in half. If Hill was one thing she was all action.

"I wonder who the highest ranking officer posted on this mission is?" Hill muttered as she grabbed her own mission pack and caught the com link Coulson threw at her before she threw the pack over her shoulders and ran through the forest.

"Should I call back up?" Coulson asked Hill through their newly added communicator. Hill shook her head as she sprinted through the night.

"For standby? Yes. For response team? No. It is really not going to help until we figure out what the hell is going on in there. I'm not sending in any more agents to die Coulson. We are _it_," Hill said with finality as she jumped over a fallen tree. Clint's worried thoughts came to a screeching halt.

"So we're doing a _suicide mission?"_ he shouted in alarm. Hill narrowed her eyes.

"No. No one said this is a suicide mission- we didn't even know what we were walking into. That is why Coulson and I are here. This is not a normal mission Barton. We don't have parameters for you," she said rapidly approached the mountain. Clint clenched his jaw in anger.

"Natasha don't you dare move from where you are," he growled lowly. Natasha ignored their_ entire_ back and forth shouting match as she pulled her ear away from the dead silent security room door. She took several steps back, aimed her gun and fired.

_BANG! BANG! BANG! _

"_Natasha_!" Clint said sharply. She ignored him as usual as she promptly shot forward and roughly kicked the broken door open and pointed her gun into the dimly lit room. She smelled the evidence before her eyes adjusted and she saw the state of the security team. Natasha slowly lowered her gun.

"Someone else has been here…," she said slowly. Coulson furrowed his brow.

"How do you know?" he asked quickly cutting Clint off before he could say anything unhelpful because Romanoff clearly wasn't going to follow any orders she didn't give to herself. If she was going to be reckless the least they'd get a better read on the situation.

"They're all dead," Natasha said carefully scanning the brutal scene of security personnel sitting slaughtered into their seats staring at their security camera feeds with unseeing eyes.

"How long have they been dead?" Coulson asked cautiously. Natasha couched down and studied the paleness of one of the dead body slumped against the wall.

"_If she gets hurt I'm going to kill you all…,"_ Clint muttered darkly in the background.

"Not long at all. Maybe 20 minutes…?" Natasha slowly answered Coulson's original question as she tried to ignore how this was the first time someone actually cared about her safety during an op. It was annoying – but deep down she appreciated it. Just not when she was working.

"What's the cause of death?" Coulson pressed. Natasha scanned all over the bodies and her eyes landed on their blooded wrists. She did a double take and nearly sighed. Oh Barton was going to freak.

"Puncture wounds….," she said carefully. They all inhaled a sharp breath.

Clint had finally had enough.

"You know what? Fuck this. We're running this op my way," Clint muttered as he pulled a grappling hook arrow from his quiver and shot is straight across the valley and watched it wrap itself around the railing from the lookout post and promptly swung himself over to the other side.

"Natasha you pain in my ass I'm going to _kill_ you when I find you," he said as he angrily scaled the mountain - hell bent on kicking his reckless partner's ass.

"If you want to kill me you better hurry up and get in here," Natasha muttered as she backed away from the bodies and pulled out the USB Hill gave her.

"I'm going to connect you to their internal control system alright Coulson? None of their cameras are working in here – but maybe you can make it work from your end," she said as she approached the control panel and stuck the small USB jack into one of the computer ports. Coulson's screen instantly lit up with the connection. He smile weakly – at least something was going right.

"I got a link – will need at least 3 minutes to hack the system," he said evenly as he went to work on try to breech the HYDRA firewall. Natasha nodded.

"Go for it – it's not like I'm allowed to go anywhere until hawk-boy catches up…," she said as she noticed a white on black layout design she caught sight of from the corner of her eye. Meanwhile, Hill finally reached the mountain base and looked back and forth between which one she was going to climb.

"You know Barton I'm just going to come up and join you on your quest to murder your partner. Sniping is going to do shit at this point," she said as she started climbing the side that he was already three quarters done climbing. Clint grunted noncommittally.

"Do whatever you want Hill, just please don't fall and force me to come save you…I don't think I can turn back right now," he said warningly. _Not when my partner is being stupid and is going to get herself killed_. "Natasha how far in are you from the lookout entrance?" he asked steadily as he nearly the end of his grapping rope.

"About a 3 minute run down the first hall on your right," she replied distractedly as she scanned the map in front of her. Clint scowled – she knew he was going to run once he got into this damn base.

"92% firewall hacked," Coulson alerted them all carefully.

"I'm on the highest floor – level 7," Natasha replied with her own bit of information as she followed the exit path on the map towards a narrow emergency staircase that…connected all the floors.

"The cells are two floors down…and I don't hear anything anymore," she added cautiously. Clint narrowed his eyes.

He was _never_ letting her go into an unknown enemy territory by herself ever again. Level of cover efficiency be damned.

"If you move your ass I will shoot it," Clint threatened darkly. Natasha didn't really have her heart in it but replied how she normally would anyway.

"Promises. Promises Barton," she muttered as she felt the ground shake slightly beneath her feet. She took a sharp breath.

"Just don't do anything stupid Natasha I'm almost there," Clint said as finally managed to haul himself up onto into the tiny lookout box. He glanced around at the mess she made and shook his head.

"Damn you did a number on these guys Tasha," Clint muttered as he glanced around at the dead guards littered around the floor. Natasha snorted.

"You watched me do it," she said trying to ignore the feeling like they were all missing something.

"Not the same as seeing it up close," Clint muttered as he quickly unhooked himself from his rope and swiftly made his way towards the back door.

"99% percent breeched," Coulson said as he waited to break through their firewall. He watched the green bar reach the end of the screen and waited.

The second the hacked firewall hit 100% on Coulson's screen the entire level 7 went under intense lockdown.

"Oh shit _no_!" Clint shouted as the door leading into the base from the lookout post automatically slammed shut just as all the doors it the hall Natasha was in slammed shut as well. Coulson stared at his laptop screen in shock.

"Their system is booby-trapped. _Damn it_ – it made a reverse virus," Coulson said angrily as he slammed his laptop shut and watched it smoke in front of him. _Dead end._

"Natasha did all the doors lock on the inside too?" Clint asked tensely as he felt around the thick metal door and tried to figure out how he was going to break it down. He paused when static crackle was his only reply.

"_Natasha_?" he repeated as he stared at the sealed door in front of him with an intensity that was going to give him a heart attack one day.

_Static. _

"Can anyone else hear me or her?" Clint asked feeling a sinking feeling start to eat at his mind.

"We can still hear you Barton…," Hill said slowly as she nearly caught up with him. Coulson quietly confirmed as well. Clint clenched his jaw in anger.

"Natasha if you are just being silent cause you are an _asshole_ please cut it out and _say something!_" Clint said barely holding his temper in check and his worry buried deep down with even less control.

_Silence_.

Clint angrily stepped back and emptied an entire round of bullets into the metal door that separated him from his partner who was doing who _knows_ what.

"_Natasha answer your communicator god damn it!" _he shouted angrily over the backfire noise of his bullets.

He didn't even make a dent in the metal surface.

He also didn't get a single sarcastic, biting reply.

"_NATASHA!" _Clint shouted as he slammed his fist against the unbreakable door.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: And….we lost her in the madness. Damn. A Natasha Romanoff trapped all alone in a place like a HYDRA base on red alert with who knows what roaming around inside with her?**

**I wonder if Jeremy Renner or Scarlet Johansson ever did a horror movie…I wonder how much it takes to make Natasha Romanoff **_**actually**_** truly scream for real? (And not a sexy Barton-related in the equation scream). **

**You guys wanted an intense interesting mission – this is not just a rescue (it's never just a simple mission right?)**

**Everything is really fast from the next chapter onward. Where is Tasha and are they going to find Fury or he going to find them first? **

**WAS THAT ENOUGH BADASS RUSSIAN ASSSASIN FOR YOU? :P**

**P.S. Are you scared yet?**


	95. Chapter 95

**I dare you **

**AGE CONFIMRATION NOTE: **

**Natasha: 21 **

**Clint: 24**

**Hill: 31 (Yes she is **_**older**_** than Barton) **

**Coulson: 33 **

**Fury: 50+ (something like that…not really important) **

**A/N: SO YES – Natasha is missing. But I also promised a Barton and Hill backstory….so while Tasha is off fending for herself – Barton is in scary dangerous freak out mode. As expected. **

**Have fun! If you like suspense that is!  
**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 95 **

Clint stared at the sealed door preventing him from going after his partner.

"_Natasha_…," he whispered as he banged on the door one last time in futile before he slid to his knees. He felt a non-threatening presence appear behind him but didn't acknowledge her.

"Don't give up yet Barton – we'll get to her," a calm steady voice said from behind the kneeling archer. Clint's eyes darkened.

"_Fuck_ you Hill," he said dangerously as he slammed his fist against the metal door.

Hill narrowed her eyes.

"Barton I understand how you feel, but you need to think rationally if you want to find-" Hill started to say carefully but he instantly cut her off with a harsh laugh that spoke volumes of how unstable he really was.

"_Rational_? You think being rational is what kept me and my partner alive after all the crap missions we've pulled over the last 9 months? You think the shit standard training SHIELD gives its hundreds of agents is the reason we've managed our perfect mission success rate Hill? You think the best partnerships in this organization start off with unbreakable trust and perfect synchronization? I spent _months_ working to get through to her and get us where we are today. She is my responsibility and right now I'm failing her. If you think you know how I feel, you are more naïve and arrogant then I _thought_," he said harshly. Hill inhaled a sharp breath but kept her own emotions in check – she wasn't going to let an unstable assassin rile her up.

"Barton, I'm not trying to dissect your partnership – I'm trying to say that you need to get a grip of your emotions otherwise you're no help to _anyone_," she said stiffly. She decided not to tell him she _did_ know how he felt because she has been in his place before with Coulson – but she didn't think that would help their situation anyway. He didn't really seem like he was in a listening mood. Clint tensed before he instantly shot to his feet and spun around to face her with flashing ice cold eyes. He was so lost in his anger he was shaking.

"Why the hell did you give her the damn hacker USB in the _first_ place?" he growled inches from her face. He might have even roughly shoved her into a wall if she didn't already have a steady gun aimed at his face to keep him back. Angry emotionally unstable assassins are not something she took lightly in their field. She wasn't still alive after 10 years because she was a novice.

"Don't blame me for something I didn't intend to happen," Hill said warningly. Clint's eyes flashed in rage.

"Intention has nothing to do with this – she is trapped in a god damn enemy base that is under red alert because one of their dangerous illegal science projects just went _berserk_!" Clint bellowed at her. He has never been separated from his partner like this before. He has never lost permanent communication with her on a mission before. He has never felt like such an utter failure as her partner before.

She could be hurt.

She could be dying.

She could be _dead_.

It was driving him crazy.

Agent Hill saw all the twisted terrifying scenarios rapidly flash across his sharp blue eyes that have seen way too many combat missions gone wrong. She knew he was going to rapidly lose himself to his own twisted dark imagination if she didn't do something fast.

"You need to calm him down before he does something he is going to regret Maria…," Coulson warned carefully in her ear. She knew Coulson had disconnected from Barton's com because the shaking archer didn't react to the warning.

So what did she decide was the best course of action to calm a panicked assassin? She promptly dropped her hand holding her gun and firmly _slapped_ the practically hyperventilating archer hard across his face with all the considerable strength she had.

"Calm down and get a hold of yourself Barton - _you are a god damn SHIELD agent!"_ she hissed angrily. Coulson practically _choked_ and nearly fell right out of his seat. She's going to _die_!

"That is _not_ how you calm down an assassin Hill!" Coulson shouted in her ear. She was going to get herself _killed_ by their _own_ team at this rate. Hill must have been onto something though, because Clint didn't do anything except let his head whip to the side even as an angry red hand print blossomed across his face. He took several deep breaths as the dangerous look faded from his eyes.

He wasn't a person who hurt his own teammates even if the irrational side of his brain kept screaming - _it's all her fault_! It was a bad sign when he had to remind himself of that fact. There was a reason he did solo op before he got his one and only partner. Working alone meant less collateral damage and fewer backs to watch. He took a deep breath and promptly locked down his intense worry and fear for his partner somewhere to deal with later. He had to be focused if he wanted to even have a fighting chance of finding her. He finally glanced up and watched Hill take a cautionary step away from him. She stared at him with guarded eyes as he finally managed to look at her without murder in _his_ eyes.

"I'm sorry," he finally breathed out as he ran an unsteady hand through his hair. Hill tightened her grip on her gun but he didn't make any threatening move towards her. He just warily watched her shift into a defensive rigid stance. His eyes saddened. He was such a terrible teammate if he made her feel like he was a danger to her. The saddest part was that a moment ago he really was.

"I'm not going to attack you Maria– I just lost it for a second," he whispered regretfully stepping back and giving her a respectable amount of space. Hill's eyes hardened.

"Forgive me for remaining caution then. We lost audio communication – she didn't just get shot point blank in the chest Barton," she said carefully. Clint clenched his hands into fists as he promptly looked away from her piercing brown eyes. He wanted to see angry _green_ ones. He wanted harsh verbal barbs colored in a slight Russian accent being thrown at him. He wanted a lot of things he shouldn't at the moment.

But what he _needed_ was to _find_ her.

"I know – but tell me you understand that the longer she is in there alone, the higher the chance there is of her dying," Clint said tightly. Hill frowned as she stared at the ground.

"She's managed to stay alive over the last 11 years of her assassin career Barton – I highly doubt she is going to roll over and let death take a piss on her even if she _is_ on her own," Hill said steadily. Clint's eyes darkened.

"She shouldn't have to _be_ on her own," he said fiercely. What good was he as her partner if he didn't have her back in every possible situation? How could he do his job when he was stuck out here? Hill eyed him carefully as she watched a war rage in his eyes.

"Prove to me you're not compromised agent Barton – because right now you are not doing such a great job of convincing me," she said evenly. Clint tensed.

"My partner is in a god damn _warzone_," he said threateningly. Hill narrowed her eyes.

"So ask me nicely and maybe I'll help you get in there and we can go hunt her down together," she said steadily. Clint glared at her – as if he would be standing here wasting his time arguing with her if he had something better on him then bullets and arrows to break down that monster of an impenetrable door.

"Ammunition won't work on the door – how are we supposed to get in?" he asked with frustration clear in his tone. Hill stared at him sadly. He was still so young. She pulled out a metal rod from her utility belt and tossed it into the air.

"You say please and I say _boom_," she said with a wary smile. Clint eyed the explosive as it spun in the air between them before coming back down to rest in her hand.

"Are you serious?" he asked skeptically. Hill raised a single eyebrow.

"Yes – how much do you want to get to her before something _else_ does?" she asked calmly. Clint tensed. He didn't have time for this superiority shit.

"By all means - _please blow the whole damn thing off its hinges_," he grounded out as he gestured wildly towards the metal doorway. Hill sighed at the sarcastic insincerity in his words, but promptly whipped the explosive at the metal door anyway. They both instantly dived under the control table right before a massive explosion of fire and debris took up half the room 5 seconds later.

_BOOM_!

They both coughed as the dust and debris settled. Clint poked his head out from under the table and stared at the fully intact door still standing like the irritating impenetrable pain in his ass it was.

"Well now I waste my rare please on you – the door is still _there_," he grumbled irritably. Hill idly brushed the dirt off her uniform and gave him a bored look.

"You want to look again oh Hawkeye who is currently failing to live up to his name?" she asked frankly as she pointed at the space beside the door. He glanced to the right and stared at the gigantic gaping tank size hole in the wall.

_Oh_.

"You missed the door…," Clint said dryly. Hill scowled while shooting him a nasty look.

"So we have a perfectly good hole in the wall _beside_ the god damn door – _priorities_ Barton!" she exclaimed irritably. Clint's eyes darkened.

"I do have priorities Hill – and my priority is in _there_," he said stiffly rising to his feet and stalking across the room, before he promptly disappeared through the convenient gap in the wall.

"Fucking bipolar assassins," Hill muttered as she followed behind him. Clint narrowed his eyes as he noticed fresh blood stains on the ground – something was dragged across the hall. He quickly broke into a run down the hall Natasha told him her last location was.

"You could at least give me the courtesy of telling me when you are going to start sprinting Barton!" Hill hissed as she ran after him. Clint didn't even spare her a single glance as he ran down the hall and rounded the corner at neck break speed.

"I'm perfectly capable of tracking down my partner on my own – you don't have to be here if you don't want to," he growled as he ran past several doors and tried to read the words printed in _unhelpful_ Romanian. He clenched his jaw in anger. Hill noticed the stain on his face and sighed.

"Are you looking for the door that says security on it?" she asked carefully. Clint paused but then nodded sharply.

"Yes," he muttered. Hill frowned at his curtness but let it go.

"She said 3 minutes of running – and it's definitely not these one," she said carefully. Clint nodded briskly and picked up the pace. She kept reading the signs as they silently ran down the empty hall. They both froze however when the red alert signal suddenly flashed and stopped altogether along with the sound of the ringing sirens. The power instantly went out again and they were bathed in darkness. All they could heard in the silent hall was each other's steady breathing. Hill carefully reached out into the dark until her hand made contact with a hard chest. She paused.

"Please tell me that is you Barton and not a dead body slung on a wall or something," Hill said carefully taking a deep breath and trying to quell the rising dread in her chest. When a hand reached out and grabbed her own hand she beat down the instant reaction to slam her fist into the person's face – the grip was non-threatening.

"If I said _boo I'm a dead guy - _would you scream?" he muttered. Hill sighed in relief and then promptly punched him in the shoulder – hard.

"Don't try and joke at a time like this Barton," she hissed. Clint winced from the punch and rubbed his shoulder. Damn SHIELD women did _not_ hit like little girls.

"Sorry – it's a reflex," he muttered under his breath. Hill furrowed her brow but choose not to comment. It wasn't her place to ask what type of coping mechanisms Barton and his partner came up with to get them through their stress jobs. If humor kept them sane by all means she would let him keep it.

"Coulson can you still hear us?" Hill said carefully as she touched her communicator.

"Yes – it's fading somewhat but I can still make out your voices," Coulson replied steadily. Clint's mouth tightened.

"So either she broke her communicator right when the hacking virus backfired…or she is in a sealed room with no signal," he muttered under his breath as he felt around the hall and dragged Hill along behind him. He really didn't want to lose her and have to track her down as well – one lost agent was enough to have him losing his mind.

"Or the communicator is turned off," Hill added offhandedly. Clint tensed.

"Why would she do that?" he asked sharply. Hill gave him a wary look.

"I don't know – she's _your_ partner Barton. What would she do if we lost contact and the mission was still uncompleted?" she asked carefully. They both paused as they considered what Natasha Romanoff would do in a situation like this – it wasn't a pleasant thought.

"Tell me she's not _that_ crazy Barton…," Hill said carefully. Clint looked away and ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

"I can't," he muttered. Hill stopped walking and forced him to stop as well. She shot his a sharp look.

"She'd continue the mission – _are you serious?"_ Hill asked incredulously. Clint sighed. _If only he was joking now Hill._

"She would," Clint said warily.

"Why? Doesn't she know we'd come looking for her?" Hill asked irritably. Clint resisted the urge to snort – Hill didn't know his partner at all. No one at SHIELD did.

"She knows – but she hates waiting for other people and she hates feeling like she needs to be saved. She'd probably want to go find Fury and then come back to figure out a way to get out," he said with a frustrated sigh. Hill frowned.

"Well – we can hypothesize the insanity that rules the rational side of your partner's brain all day – but I think we need to move," Hill carefully resuming their careful path down the hall.

"She said there was a staircase…," Clint muttered as he followed her lead. Hill paused.

"There let's find a bloody staircase," she muttered back.

"We can't see _shit_," he grumbled as she tugged him along. Hill promptly stopped walking and swung her mission pack off her back. Clint leaned against the wall as she rummaged around in it until she found what she was looking for. She pulled out a small flashlight and fumbled around for the switch. She heard a low whine from behind her and huffed.

"Barton why are you making those annoying sounds?" Hill asked irritably. She felt him shift beside her and paused.

"I'm not making any sounds Hill…," Clint said carefully. They both tensed and Hill instantly slammed the flash light on and whipped the beam of light around to illuminate the hall behind him.

Red eyes flashed into sight 3 feet above his head and she froze in horror.

"_Barton_…," Hill said with barely repressed alarm on her face. Clint tensed.

"What Hill?" he asked sharply.

"I know what made that sound – now duck," she said as she raised her gun in a steady hand. Clint froze as he heard a low growl right next to his ear and all the colour swiftly drained from his face.

"Oh _fuck_!" Clint shouted as he spun around just in time to duck as a large fury snarling beast pounced from the shadows.

_BANG! BANG! BANG! _

Hill instantly watched the beast drop to the floor and frantically shone her flashlight around to catch sight of anything else breathing in the hall with them. She stopped the light when she caught sight of two more foaming wolves standing side by side staring at them with hungry bloodthirsty murder in their eyes.

_Holy shit. _

"Don't stare at them _run_ Hill! _Run damn it!"_ Clint shouted as he roughly grabbed her by the arms and shoved her behind him.

Hill watched the red eyed snarling wolves bare their teeth and knew they were going to tear Barton to _pieces_. She quickly slipped the last explosive she had and whipped it right at the fasting approaching blurs of black and hoped to god they weren't about to die.

_BOOM_!

Clint instantly spun around and knocked them both to the ground. He covered her with his body, as a large fire exploded from the canister Hill had whipped at the foaming red eyed beasts and the large dogs finally backed away from the cornered SHIELD agents.

Hill used the momentary flaming distraction to promptly grab Barton by the scruff of his collar and dragged him around the corner and then they _ran_ _for their damn pathetically short lives._

"And leave you the fuck behind? Do you _know_ what Romanoff would do to me if I left you to _die_?" Hill growled as she yanked him behind her. That batshit insane Russian would hunt her down and torture her for _months_ – of that Hill had no doubt. If Clint Barton died SHIELD was going to have a Russian with a vendetta after them. Clint coughed from the smoke he got in his lungs and winced as she agitated some of his painful bruises one of the wolves gave him as they knocked him into the wall.

"She can't do shit to you if we're _both_ dead!" Clint growled. Hill's eyes darkened.

"Just shut up and run you ungrateful _bastard_!" she hissed as she shoved him down the hall. They heard howls in the distance and hoped to god they could find somewhere to hide – fast. A few seconds later Clint finally managed to get over his pride and give her the thanks she deserved.

"Thank you," he muttered reluctantly. Hill firmly shook her head.

"Don't thank me until we get out of here alive," she said tightly as she glanced at his battered body and immediately noticed the large bleeding gash on his arm. She tensed instantly.

"_Did one of them bite you_?" she asked in alarm. Clint sharply shook his head.

"No –this is from hitting the metal in the wall - how about you?" he asked clinically looking her over to assess all her minor looking injures. What he considered minor and what SHIELD doctors considered minors were two very different things – but at the moment if she could run that was good enough for him. If they lived through this he would do her the courtesy of patching her up _himself_.

They both tensed as they heard a deafening howl and knew they were running out of time.

"The fire will be almost gone soon," Hill said tensely. _They were running out of time._

"We need to find a room to buy us some time," Clint said quickly running past several locked labs with her right on his tail.

"I don't think a locked door is going to keep those things out Barton," Hill warned as she kept pace behind him. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"If you have a better idea, please _do_ let me know Hill!" Clint said sarcastically. Hill narrowed her eyes but held her tongue as she glanced over their shoulder to make sure they weren't any blood red eyes hot on their tail yet. Clint continued to search for a good enough room to haul themselves up in until they could figure out what the hell they were going to do with their current situation.

"Locked, locked, locked – oh for _god's_ sake!" Clint shouted before he grabbed Hill by the back of her uniform to stop her from continuing their futile race down the dark hall while being hunted by a pack of wolves that were going to tear them limbs from limbs if they caught them.

"What are you _doing_?" she hissed in alarm.

"Just cover me!" he demanded. Hill shot him a furious look.

"_Nothing_ is going to stop them from tearing us to pieces Barton! I ran out of explosives!" she hissed. Clint angrily slammed his fist against the door. _They were going to die before he even found Natasha. _

"Fire at them anyway!" he growled back as he worked as fast as he could to break through the lock. Hill's eyes flashed to the end of the hall as the floor started to shake with the pounding of paws on concrete getting closer and closer.

"Hurry up they're right behind us!" Hill yelled as she spun around and pressed her back against his as she fired continuously as the dogs rounding the corner. Clint clenched his jaw as he desperately tried to concentrate under the backbreaking stress.

_They were going to die. _

_They were going to die. _

_They were going to die. _

_Tasha. _

"_Barton_!" Hill shouted as the wolves came at them at full speed. She slammed her eyes shut and mentally prepared herself to die a painful, _agonizing_ death. Clint tensed as he fumbled with the lock and finally heard it _click_.

"I got it! I got it!" Clint answered quickly as he promptly kicked the unlocked lab door open and dragged her in right as the wolves flew across the lase stretch of the hall with murder in their eyes. Hill quickly spun around and moved to slam the door shut behind her but right before she managed to pull the door all the way a black blur that smelled of death and decay shoved itself into the doorway and came inches from biting her head _right_ off with its massive jaws. Hill nearly let go of the door handle in shock.

"_Fucking hell _shoot it Barton – shoot it god damn it!" she yelled as she firmly kicked the beast in the face and tried to shove it back out of the gap in the door way. Clint clenched his jaw and shook his head.

"But bullets don't _work_ on them!" Clint growled as he swiftly pulled out a specialize arrow from his quiver. Hill shot him a look of disbelief as he fired it straight into the red eye of the angry spit dripping beast – his aim was true just as he knew it would be. Blood spattered all over Hills' uniform – but the beast just growled and kept snapping its ugly vicious jaw at her - _even with a damn arrow in its eye._

"But an arrow is going to do even _less_ _damage Barton_!" Hill shouted as she continued in futile to close the door with the suddenly even _angrier_ bleeding alpha wolf's face snarling and trying to bite her and rip her to shreds.

Clint gritted his teeth and pressed a button on his bow and they both winced as the massive beast gave an ear splitting _screech_ as a gigantic electric shock flashed through the wolf's fur and forced him to back up and collapse onto the floor in pain.

Hill didn't even wait a second before she instantly _slammed_ the door shut and snapped the lock into place. The repeated _bangs_ against the other side of the door scared their both half to death – but the door held in place. They both wordlessly shared a sharp look and ran to the other side of the room to work together and shove as many lab desks in front of the door as they could manage. When they got all 5 lab desks stacked and shoved against the door that kept shaking with the weight of several vicious wolves pounding into it. Hill swiftly shot Barton an alarmed look.

"_What else?_ What else can we barricade the door with?" she asked sharply. Clint clenched his fist around his bow and shook his head.

"There is nothing else," he said as he firmly pulled her away from the door that continued to shake with snarling sounds echoing against the dimly lit walls.

"Is it is going to hold?" Hill asked shakily. She was completely out of breath and nearly tripped on her own feet as they both backed away from the door and hit the back wall of the completely trashed lab. They looked like two military soldiers dragged off a bloody battlefield with the amount of scarps, scratches and blood soaking their hair and uniforms. He _really_ hoped Natasha was faring better than them – for his own sanity.

"I don't know," Clint replied tiredly and equally out of breath. They both tensed as the sound of a larger and more heavy body thumped against the door and caused the hinges start to give followed by the sound of several snarling, vicious howls that told them the 3 wolves they faced off in the hall had brought company.

"They're going to break down the door any second now and we're going die," Hill said tightly gripping her gun and turning to look at the man she was about to die with. Her eyes saddened. _She wished she could have said bye to Coulson. _

"No we're not," Clint said staring up at the ceiling above them and gripping his bow tightly in his hand. Hill followed his line of sight and stared at the large vent opening staring back at them right above her head.

_BANG! _

The door hinge squeaked as it started to give under the weight of the assault. Clint instantly cupped his hands together and stared at her dead in the eye. They weren't going to die – _not until he found his damn partner. _He vowed silently in his head.

"Hurry up and take the boost Hill!" he shouted over the loud howling as the the wolves pound at the door to get at them.

_Thump! Thump! Thump!_

Hill's head shot to their left to take in the large indents in the door that was about to give and quickly made up her mind as she wordlessly accepted his boost. Clint rapidly pushed her up as fast as he could so that she could grab onto the edge of the vent and pull herself up the rest of the way.

_BANG! BANG!_

_CRASH!_

The door promptly broke off its hinges and crashed to the floor just in time to reveal an angry snarling pack of red eyes bloodthirsty monsters. Clint paled instantly.

Oh he was going to die a painful death.

"Oh _fuck_! Pull me up! _Pull me up Hill_!" Clint shouted as the wolves growled and prepared to pounce.

"Give me your hand Barton!" Hill shouted as she reached down and grabbed his sweated palm and yanked him up with all her strength.

"Faster! Faster! _Faster_!" Clint shouted as he heard the desks they shoved up against the door break in half with a loud _smash_. Hill pulled him as fast as she could as he was heavy and her arms were shaking and she almost had him half way into the vent when he screamed in pain. She froze in terror before her training kicked in and she whirled into action. She promptly whipped out her gun and fired several shots at the terrifying white fangs digging into Barton's leg and when the fury creature dropped away she roughly pulled the rest of him into the vent and caused them both to crash into the cramped metal box wall with a painful _smack_. Hill gasped from the weight of Barton's much large body crashing into hers. He was crushing her lungs so she roughly pushed him back so that she could roll onto her own back and _breathe_. They both collapsed onto opposite sides of the vent as the earsplitting howling continued below them.

"We need…to keep…moving…Barton," Hill gasped as she stared up at the ceiling as her vision blinked in and out due to the exhaustion that was threatening to make her black out.

_Silence_. Hill stopped breathing.

"_Barton_?" Hill asked sharply as she pushed herself up and stared at the sweating and red faces agent lying on his back on the other side of the vent.

"Shit no _don't pass out_! Not now Barton! Not yet! We have to keep going!" Hill shouted as she rapidly slapped the fevered looking archer across the face to try and keep him awake.

"_We-we got to find her_," Clint murmured groggily as he battled the black dots in his vision that pleaded with him to let them send him into blissful unconsciousness. But he couldn't do that – he couldn't leave Hill to deal with this mess on her own – and he had to find Tasha.

_Tasha. _His brained wrapped itself around her name like a lifeline.

_He had to find her._

_He had to find her._

_He had to find her._

Nothing else matter other than the fact that he had to find his partner.

He suddenly hissed as Hill moved back and brutally put pressure on his puncture wound.

"Stay _with_ me Barton! I'm not dragging your dead weight through these vents!" she growled at him. Clint was about to tell her to she was going to kill him anyway with the amount of pressure she was grabbing his injured leg with when something made his blood run cold. Both their hearts stopped beating when they heard a bloodcurdling feminine _scream_ that echoed through the hollow walls of the vents from every angle.

"Was that…?" Hill asked unsteadily leaning heavily against the wall as her heart pumped erratically in her chest. This mission was going to kill them all. Clint nearly lost his stomach and almost _threw up_ right then and there. That was the single most terrifying sound he has even heard in his life.

"I-I don't know," he whispered as the fear literally clawed at his chest. _He thinks he was going to die if that was her. _

He has never heard Natasha Romanoff scream once in his entire life.

Not once.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: lalala - Well that was new! Haha! :D We have seen Clint and Natasha work together for so many chapters – Barton and Hill is like a nice change right? LOL even though I all know you're all dying to know what happened to Natasha in this gigantic mess. How did our lovely wolves get on level 7? **

**So yes I've made her scream…but now you're left wondering what exactly the cause was. You're only hint was it wasn't the mutated wolves. Something much worse. **

**Next chapter is all Natasha and her badass self. Maybe even a Fury preview. **

**INTERESTING FACT: Can you tell I wrote this entire chapter backwards? From the last scene all the way up to the first? That way I could build the suspense better because I wrote the most shocking scenes first then working my way back to foreshadow the epicness. How did I do? **


	96. Chapter 96

**I dare you**

**A/N: Natasha Time. WO! **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 96 **

_"Just don't do anything stupid Natasha - I'm almost there," Clint said as she listened to him finally manage to haul himself up onto into the tiny lookout box. Natasha wanted to throw something at him - her? Be stupid? He already had that corner of the market covered. She heard him inhale a sharp breath as he surveyed her work of the guards. _

_"Damn you did a number on these guys Tasha," he muttered under his breath. Natasha snorted. Why was he so shocked? _

_"You watched me do it," she replied warily as she glanced around the silent security room reeking of death and a foreboding feeling she couldn't shake no matter how much she tried. _

_She didn't think this mission was going to end well. _

_Did they ever?_

_"Not the same as seeing it up close," Clint muttered in her ear as she glanced up at the ceiling and surveyed the layout of the room. She was missing something. Something was nagging at her. What was it? _

_"99% percent breeched," Coulson's voice suddenly broke through the momentary lull in the tense conversation. Natasha noticed a small black object stuck to the wall and tensed. _

_Bugged. _

_"Shit. Barton we've been made-" _

_BAM! _

_Natasha spun around and stared at the sealed door behind her. She gritted her teeth in anger for not seeing this coming. She was screwed. At least Barton wasn't here with her something whispered in her mind. _

_"Oh shit no!" Clint's alarmed voice echoed in her ear before all she heard was static. Natasha paused as she heard nothing else from her tense partner who would be asking a string of questions right now - but she all she got was silence. _

"Barton?" Natasha said slowly as she backed away from the wall with the camera bug and tried to unlock the door - she couldn't. Natasha inhaled a sharp breath.

She was trapped.

"Barton can you hear me?" she said carefully feeling her way around the door and mentally running through all the possible ways she could break down the door with the materials she had in the room right now. She had to get out before the stale air of death in the room suffocated her. Frankly she had to get out before Barton lost his mind - she didn't doubt he was losing it right now.

Dramatic overprotective asshole.

"Barton?" Natasha growled as she slammed her fist against the sealed door.

"He can't hear you agent Romanoff - but I don't think that is your biggest concern right now," an unfamiliar voice suddenly spoke from behind her. Natasha instantly tensed.

She spun around and stared at the suddenly bright screen in the center of the wall of dead security screens. Natasha cursed under her breath - this was planned. This was planned. This was _planned_.

They've walked into a trap.

"You really didn't think I knew you were coming?" a voice echoed around the small dark room with amusement clearly colouring his arrogant tone. Natasha narrowed her eyes - he was playing her.

"We never really pinned you for the intelligent type if you decided to blow your cover at SHIELD with such disastrous results - what kind of spy are you Yago?" Natasha spat as she glared daggers at the man shrewd in the shadows of the image on the screen. All she could make out was the white flash of his razor sharp smirk. The rest of his face was lost to the shadows. One single look would verify who he was - she had memorized the file before they even left base.

"Hmm, let's see who the bigger idiot is. Infiltrated the organization 2 years ago. Worked my way up to the top in less than that. Killed 4 officers in 7 months to get posted as the Romanian commanding officer. Managed to put moles in places SHIELD will never be able to flush out entirely. Fed my employers information only the highest clearance could access - but there is still only so much an officer can know in an intelligence organization. No, for the true ultimate access you need alpha order control - and he's still not giving it to us. How long do you think our lovely director is going to last Romanoff? A few more hours? Maybe another day?" Yago asked crossing his hands over his chest as he tilted his half hidden face to the side. Natasha didn't believe his shit for a second.

"You're bluffing. You can't do anything to him because the things he knows none of us do. And you just signed your own death warrant Vasil Yago," Natasha said menacingly.

Yago's smirk got even more twisted - if that was even possible.

"Oh I signed that crap a long time ago. You're trying to play me at my own game Romanoff. You're a smart agent - but I didn't get to where I did in the SHIELD bureaucracy by not knowing how to best the best," he said ominously leaning forward so that she could finally make out the rest of his handsome ragged face as he flashed the camera a dirty smirk. Natasha froze and nearly dropped her gun in alarm.

Holy freaking fuck she was staring into the eyes of Kate Bishop's freaking half-Russian partner.

"What the _fuck_?" Natasha hissed. The Dmitri lookalike smiled menacingly at her. This wasn't the face of the man from the mission files at _all. What the hell was going on? _She finally heard the distinct hissing sound coming from all corners of the ceiling. She tensed.

"Is it getting hard to breathe yet Natasha?" he whispered. Natasha's eyes steeled as she promptly _stopped_ breathing. She quickly spun around and flew across the room as she fired at the lock on the door. She had to get out.

_BANG! BANG! BANG! _

She was going to die if she breathed in whatever was in the air.

_She was going to die._

_She was going to die. _

_She was going to die. _

_She was never going to be to kick her partner's ass ever again. Never going to be able to bitch at him ever again. Never going to be able to kiss the breath out of that little arrogant piece of shit ever again. _

"It's no use Romanoff - you're stuck with me," Yago/Dmitri whoever the hell he was said with a sharp smirk on his face. Natasha banged her fists angrily against the sealed door – it has more locks on the corners then the one she blew off 10 minutes ago. She fought the panic as her vision started to flicker and the familiar effects of hypoxia began to take full effect as the oxygen depleted rapidly from her brain.

"We're going to have so much fun together agent Romanoff," he said with a deep booming laugh that felt like a vicious stab to her gut.

With the last bit of her energy Natasha whipped a knife at the blinking screen to kill the disturbing image that was freaking her out and slumped against the wall as she promptly ran out of oxygen from not breathing. She cursed in Russian as she was forced to breathe in the unknown gas in the air and she promptly crashed to the floor and blacked out.

She was unconscious in a room full of dead bodies all over again just like in the past.

Sometimes she really _hated_ her job.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The next moment Natasha woke up her first reaction as always was_ continue to play unconscious until she figured out where she was, what the threat was, where the threat was and how fast she could get out of whatever restraints she found herself trapped in and neutralize the threat._ After doing a swift head to toe checkup cataloguing all her important motor and bodily functions her hopes rapidly plummeted to the ground.

She was in a blindingly bright white room.

She was not alone judging by the threatening figure sitting in a chair next to her head.

The fact that a gun was trained to her forehead was not comforting in the least.

But really the only thing that mattered was that she was strapped to some sort of ice cold medical surgery table with iron restraints wrapped around both her arms and legs.

Fuck she hated these types of interrogations.

_BANG_!

She instantly braced herself for the pain of the shot – but she felt nothing but air.

She felt like slapping herself when the voice behind the barrel of the gun chuckled darkly.

"I knew you were awake – open your eyes and face death with some dignity Romanoff ," the familiar voice said tapping the metal weapon against the edge of her neck. Natasha's eyes flew open and she came face to face with a man she swore she met in Japan. But she saw no recognition in his eyes – which was just fucking with her head. _Who the hell was he?_

"No games anymore Yago? Or is that even your real name?" she sneered giving him a nasty look.

_BAM_!

The dark haired man dressed in slick army cargo pants and a tight black military shirt promptly pistol whipped the mouthy Russian across the face and sharply sliced her cheek open causing it to bleed heavily down her face. Natasha's head whipped to the side and she spat out a mouth full of blood as they glared daggers at each other.

"I'm not in the mood for games anymore – you're going to tell me what you know of me or I'm going to _end_ you," he said threateningly. Natasha stared at him with narrowed eyes. She really couldn't imagine Dmitri – the man who looked at Bishop the exact way Barton looked at her, was that same man pointing a gun at her right now.

Someone's face wasn't real – but she didn't know which one of them was lying.

"I've never met you in my life," she lied through gritted teeth.

_BAM_!

He beat the pistol across her other cheek and forced her face to the opposite side and thoroughly cut through her lips causing them to bleed steadily.

"_Liar_," Yago growled as an impatient rage burned in his eyes. Natasha scoffed darkly.

"Maybe if you asked more nicely I would be more inclined to tell you," she said sarcastically. Yago's eyes darkened as his Russian captive barely looked like she even felt the huge gashes cut across her face.

"How did you find this base?" he said digging his gun into her arm with his finger on the trigger. Natasha gave him a menacing smile with was all blood red and sharp teeth.

"Wouldn't you like to know Yago?" she disdainfully.

_BANG_!

Natasha chuckled darkly as the bullet passed straight through her forearm. She immediately lost the feeling in her left arm and watched it go limp. She had learned to disconnect the mind shattering pain that came along with a bullet shot – so she kept laughing.

Yago narrowed his eyes at the assassin shaking with hysteria. _He just freaking shot the woman._

"Have you gone insane Romanoff?" he asked steadily. Natasha continued to laugh as her head rolled to the side and she pinned him with a bored look.

"Oh poor boy is frustrated that his damsel in distress didn't scream from a little rough play?" she said mockingly innocent. Yago narrowed his eyes and pressed the barrel of his gun against her right shoulder.

"I'll keep shooting you until you tell me what I want to know," he said warningly. Natasha gave him a slightly crazy smile that made him want to get 10 feet away from her. She absolutely _reeked_ of insanity. Or maybe that was what she wanted him to think.

"And I'll keep laughing at you when you fail to get want you want and throw a tempt tantrum like a little girl," she whispered pouring all her considerable seductive talents into her voice just to fuck with him. Yago narrowed his eyes.

"Are you just going to sit here and bleed until you die Romanoff?" he asked seriously as he leaned back against his chair. Natasha gave him a dry look.

"If you kill me you get nothing," she said frankly - she would have shrugged – if she could have moved her arms without spasming in pain. Yago smiled slowly.

"Ah, but you're not the only agent here are you Romanoff?" he whispered vaguely.

Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"No matter what you try Yago – I'm not giving you anything," she said firmly. No matter what he did – there was nothing that would make her give up any information. In the wrong hands SHIELD Intel could kill millions. Barton would shoot himself before she even had the chance to compromise information for him. Yago frowned as he watched her build up her walls and smiled her own creepy killer smile at him.

He was forced to wonder who was interrogating who exactly.

He was rapidly starting to realize that no physical damage can make her scream - she is too well trained. If he kept shooting at her he would lose his chance to interrogate one of the many agents he knew were currently watching his base. He needed her to cooperate. Yago leaned forward and tapped his gun against her bleeding lips.

"But your darkest memories little SHIELD agent...memories have a way of unlocking your worst nightmares now don't they?" he whispered ominously. Natasha took a sharp breath.

"Go _fuck_ yourself Yago," she spat threatening. A slow grin spread across Yago's face.

_Bingo_. Reaction.

"Want to be my guinea pig today Red?" he asked barely holding in his excitement while twirling his gun on his hand. Natasha furiously tugged at her restraints and growled at him.

"Call me Red again and I will bite your hand off," she growled menacingly. Yago chuckled darkly - he was too happy with his discovery to care about petty threats.

"So feral Romanoff. You already have an animal in you. What would it be like if you switched bodies with one?" he whispered conspiratorially. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Animal to human consciousness transplants are _impossible_," she hissed staring at him like he was a madman. Yago smirked.

"You don't understand how good of a geneticist I really am," he said arrogantly.

Natasha instantly dropped the insane angry agent act.

"So _that's_ your play," she muttered under her breath.

_Slap! _

Natasha's face whipped to the side and her eyes darkened. There was no Barton to stop her now.

"You really shouldn't have done that," she said lowly as the temperature in the room instantly dropped by several degrees. Yago took deep controlled breaths – she was starting to piss him off.

"You better shut up Romanoff before I leave you here to fend for yourself," Yago said warningly. Natasha narrowed her eyes but ignored his statement.

"You shouldn't have done that because when I finally get out of these chains and get my hands on you - I'm going to stab you with your own knife and hang you from a poll in a room full of starving savages and _watch you get eaten alive_," Natasha hissed while tugging at her restraints. Yago titled his head to the side – two can play the threat game.

"Two agents just got into my base – I wonder if I should send them a surprise hello?" he asked taping his gun against his chin as he glanced at the control panel beside him. Natasha prevented her body from showing any outward reaction at all – inside she was cursing her partner and telling him to _get the fuck out_.

"You're wasting your time," she warned. Yago gave her a grim smile.

"You're actively signing their death warrants," he shot back. Natasha lied there on the medical table as stiff as a board. Her heart hammering in her chest but she ignored it.

"Our lives are full of death anyway," she said distantly. Yago cocked an eyebrow.

"Is that so?" Yago asked warily flipping through a folder with the SHIELD logo on it. There was way too much information given to him by SHIELD in his hands. Natasha gritted her teeth – she had to wrap this up fast and cover all their bases. He knew too much.

"How many agents are surrounding the base?" Yago asked without looking at her as he had his fingers pressed against a button with unknown purpose. Natasha beat down the apprehension and kept her expression deceptively neutral.

"None," she said blankly. Yago narrowed his eyes and slammed his palm against a red button on the wall. Natasha tensed as they both heard a series of angry howls echo against all the walls of the interrogation room. She instantly took a sharp breath. She really hoped Barton knew how to out run a wolf.

"You just killed your partner agent Romanoff – how does that feel?" he asked with a twisted grin on his face. Natasha calmed her frantic mind and watched him steadily.

"A couple of dogs are not going to end him," she said tightly. Yago's lips quirked up.

"No – but that virus in their saliva just might," he whispered. Natasha froze. _No_.

She instantly stopped pretending she hadn't already managed to unlock her resistant and flew across the room in a whirlwind of red. She was in his face and had him locked in a choke hold within nanoseconds.

"I am going to _kill_ you," Natasha growled harshly. She had her currently only uninjured arm choking him by the throat and slammed him back against the wall with one fluid motion. Yago coughed against her merciless grip but smirked through the pain.

"Why did you wait until I already released them Romanoff? Did you want your partner to die? Is he _that_ much of an annoyance to you? Are you truly a lone wolf Miss Black Widow?" Yago taunted as she tightened her grip on his throat.

"Where is Fury?" she demanded shaking him back and forth in her death grip. Yago's taunting morphed into a look of disgust.

"As if I'd tell _you_," he spat.

Natasha nearly bashed her fist into the cocky bastard's face when her brain suddenly felt like it shut off and her vision flickered dangerously. She lost sight of Yago's smirking face as the world tuned on its head and spun out of control.

"_What the hell_?" Natasha hissed as she lost half her vision and her grip on his throat slackened unintentionally.

"Feisty assassin you are truly," he said as he coughed from the merciless grip she had on his throat, "- but I'm not stupid. _You're already drugged Romanoff_," Yago whispered as he gave her a bloody red tinted smile. He watched the ruthless Russian assassin collapse to her knees as the drugs started to take effect.

_"I'm going to kill you Yago_," Natasha hissed as she braced her hands against the wall and fought the drugs with all her considerable iron will – she couldn't let the drugs take effect. She couldn't live through those things again. She would die. Her brain felt like it was burning in a blazing fire before she unwilling passed out for the second time that day.

And then she got pulled under mercilessly. She didn't know if she'd ever get back out.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**.**

**A/N: She hasn't screamed yet. That's because nothing he could do to her physically would make her scream. Natasha is not afraid to die. The only thing that can make Natasha Romanoff scream is what's in her head. **

**Next chapter is flashes of Natasha's past from 1989 to 2002.**

**Things she is never going to tell agent Barton. **

**Things she did which she regrets more than life itself. **

**Things that would make her scream. **

**If you thought wolves were bad you haven't seen what the world's deadliest Russian assassin has been through. **

**What made The Black Widow who she is today?  
**


	97. Chapter 97

**Chapter 97 **

**WARNING: This chapter contains borderline M rated violence. As in mention of torture, rape, mutilation, drug abuse, mental abuse, child abuse, sexual assault, assisted suicide, medical abuse and extreme self-harm. **

**Please read with caution if you are under 14 or if extreme violence does not sit well with you. (But honestly…you are reading a story about some of the best killers in the world – what did you expect?)**

**Why?**

**Natasha Romanoff's damnable past.**

**I'm trying to be serious...but I'm pretty sure some of you are just shaking with anticipation because you're evil Clintasha angst loving weirdoes just like me. Lol. **

**Have fun. **

**(Fluff fans should close their eyes...now. I am a drastic multiskilled author. Just because I can write fluff doesn't mean I can write this either.) **

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**. **_

_**Chapter 96 **_

At this point Coulson has lost all contact with his team in the HYDRA base. He is sitting semi-impatiently waiting in their jet with one ear open to the dead com link connected to the agents trapped inside in the base and another focused on the SHIELD medical team that was slowly but surely making their way up here.

Something told him they were going to need them. Between agent Romanoff , agent Barton and agent Hill there was going to be enough bruises and broken bones to give Coulson a headache that would last him a lifetime.

"You three are the top three headaches in this organization," Coulson muttered as he leaned forward in his chair and read over everything he could find on Vasil Yago. There was not much. He was supposedly ex-Romanian military and had been dismissed from service due to some type of head injure early on in his career. He made a full recovery but decided not to return to the battlefield.

Judging from his SHIELD medical assessment results, Yago's past injuries were probably the only thing in his file that was not a lie. That included his name, his age and his murky past. His entire identity was likely just a well crafted lie - as of right now SHIELD had no idea who he really was and how they could have possibly had one of the biggest breech in internal security in decades.

HYDRA was always a potential threat - but never like this - never on a level that truly threatened the structure and future of their organization. Yago spoke nearly as many languages as agent Romanoff and had been a good commander that oversaw many successful large scale operations in southern Europe. He had been a good leader.

Good leader does not always translate to good intentions.

The first person to even catch whiff of something being off had been Iago's own second in command - who promptly alerted the council but mysteriously went missing on mission the very next day.

That was when heads starting turning in New York - and when headquarters got involved things got serious.

And here they were 2 weeks later still trying to deal with this mess that started with a well planned and well executed attack on their entire Romanian base. When this was all over Coulson was going to take one long well deserved vacation...to the Bahamas, or New Zealand or South Africa - anywhere that was far away from intelligence agencies, secrecy, cranky field agents, touchy assassins, ex-partners who gave him a heart attack with her terrible personal care habits and moderating potential nuclear disasters out in the world and in their own backyard.

Some agents clearly had a mouth that could radiate _anything_.

He didn't know if he would see those agents again.

Coulson took a deep breath in and told himself to calm down and do the best that he could in his current position. Freaking out would help no one.

"We're going to be okay," he breathed out as he rested his forehead pressed against his fists with his elbows propped up against the jet control board.

He believed in their agents. He believed in what SHIELD stood for. He believed that good would always win in the end. He believed that justice existed for a reason and that everyone should be held accounted for their deeds. He believed that he was helping to build a better world.

As long as there are people like Phil Coulson in the world SHIELD will be able to go on fulfilling what they strive to stand for. Even if some of the operations that they engage in are not always strictly legal they are undertaken to keep the delicate balance SHIELD has tried so hard to maintain over the years. Life is not about dominance - it is about harmony. And when nations, countries, communities and even the general public refuse to co-e-exist - people like Romanoff and Barton are born to do jobs no one else can. Some mission are only possible for a very small and specific group of agents in SHIELD with the perfect skill set and the proper experience. But perfect skills come with a high price.

In the end there are people like agent Coulson who are the model SHIELD agents . The agents who are the preferred and distinctive diplomats chosen to represent the organization as a whole.

But then there are people like agent Romanoff who are the desperately needed agents perfect for the field but are severely unappreciated. She is not the enemy - but she can be if you rub her the wrong way. She is not an ally because no one has truly earned her allegiances. If she was to be categorized as anything she would be SHIELD's leap of faith.

SHIELD needs all kinds of agents and in return their agents need them. It's what you do as an agent in the name of your organization that should count towards your reputation and worth - not the dark past every single agent possesses without fail. You don't work for SHIELD without having a few skeletons in the closet.

Everyone has secrets - some of them are just darker and harder to find.

Everyone has regrets - some are just deeper and more earth shattering.

Everyone has made mistakes - some are just unforgettable.

Not everyone has a ledger - but those that do understand that no matter how much you try - once there is red in your ledger - the stain will never come out. The red stain will haunt you forever.

And yet the world goes round.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Natasha couldn't see anything. Not the floor, not her hands, not even the interrogation room she was just head butting with Yago in. She can't hear what he is doing - she can't even move because she feels like she is in cardiac arrest. The blood was rushing to her head and voices were shouting and screaming in her ears. Colours were crashing into each other as blurry images flashed across her mind trying to pull her this way or that. Natasha couldn't handle all the noise and soon she found herself curled up in a corner in her natural self-protective response and fought to keep the memories away. She didn't want them. She didn't want to remember. She didn't want to go back. She didn't want the cold, the faces, the blood.

She never wanted any of it.

Natasha took several shaky uneven breaths as she held herself tighter and squeezed her eyes shut.

The memories came anyway.

_**Russia, Moscow, 1989**_

_7 year old Natalia stood stiff as a rock as she stared at her new trainer dead in the eye. He stared right back at her while holding out a gun to her even if she didn't necessarily need it. She slowly accepted the metal weapon and stared at the odd shaped object in wonder. _

"_You're going to hold this. This is not a weapon. You are the weapon Romanov. You have no feelings. There is no such thing as pain. And with this gun you are going to be in control of every situation and every possible outcome," her ruthless trainer said with darkness swirling in his cold black eyes. He was a killer just like she was meant to be. _

_She was going to be just like him. _

_"What do you want me to do with it?" she asked cautiously feeling the weight of the object in the palm of her hand. Did he want her to kill just like him? _

"_First lesson – understand what exactly you are holding in your hand can do," he said carefully watching her admire the weapon in her hand with unreadable eyes. Natalia paused. _

"_How?" she asked slowly. _

_Her trainer slowly turned the revolver around in her hand and pointed it at the right side of her chest several inches away from her heart. _

"_Shoot yourself," he said dead seriously. _

_Natalia stopped breathing. _

_She watched as her trainer stepped back and started a stop watch. _

_Tick. _

_Tick. _

_Tick. _

_She couldn't breathe. _

"_At the one minute mark – I'm going to kill you," he said steadily aiming his own gun at her forehead. 90 percent of new recruits failed this test. Natalia started to breathe faster as her heart pumped erratically in her chest. _

_49 seconds later they were still locked in an intense staring match. Her trainer put his finger on his trigger. _

_10. _

_9. _

_8. _

_7. _

_6._

_5. _

_4. _

_3. _

_2._

_Natalia slammed her eyes shut and pulled the trigger before he did. _

_BANG! _

_**Russia, Siberia, 1990**_

_8 year old Natalia ran bare foot through an icy Russian forest dressed in nothing but a scrap of a dress as she sprinted with all she was worth just like she has been doing for the past 6 hours. _

_She heard a howl in the near distance behind her and ran faster. _

_If she stopped running the wolves were going to catch up to her. She was breathing heavily, her feet hurt, her entire body was screaming at her to slow down and take a rest – but she knew she would be dead if she did that. _

_She wasn't going to lie down and let death walk all over her. _

_Natasha Romanoff was a survivor. _

_She just had to keep moving until she reached the designated safe house she was told existed 10 miles into the forest. She thought she had finally caught site of the tiny hut when her bare foot caught on an hard jagged piece of ice and she crashed to the forest floor. _

_A low growl behind her told her she was dead. Natalia slammed her eyes shut and prepared for death. _

_BANG! _

_Instead of a large sharp set of teeth sinking into her skin like she expected Natalia got her breath knocked out of her as a large oppressing weight fell on top of her body and nearly crushed her to death. Natalia frantically shoved the dead weight off of her so that her lungs weren't being crushed. She managed to roll over and take in a deep gasping breath but froze as she came face to face with the dead open jaws of the 7 foot beast that just nearly bit her head off._

_She knew the test was over – she had not passed. _

"_You have failed your test Natalia," the familiar voice of her trainer rang loud and forebodingly in her ears from her communicator. _

"_I'll do better next test Sir - I promise," Natalia pleaded still out of breath. She swayed on her shaky feet as her mind and body were half lost to her extreme hypothermia. _

_Silence. _

_"Sir?" Natalia asked exhaustedly while aching all over. She pushed herself up off the snow covered forest ground and fought back a heavy shiver that threatened to shake her entire body. _

_The cameras were gone. The black suits watching her were gone. Her trainer was gone. She stared at the only proof that she had been followed by the Room at all stuck to a tree with a red handled knife stabbed through it buried into the bark. _

'_Start walking.'_

_She was 100 miles from any city whatsoever in a subzero Siberian storm, lost in a forest with beasts that roamed the snow covered floor like border patrol. The wind blew harshly against her face and covered her in another layer of snow and caused her skin to turn blue - the only reason she wasn't dead was because of the special surgeries and treatments they keep doing on her since she was young. They said it was to make her stronger - they said she was going to make her country proud. They said she was going to do great things. _

_But Natalia didn't want any of that. All she wanted was to be left alone._

_And for the first time in years Natalia was all alone. No doctors. No trainers. No medical labs. No other Black Widow girls. No experiments. No surgeries. No targets. _

_She was well and truly alone._

_Natalia slowly sank to her knees into the snow and laughed half-hysterically as her hands shook in front of her. What was freedom? Was this it?_

"_I'm all alone. I'll always be alone. I'll survive because I'm alone. Alone is safe. You're safe Natalia," she whispered shakily. She repeated those words of comfort to herself a hundred times before she finally managed to believe them._

_She trusted no one but herself and that was what kept her alive. _

_Some 8 year olds had teddy bears. Natasha Romanoff had one single red tinted knife that was the only thing that got her out of a winter Siberian nightmare live. _

_But to her she doesn't believe the nightmare ever stops - even when she wakes up. _

_**Russia, Saratov, 1995 **_

_12 year old Natalia knew about sex. She knew what it meant. She knew how it was done. She knew what it did to men. She knew how it felt._

_It was the most disgusting, gross and unpleasant act in the entire world. _

_She hated it. She despised sex. Sex was just another fighting tool to her. She would use it when they asked her of it - but otherwise she stayed far, far away from it. _

_Currently Natalia was silently leaning against an alley wall. She was half hidden in the shadows as she listened to her target who was an ex-military officer made a girl even younger than herself cry as he took her harshly against the dirty wall. Natalia's eyes hardened. _

_She felt something like anger twist in her stomach. _

_She hasn't felt this uncontrollable anger on someone else's behalf once in her entire life. _

_She decided she wasn't going to wait until the bastard was done and alone before she killed him. _

_BANG! _

_The sick Russian bastard choked on his own blood as he stared at the bullet hole in his chest, before he slumped forward and collapsed to the ground. When his body dropped to the floor it revealed one of the most terrified little girls Natalia had ever seen. The girl was small, blond, naked and covered in purple and blue bruises. She was shaking uncontrollably as dry tears covered her face. Natasha's eyes hardened. _

_If she ever showed that kind of terror the Room would have killed her years ago. The girl took one look at Natalia standing there with a gun pointed at her head and burst into a fresh round of tears. Natalia narrowed her eyes. _

"_Stop crying," she ordered harshly. The young girl covered her mouth with her small hand and shook her head. _

_"I-I can't," the girl sobbed. Natalia was silent for a moment as she considered what to do. She made up her mind and stared the girl dead in the eye. _

"_Leave the country – don't come back," she said coldly shoving one of her guns into the naked girl's shaking hands. She stood up and walked away without a second glance back at the broken Russian girl sitting on the ice cold alley floor with nothing to her name except the gun an unknown assassin gave her. _

_Not everyone is as strong as you think they are. _

_Natalia paused as she heard a single gunshot echo behind her. She listened for the thud, before she steeled her eyes and kept walking until she disappeared into the night. _

_That was the last time she ever gave another girl a gun. _

_Most girls were too weak. _

_She was not weak. _

_**Russia, Vladivostok, 1998**_

_A 16 year old Natalia held a whip in her hand as she stood in front of a beaten and battered soviet prisoner that had the misfortune of falling on her round of interrogation. Everyone feared the Black Widow's interrogations - they most vicious uncooperative prisoner always went to her. Today she got a soft one - one that break to easily and were no fun at all. Natalia gently brushed her fingers against his shaking bleeding cheek as he stared at her with barely concealed fear in his eyes. Natalia smiled. _

_She liked Americans – they were decent screamers. She leaned forward until they were only a hair's breath apart. _

"_We're going to have so much fun together," she whispered against his ear. The American practically whimpered. _

"_Please – please kill me before they do. Please," the American agent who had been caught working undercover in soviet intelligence begged her as he trembled in his chair. Natalia narrowed her eyes. If they wanted him to succeed in his mission they should have sent someone who was less afraid to die. He was caught within days. Natalia gave him a deceptively apologetic smile before she wrapped her whip around his neck and tugged him forward until their lips nearly touched. He was shaking with fear. Her blood red lips curved up in a sinister smile. _

"_But living is so much more exciting than death," she whispered right before she plunged her knife into his shoulder and twisted the blade breaking his shoulder joint in the process. _

_She could hear the agent scream for hours. _

_The sick pleasure she got from listening to him scream lasted for days. _

_**Russia, Stavropol, 2001**_

_BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. _

"_Natalia ignite the bomb! Do it now while their defenses are down!" Barnes' voice echoed in her ear as she stared at the scene in front of her. _

_There was gunfire. _

_There was fire. _

_There was bloodshed everywhere. _

_There was an internal war between the soviets fighting for black market control happening in the city of Stavropol - and the world would never know. Everything in Russia was censored before being released to the world. Natalia's only job was to bomb enemy base –but she was frozen with her hand on the trigger while staring at a four year old standing in front the window 5 feet away from where her bombis meant to detonate. She saw the colours of the explosions on the street reflect against the little girl's eyes. _

_Her eyes were full of awe and fear – just like hers were during that night in the hospital so many years ago. _

_Natalia stared at the little redheaded girl for 3 whole seconds – 3 seconds in their world was a long time. _

_She felt his looming presence behind her before she heard him. _

"_Natalia…," he said carefully putting a hand on her shoulder and telling her they needed to go without say a word. Natalia didn't move – she was frozen in place. She was reliving the hospital fire over and over again in her head. She was about to do the same thing to this little girl. Barnes saw their window of action rapidly start to close and his eyes hardened. If he was anyone else witnessing her moment of weakness she would have been eliminated on the spot._

_Instead he reached over her shoulder to grab her hand and pressed the trigger for her. They both watched in slow motion as the fire exploded from the fireplace behind the little girl and the entire building went up in flames turning her beautiful red hair to ashes within seconds. _

_He silently sat beside his partner and he held her hair back while she threw up everything she ate over the past week. Even after she had emptied her stomach she kept dry-heaving for what felt like hours. She would have fell into her own puddle of vomit if he didn't pick her up and carry her away. He ignored how limp and quiet she was in his arms as he made them disappear from the battle field before anyone noticed her compromised state. _

_He told the handlers she had finished the job with as much emotionless efficiency as they all believed she could. How could she not after the things she's done? _

_How could she still feel anything after the things she has done?_

_**Russia, Stalingrad, 2002**__ (1 year before agent Barton)_

_Natalia silently loomed over her sleeping target dead in the night – it had been such a simple task to get into the house. There wasn't even a decent security system put into place. He was a government official high up within the Russian bureaucracy – he wouldn't cooperate with intelligence's demands and so he needed to be replaced. _

_She was his notice of resignation. _

_Natalia raised her gun and pulled the trigger. _

_BANG!_

_The target stopped breathing immediately. It was just too easy. She lowered her gun with unseeing eyes and tensed as she felt a new presence behind her. She spun around and had her gun aimed and ready to fire when she came face to face with 2 feet of little black hair mop of hair and sleepy baby eyes. _

_"What are you doing in papa's room?" the little green eyed boy asked hugging his worn out blue blanket to his chest. Natalia took an uncomfortable step back until the backs of her knees hit the bed where lay the sins of her gushing red ledger. She did these things for her country – that is what they told her. _

_"You should go back to bed," she said quietly looking away from the tiny child. The little boy shook in place as he stared up at her with big green eyes. Why did they have to be green? _

"_I'm scared," the baby boy whispered. Natalia felt her mask start to crack as she slowly lowered herself to her knees – a terrifyingly beautiful woman covered in blood. She sat in front of her target's child and just stared at him. _

_Love was for children. No one else deserved love. _

"_Don't be scared. You're very brave," Natalia said soothingly in a motherly tone she was trained to play to perfection. The small child was lulled into a sense of security immediately – it nearly killed her. _

"_Can I hug you?" the small boy asked in a tiny voice as he stared up at her with his too large green eyes. Natalia wondered if he understood that she just killed his father or not. She was selfish enough not to care because no one has asked her for these kinds of things in years. _

"_Okay," she said softly. She stood still as a statue as the little boy shuffled forward and hesitantly wrapped his tiny arms around her neck – she has never let anyone get close enough to warp their arms around her neck. She fought the urge to break the arms trapping her in place. She felt the little boy breathe soft puffs of air against her chest and she felt her mind ease. _

_For a moment the merciless Russian assassin felt some twisted sense of peace. _

_But then she heard voices in the distant, shouts in Russian alerting her of the second phase of their political assignment – the entire building had to go along with all the evidence. _

_Rule 1: Don't get caught. _

_Rule 2: Don't be seen._

_Rule 3: Leave no survivors. _

_Natalia nearly slumped to the ground in agony. _

_He saw her face. No one is allowed to see her face. _

_The voices got closer – they would just finish her job anyway. The child was the last link to the target. _

_She hugged the small little boy tighter against her chest. She hasn't hugged anyone in years – she doesn't remember the last time someone hugged her back. She slammed her eyes shut as she pointed her gun to the little boy's head and pulled the trigger. _

_BANG! _

_A defected pregnant asset in Indonesia._

_BANG!_

_An ex-soviet politician's niece in Prague. _

_BANG! _

_An uncooperative arms dealer's wife in Germany. _

_BANG! _

_A rogue Red Room operative in Zimbabwe. _

_BANG! _

_Shot after shot after shot after shot rang in her ears. _

_Until the one single time in her entire life Natalia never got her target. _

_**Russia, Vladimir, 1992 **_

_Natalia had her target where she wanted him. He was Russian mafia that was feeding money to the wrong gangs that were causing unwanted disturbances in Eastern Russia. He was defenseless and she had a gun trained to his head – it was supposed to be as simple as locate, disarm and neutralize. Then suddenly Natalia's hold on her gun loosened as something odd made her head go fuzzy. She gritted her teeth as she swayed in place in front of her target. The large hairy beast of a man smiled creepily at the little girl like he knew something she didn't. _

_"You're so pretty Natalia," the large Russian mafia boss' deep voice boomed as it echoed around the dark and empty hotel room. Natalia froze as terror suddenly arrested her heart and made it start beating erratically in her chest._

"_How do you know my name?" Natalia asked in alarm as she stumbled while backing away from the suddenly extremely dangerous looking man. She couldn't think straight – her thoughts were all messy. Why were they messy? She was not messy in anything. _

"_Too pretty kill," the large hairy man whispered as he followed her until she was the one who was suddenly cornered against a wall. Natalia started to breathe irregularly. She couldn't think – why couldn't she think? _

_Where's her gun? Where's her gun? Where's her gun? Her mind shouted in her head but her body wasn't responding. _

_She felt her entire body get roughly shoved up against the wall and she was trapped between the ugly man's chest and the hard surface – but she couldn't get herself out before a white cloud of confusion arrested her sharp mind and prevented her from fighting back. The larger Russian overpowered her instantly. _

_She hated drugs. She hated drugs. She hated drugs._

"_You're such a beautiful little girl Natalia – want me to show you how beautiful you are?" the hairy Russian whispered with hot baited breath as he got turned on by her vicious struggling. Russians were beautiful in their anger. _

_Natalia tried to fight and kick his hands away from her but her body wasn't cooperating with her brain. The Russian bastard smiled before he slammed her head into the wall and brutally pinned her arms above her head before he tugged at her clothes and ripped them to pieces. _

_Then he ruined her for life. _

_10 year old Natalia screamed. She screamed and yet nobody heard her and nobody was there to care.  
_

_Someone else much older, much stronger, much more resilient was screaming for the first time in 11 years too. But nobody would care anyway. She was a killer. It didn't matter if killers got raped right?_

A lot can happen in 11 years' worth of suppressed memories being torn out of the shadows of one of the most controlled and skilled assassin minds in the world.

You don't need to go far to find terrible truths– Natasha Romanoff's mind has enough darkness to burn the entire world to the ground.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

2 floors up from level 5 two agents were rapidly running out of time – to complete this mission, to save themselves, and to find their missing agent.

"Fever, dilated eyes, colour rapidly fading from skin, steady bleeding, need to put pressure to prevent detrimental blood loss," Hill muttered under her breath as she rapidly worked to stop the bleeding of his puncture wound . She wrapped his leg in the emergency gauze agents always had on them during combat missions. Hill gritted her teeth when the he continued to bleed right through the 5 layers of bandages.

_She's going to lose him in minutes. _

She listened to his shallow breathing suddenly dip into a steady even pattern. She glanced up and found him staring at her with hard calculative eyes.

He had his sniper face on.

"Hill…," Clint said steadily watching her tighten the makeshift bandage around his shin. Hill clenched her jaw as she tried to keep her frustration with their situation in check.

"What? What more do you want me to _do_ Barton?" she asked irritably as she continued to assess his medical status.

"We need to find her," he said firmly grabbing her shoulder and stopping her autopilot medical response training in action. She paused as she stared at his injured leg. He wasn't going anywhere any time soon. Not like this.

"You can't walk," she said tightly. _He was no help to anyone._ Clint glanced at her mission pack and they both knew what he was thinking. Her eyes hardened. No.

"Jack me up on morphine and we're going to be fine," he said evenly. They both stopped moving as they stared at each other.

The clashing SHIELD senior commanding officer vs. SHIELD senior field agent glaring match nearly burned the entire base to the ground.

Morphine was just asking for trouble.

"You're lying – you need immediate medical attention Barton," she said carefully. _Or he was going to die from whatever was pumping through his system right now._ Barton's entire frame tensed – he wasn't going anywhere until he found his partner.

"We're going to be fine," he grounded out. Hill narrowed her eyes. There were times when you had to pull rank and tell an agent _enough_ before they truly killed themselves.

"You got bit Barton – you are off this mission _now_," she ordered as she steady pointed her gun at his forehead. Clint's eyes steeled as a darker part of him that hasn't surfaced in years suddenly started pounding on the edge of his brain and demanded to be let out.

"Don't make me hurt you," he warned. Hill readjusted her aim to the nerve in his shoulder that would render him incapable of movement. He tensed as he realized she was much more trained then him when it came to rendering targets immobile.

"Don't make me hurt _you_ Barton," she said with equal warning in her voice. Romanoff and Barton are not the only trained assassins in SHIELD.

Who knows what Maria Hill's past was like?

They both stared at each other as the howling continued below and the thin metal walls around them shook violently as the wolves bashed their heads against the wall in an attempt to get them to fall to their deaths and allow themselves to be eaten alive.

"_She's being tortured_," he said damningly with absolute certainty in his words.

Hill's eyes hardened – she didn't deny it. Clint leaned forward and shoved her gun away from his shoulder. She could never shoot him –they've known each other for too long. There was only one scenario he would ever shoot Maria Hill in.

"You're going to hit me with morphine and we're going to find her Maria," he said with a cold determination settling into his eyes as his razor sharp gaze said the rest. Hill didn't even pretend to misinterpret his look.

_I'm going to kill anyone who stands in my way to get to her. _

An injured assassin with the menacing look in his eyes was probably even more dangerous than a healthy one void of all the uncontrollable anger that was currently threatening to explode from inside one of the most patient men in the world.

When Clint Barton truly loses his patience the world is going to burn.

He is going to burn this base to the ground. He is going to get his partner out. He is going to personally hunt down the man who _touched his partner_ and he is going to kill him in ways he promised himself he would never kill again.

Barton is going to destroy Vasil Yago with his own bare hands. He was going break his body until there wasn't an unbroken bone left in him. He was going to make him bleed until all his blood had spilled out onto the prison floor because he was sure his partner's blood has been spilled today too. Barton pulsed with barely suppressed rage as that thought sent his mind into single minded killer mode. His eyes darkened until they were nearly black ores full of retribution. This was the first time he wanted to brutally murder someone without any kind of restraint holding him back in _years_.

All he could see was _red_.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**._I hope you're still breathing._**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**A/N: Honestly that doesn't even qualify as evil...that is just cruel. I have graduated from evil and have earned my own devil spot. But Natasha's past is cruel and ruthless and that just a taste of it. You all wanted to know for 95 chapters what I think of her past? Well that was a start. There are so many reasons why she doesn't share these memories with Barton. She's at war with how she was conditioned to act and the person Clint sees under all the armor she's build around herself over the years. She trusts Barton with her life - but not with her past.**

**It's not about love – it was never about love - it's about loyalty. **

**And for someone like Natasha – loyalty and trust are two things that will always be more important than love. Those are the two things that shone the most during the Avengers I think. After 9 years of missions like these? No wonder she put her spy suit away and forced herself to be a soldier to fight a war that wasn't her fight. No wonder she pulled together the most impossible team in the world to get this one man back. This one man that mattered. And we haven't even gotten to Budapest yet. Budapest is so much worse – so much worse. **

**But right now she hasn't known him long enough to know her past. He knows he hasn't earned it yet. **

**Now you wonder why Natasha is such a hard closed off person? You wonder why she has such a difficult time recuperating Clint's feelings even after months of working with him? You wonder why she doesn't believe in love?**

**Who would believe in something as laughable and fleeting as love with a traumatic 20 years living a nightmare past that makes the Black Widow what she is today? When all they saw of love was being used as a manipulation tool to overpower someone? When having any emotions whatsoever would lead to an instant death sentence or things worse than death? Who would come out believing in anything after a past like that? **

**No one would.**

**The beauty of this story is that despite the cold truth of what they are they try anyway. **


	98. Chapter 98

**I dare you **

**A/N: And Romania continues. I don't really think the suspense will stop until this mission truly ends. It's one hell of a nightmare for clintasha.**

**Enjoy! **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 98**

Clint stared at Maria.

Maria stared at Clint.

They really didn't have time to be staring at anyone right now.

"Hit me," he said seriously. Maria narrowed her eyes.

_SLAP! _

Clint's head literally whipped to the side as he nearly rammed his face into the vent wall. His eyes widened in shock.

"_What the hell was that for?_ I meant the _morphine_!" Clint shouted in frustration. Maria's eye twitched. She was spending way too long in the pain in her ass archer's presence. The amount of Barton dramatics she could handle in one day had reached its limit - an hour ago.

"For being a jackass - I finally understand why Romanoff is forever glaring at you when you two are at SHIELD," Maria said gruffly before she pulled out the morphine needle from her pack and unceremoniously attacked him.

_"Ah! Warn a guy why don't you?_" Clint hissed as she literally _stabbed_ him in the thigh with the needle. Maria gave him a unapologetic look as he instantly felt the morphine rush through his system and made him feel lightheaded. The pain rapidly turned into a burning feeling of numbness that spread through his body like wild fire. The affect was instantaneous.

"God damn it I hate drugs," he grunted as he swayed in front of her. Seconds later he fell forward and crashed into her shoulder and sagged as he waited for the dizziness to subside and the world to stop spinning. Numbness was good - losing the sharpness of his mind was not. Maria checked her watch and took several deep breaths as she waited for him to come around. They both tensed as the howling increased and turned into angry growls right below their position in the vent. Clint finally pulled away from her a few minutes later and glared down at the furry beasts.

"Shut the fuck up you noisy son of a _bitch, I have a headache_," he growled back at the wolf. The red eyed beast practically _seethed_ at him. Assassin vs. Wolf in a fair fight - his arrow would win hands down.

The wolves bared their teeth at him and snapped their jaws threateningly anyway. Clint's eyes glazed over as he scoffed.

"Oh yeah? You want another one of my electric arrows? I'll kick your furry _ass_!" Clint hollered as he shook his bow wildly at the wolves.

Maria sighed and irritably rubbed her forehead. A drugged Barton was even _worse_ than a healthy annoying one. God - what did she do to deserve this?

"If you're feeling well enough to insult the beasts that tried to eat us then you're well enough to crawl - let's go," Maria ordered as she dumped all her supplies back into her mission pack. She swung it back onto her shoulders before she started moving without another word. She heard him silently crawl behind her and she steeled her eyes as she tried to figure out which way Romanoff would be judging from the scream they heard 10 minutes ago. All she heard was eerie silence - except for Barton's unsteady breathing. He bore his pain silently. He really wasn't okay - but he was so damn _stubborn_. His dedication made her feel like she was finally working for the right organization after all these years. She paused as she came across a diverging point in the vents and felt him knock face first into her ass. Her eyes flashed.

"_Barton_," Hill growled through gritted teeth. Clint instantly backed up.

"Sorry, can't really feel anything," he muttered rubbing his head. Her eyes grew weary- that wasn't good.

"Do you feel less loopy then a minute ago?" she asked carefully. Clint blinked hard as he tried to catch her words that were like water in his ears. It was hard to understand her - but he could finally think without the intense pain clouding his mind a few minutes ago. _Damn he really hated drugs._

"Less loopy...hearing is a bit off but my head is clearing up," he muttered truthfully. Hill nodded before she continued her crawl down the left side of the diverging path - doing anything useful was better than sitting around waiting to be eaten alive or watch Barton bleed out or succumb to whatever was screwing with his system and die. She paused as she caught sight of a room full of men in dark suits busily running around, packing papers and technology.

_Jackpot_.

"Barton, we found central control room," Hill whispered over her shoulder. She heard a grunt in reply.

"_So_? It's not the cells - we'll come back for it after we get Natasha," he said nudging her forward in a gesture to keep moving. However Hill held her ground.

"But we should-"

"_No_," Clint said harshly - instantly cutting her off. Maria growled angrily.

"But we _need_ that information they are packing away Barton - by the time we get to Romanoff, we'll be lucky if we have enough time to get out let alone do recon before they clear out and we're left with breath crumbs _again_," Hill said in frustration. They would have come all the way out here for nothing. HYDRA would be cleared out within the hour and they would be back on square one - this was their only chance. However, Clint was clearly not on the same wavelength as Hill.

"We are _not_ stopping to stick our nose up _HYDRA who ever the fuck they are's_ ass when my partner is being tortured as we speak," he hissed. Maria's eyes hardened.

"Mission objective over the operative Barton," Maria quoted regulation at him - he felt like she had slapped him across the face - with a crow bar. Clint's blood started to boil under the surface of his dark expression.

"I don't give a _shit_ about regulations right now Hill," he said dangerously. Agent Hill tensed - Barton would never say that if he wasn't drugged.

Or at least she liked to believe he wouldn't. She didn't know what his limits were - but his partner in serious danger seemed to be a monumental reason for him to abandon his mission. That was a dangerous realization on her part - one that made her angry. How _dare_ he put a single agent before the mission?

"Would you give a shit if the information they have could kill millions of people agent Barton? Would you care _then_?" Maria whispered harshly as she grabbed him by the front of his uniform and shook him roughly back and forth. Clint's eyes flashed dangerously.

"What if she was Coulson? Would _you_ care about mission objectives then Hill? _Would you_?" he growled lowly as he angrily shoved her back. Maria's eyes flashed in anger as she sharply looked away. Clint narrowed his eyes. Natasha was just another agent to her - but she was _everything_ to him.

"You've lost your priorities Barton," Hill hissed at him. Clint tensed. _How dare she say that?_

"I didn't lose anything. We are going to finish the mission Hill - but on _my_ terms. Because when you let the person who you spend every single fucking day and night with, who is supposed to watch your back while you watch theirs, who you trust to come save your ass when it needs saving and they trust you to come save theirs when they need it - when you let that person die on your watch? _That_ is what I call messed up priorities Hill," he spat viciously. Hill was about to give a biting retort when something stopped her.

They both froze as the vent shaft creaked.

The eerie silence was back - but it shouldn't have been silent. They were whisper arguing above a room full of HYDRA agents after all. Clint and Maria both tensed as their eyes shot down to find 5 guns aimed at their feet along with nearly a dozen pairs of razor sharp eyes locked onto their exact location in the vents above the control room.

"_Oh_...," Maria muttered neatly sliding her gun out of her holster.

"-_Shit_," Clint finished from her. They both dived out of the direct line of fire at the same time.

_BANG! BANG! BANG! _

"_Go_! I'll hold them off Barton!" Hill shouted as she braced herself against the vent wall as bullets ricocheted off the metal casing. Clint stared at her in alarm. Oh no, she had the same look Natasha gets on her face when she is about to do something that is going to piss him off.

"What? Whatever the hell you are going to do - _don't do it Hill_!" he growled warningly. No one ever listens to Clint Barton though - especially not a drugged one.

Maria flashed him an arrogant smirk right before she shot of the bolts that held her section of the vent together. He barely had enough time to sharply drag himself back before the entire vent broke and she fell through the floor right dead center into the crowd of HYDRA agents waiting to shoot at them from below.

_BANG! BANG! BANG! _

"You're made of crazy shit!" Clint hollered at her as she rolled out of the line of rapid gunfire and promptly shot three of the agents as they lunged at her. The rest of the agents stood gobsmacked as the tiny brunette took down 3 more agents without even getting shot once. One of the smarter agents quickly sprung into action.

"What are you all waiting for? Shoot her damn it!" the angry agent shouted as he successfully tackled her to the floor. Maria held back a sharp wince as they hit the floor before she roughly kneed the agent in the gut and threw him off of her. She swiftly jumped to her feet and roundhouse kicked another agent in the face as they rushed at her from behind. She gracefully flipped a second gun out of her second holster strapped to her shin and shot one of them dead in the forehead before they could even get their finger on their trigger. Maria breathed heavily as her hair slipped out of her tight pony tail and fell into her eyes, before she glanced over her shoulder and gave Barton a fleeting look.

"Go save your partner Barton - come back when you've hauled her ass out of the fire!" Hill shouted as she turned back to face the significant number of HYDRA goons and sucker punched one of her assailants hard enough that he smacked back into his fellow HYDRA goon and they both crashed to the floor into a OK'd pile of limbs.

"Who the _fuck_ are you?" one of the agents asked in disbelief. Maria's lip curved into a twisted smirk.

"I'm a SHIELD agent," Hill said with threatening look swirling in her eyes as she held up her gun and dared them to come at her and get shot down by her bullets.

Clint huffed as he watched his boss kick ass without him. It was insulting. He was not going to be outdone by a god damn _home bound agent - _even if she _was_ second in command (and with good reason). He took out his bow and set an arrow into place before he rapidly shot down three of the agents that came at her from behind. She ducked as his arrows continued to fly and slammed her fist into one of the agent's neck and elbowed another as he tried to rush her from her left. She grabbed the second last agent around the wrist and twisted his arm hard enough that they could all hear the loud _snap_ as his entire shoulder blade broke. She pushed the half delirious with pain agent to the ground just as one last arrow _whooshed_ through the air and stabbed the last agent standing behind her with a gun trained to the back of her head. She turned around just in time to watch him collapse to the floor with a slim black rod sticking out of his chest- thoroughly dead.

Hill breathed heavily and lowered her gun as she stood in a room littered with HYDRA agents. She glanced up at the still slightly glassy eyed archer sitting in a half broken air vent. She gave him a weak smile. She couldn't go with him. She had a job to do too.

They held eye contact for as long as they dared before they said, "Don't die," at the said time. Then they both turned around and shot off in opposite directions. Hill had a computer to crack and Barton had a Russian to find.

Some partnerships are temporary, some are born out of necessity, but some partnerships go beyond the call of duty - some partnerships are meant to last a lifetime.

_Tasha_.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

In another part of the base not too far away from where Hill and Barton just split up there was an unusual scene that never existed in all the bases that SHIELD has ever infiltrated.

There was one single guard watching the prison cells of the HYDRA base.

Just one.

That had to be a joke right?

The guard scanned the empty hall as he stood in front of the prison door entrance with a single shot gun in one hand and his other hand curled into a fist. "20 minutes," he muttered under his breath as he shifted in place and glanced at his watch to make sure he kept to his assigned time.

"You know, if they wanted to keep intruders out - they should have more than one guard guarding the prisoners - because that is the first place we always go," a dark voice said menacingly from behind him. The guard tensed before he spun around but came face to face with thin air. He felt a ominous presence shift behind him yet again and he raised his gun as he sharply spun around once more.

_WOOSH! WOOSH_! _WHOOSH!_ The guard was instantly pinned to the wall with several sharp arrows slicing through his uniform sleeves and pant legs - thoroughly halting his motions. One last arrow knocked his gun right out of his hand and the gun hung uselessly hooked around the length of a thin black arrow buried into the wall beside the guard. The guard looked up and came face to face with a heavily breathing dark haired man in tactical gear and a darkness swirling in his eyes that promised death and destruction if pushed too far.

"Are you going to kill me or what?" the guard asked in a bored tone.

Clint stared at the smirking man pinned to the wall as the guard stared at his death in the form of an arrow drawn to strike - but Clint held back his shot as he instantly recognized the look on the man's face.

"You're a suicide bomber," Clint said quietly lowering his bow. He wasn't going to kill someone who wanted to die. The guard rolled his eyes. _Bleeding heart_ _Americans_.

"Sharp - how did you know?" the guard asked in a bored tone as he rolled his head over to stare at the stiff archer through two lazy slits of eyes.

"_Bosnia_," Clint said quietly taking a step away from the man that reeked insanity. He had enough of a taste of insanity to deal with in his own head. The HYDRA guard gave him a dangerous leer.

"American soldiers - they never know what they're doing bumbling around in someone else's country," he spat. Clint flinched but held his ground as he kept and arrow loosely pointed at the man's face.

"I agree that maybe the U.S. military barging into a foreign country is not the answer to international problems - but someone has to be there to stand up for the women and children. Killing yourself won't save all the people that have already died. Kill yourself and you just become another number in a statistic," Clint said stiffly. He knows what he is talking about - once upon a time he was almost a statistic.

"Then why don't you kill me before I kill some more of those poor innocent people?" the guard asked with a sneer. Clint's eyes darkened.

"I would - but I'm not stupid," Clint said glancing down at the timer strapped to the guard's wrist that read 00:15:09. He had 15 minutes to get in and out of this prison.

"I shoot you and we both blow up," Clint said evenly, as his eyes flashed back up to lock with the dark ones full of hatred and contempt.

"Clever," the guard whispered. _A ghost of a hand griped Clint's shoulder and the echoes of a past comrade saying he'll cover him while he defused the bomb rang in his ears. The grip on his shoulder loosed as he watched his comrade walk in to line of fire as 19 year old Clint Barton who was one of the most talented bomb defusing experts in the army took out his 246th landmine bomb. He disabled one threat - he couldn't foresee the suicide bombing even if he tried._

_Comrade never came back._

Clint blinked the unpleasant memories away until they quickly faded.

"No - just experience," he said quietly before he pulled out a dart and stabbed the guard in the neck and held it in for 10 seconds before the man passed out. He stepped away from the guard and kicked the prison hall door open and instantly started searching the dark and dirty cells for the two people he was looking for - but they were all empty.

_Why were they empty?_

"Come on. Come on - where are you Tasha?" Clint muttered under his breath as he ran down the hall and scanned every cell he laid eyes on - but there was no redhead or smart mouthed Directors in sight. He ran passed a sealed door and caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. He instantly came to a screeching halt before he spun around and backed up the way he came. His boots slid against the floor in his hast to get a good look into the sealed room. He wiped the fog that had built up on the glass and stared at the scene in front of him - _he felt like throwing up again. _Two men in SHIELD issued uniform were lying on the floor - dead and foaming at the mouths. Clint would have sharply turned away and kept searching for his partner if he didn't suddenly catch sight of two other agents who were still very much alive huddled in the corner with only cargo pants on them and a rainbow array of bruises covering their torso on all sides. _Holy shit they were supposed to be dead. _

"_Hey_! Hey are you guys okay?" Clint asked as he banged on the window to get their attention. Two heads shot up and Clint recognized them as two agents he has brief contact with in the past during training or something else Hill roped him into a few times during his short stints stuck on SHIELD base for one reason or another.

"Don't open the door!" the two conscious agents shouted in alarm. Clint froze.

"Why not? What's wrong?" he asked cautiously.

They both faltered on their answer to that. Clint narrowed his eyes - he didn't have time to stall but he wouldn't leave them to rot away in a sealed cell either.

"Get away from the door - let me try and get you guys out," Clint said steadily as he took a step back and pulled a slim metal tipped arrow out of his quiver.

"Unnecessary - we can get out fine Barton," the blond man he recognized as agent Kiel said sharply with a look that said - _don't you dare let that arrow fly hawkboy._

"Then...why are you still here?" Clint asked carefully lowering his most loyal weapon.

"How do you think Agent Turner and Collins died?" Kiel asked flatly pointing to the two lost agents deposited on the far side of the cell - rotting away and making Clint double his desire to get the two survivors out.

"_Holy shit_ - you're the infected group," Clint said under his breath. _And I am probably too _a voice echoed in the back of his head. He ignored it. He had more important things to worry about. _Tasha._

"It's not a pretty death," the second agent Gram said quietly with his arms resting on his knees as he stared at the ground.

"Is it contagious?" Clint asked tensely. If he was contagious he would just shoot himself right now - there was no way he could go after Natasha if he was just another danger to her. Agent Kiel shoot his head.

"We doubt it - the doctors poked and probed us to their heart's content," he said bitterly. Clint internally sighed in relief. He could go after her after all.

"Do you know about the wolves around here?" Clint asked carefully. They scoffed.

"How could we not? That's the first time we met when we got in here," agent Gram said with a harsh laugh - it was a little more hysterical then Clint was comfortable with. Waiting to die a certain death was never good for one's sanity.

"Any idea about what's in their killer bite?" Clint asked steeling himself for the worst case scenario. Agent Gram stopped laughing and grew serious again.

"We heard bits and pieces - we think there's some virus in the wolf saliva - docs said it's meant to kill you in less than 24 hours - but it's volatile . Collins and Turner died within 18 hours - but we're still alive," Agent Gram said while staring at him in a way that Clint knew he was busted before he even said a thing.

"Well that is a lovely confirmation," Clint said tiredly - he just had to stay alive long enough to get Natasha out - nothing mattered after that. Both agents gave him a sharp look.

"You should get out of here and get a SHIELD medical team to look at you before it's too late - you still have time," Agent Kiel said evenly. They were well passed incubation period - but Barton still had a slim chance. Clint shook his head and gripped his hand tighter around his bow.

"It's not an option right now. I'm still breathing so I'll take my chances until we get everyone out - then SHIELD can fix me right up," he said firmly - he had to pretend to believe that with his entire being. The agents sighed - they knew he was lying through his teeth.

"Director's not here - if you're here to get him you should keep moving," agent Kiel said turning away from the archer. Clint paused - the Director - _right_.

"I didn't know you were on mission with Fury," Clint said with a frown - when had agent Kiel gotten approved for field work? That last time he saw Kiel he had been flying through training and driving their SHIELD base instructors insane.

"When was the last time we talked Barton?" agent Kiel asked staring at the wall. Clint winced.

"Sorry...I've been...busy," Clint said lowering his eyes. Natasha dominated his world for the last few months. He has been so busy trying to build their partnership he's been neglecting all his other professional relationships. Agent Gram snorted from the side.

"Interesting isn't it? Having a partner," he drawled. Clint shifted uncomfortably with the change in the conversation.

"It's definitely _something_," he muttered. Something like a permanent _addiction_ - a life threatening one.

"And you used to be the one to make fun of us non-solo agents for being so '_attached'_ to our partners," agent Gram said with a dark chuckle that was a little too sharp not to sting. Clint grimaced.

"I understand why you all went batshit crazy when they try to separate you and put you on long term solo ops. Working alone doesn't cut it after you get a good partner," Clint said regretfully. He had been sort of an ass to the younger partnered agents before Natasha - okay maybe a downright heartless bastard was a better description. He didn't understand back then.

"Welcome to the dark side Barton," Agent Kiel said while still staring at the wall. Clint sighed.

"It's not that dark - that's the problem," Clint muttered. It's too nice. It's too good with her. He's always scared something is going to ripe that away from him - the one thing he ever truly wanted.

"You're running out of time - get out of here before they send anyone else to kick your sorry drugged ass," Agent Gram said warningly. Clint shook his head in the negative as he clenched his hands into fists.

"They'll bury this place before they clear out - there has to be something I can do," Clint said in frustration as he slammed his fist into the wall beside the sealed prison door. They were going to die - but being buried alive was not a pain free way to go.

"There _is_ something you can do," agent Kiel said with an odd look in his eyes as he got off the floor and walked over towards the door.

"What is that?" Clint asked carefully. Kiel stopped in front of the window separating the two senior and junior agent. He gave Barton a piercing look.

"Tell my partner agent Lee that I'm sorry for being an asshole...and that the only regret I have is letting go of something I should never have taken for granted. Tell her I didn't regret anything else - tell her I regret nothing that happened," agent Kiel said quietly leaning his forehead against the side of the door. Clint inhaled a sharp breath. _Compromised_.

"Stay alive and tell her _yourself_," Clint said tightly. Kiel smiled weakly.

"I wish I could - but we won't survive long enough to do that," he said quietly. Clint tensed - he knew that tone.

"Kiel...," Clint said warningly. Agent Kiel shook his head.

"Look away Barton," he said steadily as he picked up a gun off the floor and agent Gram did the same. Clint froze as his heart starting beating like crazy as red alarms went off in his head.

"Kiel that is not going to solve anything!" he shouted in alarm as he banged his fist against the door.

"Goodbye Barton," he said and he clicked the safety off the gun. Clint stared at them in horror.

"Ready agent Gram?" Kiel said taking a deep breath. Agent Gram nodded.

"It was an honour working with you agent Kiel," he said with a weak smile.

"You idiots _listen_ to yourselves!" Clint shouted as he punched the wall beside the sealed door. There was no way he could open the door without setting off an alarm and killing them anyway. Kiel gave him a steady look.

"We don't want to die because of an enemy explosion or a deadly virus Barton - I'd much rather die at the hands of someone I trust - wouldn't you?" he asked heatedly. Clint froze - he couldn't deny that no matter how much he wanted to.

"This isn't how good agents should go though," he said in defeat as he leaned his forehead against the cell window.

"This is us being cowards and not wanting to die slowly like we know we should - look away," agent Kiel ordered as he continued to stare his partner in death dead in the eye. Clint looked like he had one last protest left in him with agent Gram cut him off.

"Look away Barton - even if you're infected - you still got a better shot then we do," Agent Gram said as he held his finger on the trigger. They had maybe an hour - he had a full 15 at the least. Clint's shoulders slumped - there was nothing he could do except grant their last wish.

"I promise I'll tell Agent Lee about your death myself if I survive," Clint said in defeat. Agent Kiel sighed in relief.

"_Thank you_," he breathed sincerely. Clint _couldn't_ breathe so he just nodded lifelessly. The second he slammed his eyes shut the two agents steeled their ones.

"_Goodbye_," they whispered in unison just before they shot each other dead in the forehead.

_BANG!_

Clint slid down the door and took several shaky breaths as he tried to calm his mind and compartmentalize what just happened. No one is trained to watch their colleagues commit suicide even if the alternative is so much worse. He can't fault them because if he gets to that point he is going to be doing the same god damn thing. Clint took another deep breath and suddenly he was coughing and heaving as he slammed his palm against the wall. He closed his eyes as he dropped his bow and nearly coughed up his own lung. When the coughing fit subsided his sagged against the wall and opened his eyes to see blotches of red _everywhere_.

There was blood all over his hands, his bow and his uniform was soaked with it - his own blood. He was bleeding from the inside. Clint banged his head back against the wall and just stared up at the blinking lights on the ceiling of the empty prison. _He's finally going to die on a mission after 5 years. How many times has he thought about dying? How many times did he think he was ready for it? How many times did he throw himself into the line of fire and not care if he came to alive or not? Too many. _

But those dark destructive thoughts stopped after he met her. Maybe it was karma that he was going to die _after_ he found the one person that makes him want to keep living. Maybe he deserved a tortured death like this in compensation for all the wrong he has done in his life.

"_But_ _not yet_," he muttered before he pushed himself off the ground and started running.

_He had to find her. He had to find her. He had to find her. _

_He had to make sure one of them got out alive. _

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Well this is turning out to be the most suspenseful mission I ever wrote across all my stories. Poor Barton thinks he is going to die - well he's halfway there that's for sure. I love him though - he is such a resilient soldier that will just keep fighting until he can't move a single muscle. **

**And excuse me for the following freak out that I feel obligated to share with you all: **

**I JUST GRADUATED HIGH SCHOOL!AHH! (technically I finished my last exam this morning) **

**WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!**

**I HONESTLY DID A FREAKING HAPPY DANCE! AFTER 4 LONG YEARS I'M DONE BABY! (Even though I am kind of going to university next year to study neuroscience for another 4 years but whatever -details) OH AND I'M TURNING 18 THIS SUNDAY! MAYBE I'LL EVEN UPDATE! :P**

**Yeah. I know you do not care about my nerdiness and my news but I told you anyway! :P **

**!Adios amigos! Summer things to do! (like writing -XD).**

**Next chapter we see Badass Fury - finally. **


	99. Chapter 99

**I dare you **

**A/N: CHAPTER 99? Damn. THIS IS ONE LONG STORY haha.**

**EPIC FURY CHAPTER STARTS NOW - GO!**

**Remember in the world of espionage, trust is everything. **

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**Chapter 99**

The second Barton was gone Maria was flying through the pass codes and firewalls that protected the HYDRA base mainframe - she was _not_ going to fall for the same trick that caught Coulson off guard. She made sure to disable every virus possibility imaginable before she manually hijacked their data base. Her eyes narrowed as she flew through the protection walls like Coulson went through pens during one of his paperwork marathons.

She was a damn good hacker - better than her former partner. She has spent years with computers before SHIELD even came into the picture for her. She checked her watch as she waited for a specific screen to load and her eyes flashed with frustration - someone was going to come in here wondering what happened to all these missing agents in control center. Damn it she needed to get out of here and find Barton, Romanoff _and_ Fury if she wanted any hope of counting this mission as the biggest success or the biggest _failure_ of her career. If any of those 3 important SHIELD members died she was going burn HYDRA to the ground with her own bare hands. Her eyes refocused back on the screen in front of her as the screen finally loaded to the one she wanted.

"Come on. Come on. Come on, I _know_ it can work," she muttered under her breath as her hands flew across the keypad and her sharp eyes scanned all the codes moving at a rapid speed as she scanned the series of numbers. She rewrote several code to access the system at lightning speed and took a deep breath as she all but slammed her hand down on the enter key.

_Bing_.

The images that floods her vision nearly gave her a heart attack.

"_No_," Maria whispered in alarm as hundreds of SHIELD classified files covered the screen - the files just kept popping open and revealing every single operation they have running around the world. She shook her head in disbelief.

"He only ran the southern European branch - how does he have access to world operations?" Maria asked herself with dread filling her voice. All their internal files were in the hands of the enemy. She clicked on a file with all their black op agents and watched in terror as an entire list of their most covert agents' codenames and civilian identities filled the screen. No one was supposed to know about that department. No one except the Council, her...and the Director.

Maria froze as the colour drained from her face.

"Nick, _what did you do_?" Maria asked as the fear started clawing at her chest and her palms started to sweat.

"They have _everything_," she whispered as she slumped against the control board. Her arms started to shake as she stared at the controls while trapped in her faith shaking shock.

"This is not happening to me. This is not happening to me. My Director is _not_ a double agent," Maria whispered in utter shellshock. "_I trusted you damn it!_" she shouted as she slammed her fist into the screen and watched a gigantic crack spread across the glass. She breathed heavily as she felt the rage start to boil in her blood. She couldn't believe it. She refused to believe it. She had to stay focused on her allegiances - because he asked her to.

_**1 week ago, SHIELD BASE, New York City. **_

_Agent Hill stood in the doorway leading in the Director's office and stared at the profile of her boss standing by his one large window overlooking the New York streets. _

_"You called Director?" she called out from behind him. Fury didn't turn around._

_"Did you hear about the incident in Romania yet?" Fury asked carefully while continuing to stare out the window and watching busy New York traffic below. Maria's expression turned grim. _

_"Of course - the Council has been having a field day about that one. They want Yago caught and interrogated - with prejudice," she said evenly. Fury clasped his hands behind his back and she saw his one good eye grow serious. _

_"Do you trust me agent Hill?" he asked abruptly changing the conversation. Agent Hill stiffened. _

_"What type of question is that Sir?" she asked carefully. Distrusting your superior was direct insubordination of the highest degree. Fury took a deep breath. _

_"Have I ever made a decision in the past that sounded insane in the beginning and that didn't make any sense until the end?" Fury asked vaguely. Maria's eye twitched but she remained impassive - she really hated when he got vague and mysterious. It pissed her off - it was one of the major things she hated about her job. _

_She never knew what he was thinking until he turned his thoughts into completely fleshed out actions. Things were usually exploding by then. _

_"A few times it was hard to understand...but why are you saying this now? What are you really asking?" she asked carefully. Fury straightened his back but continued to stare out the window. _

_"I'm asking you to take a leap of faith," he said quietly. Agent Hill narrowed her eyes. _

_"It's hard to want to jump without any reassurance that something will break your fall Director," Maria said cautiously. She was not his right hand man because she was a compliant agent - she was respectful - not stupid. She made the barest hint of a frown on his face. _

_"I'm going to handle the situation in Romania. I want you to bring in a field team if our initial ground operation doesn't go as planned," Fury said steadily. Hill tensed - he never handled simple missions like these. He wasn't telling her something again. Hill gritted her teeth and held her tongue. _

_"Do you want Evans' Team?" she asked slowly. Fury shook his head and slowly turned to finally lock eyes with her. _

_"No - I want Barton's," Fury said steadily. Hill stared at him. _

_Like _hell_ she would approve that one. _

_"Barton's team isn't qualified for this level of operations Director - you're the one who put him and Romanoff on medium risk espionage missions to test them in the first place. We don't even have a full grasp on Romanoff's mental state after deprogramming and Coulson is not helping with his tendencies to protect the ones he likes. We don't know her threat level yet Sir - she could still be working for the Russians," she said through clenched teeth. She was putting her foot down on this one. She refused to put an unstable team with unclear allegiances on a mission they weren't ready for and SHIELD was not ready to give them. Fury didn't refute any of her concerns - that pissed her off even more because that meant he acknowledged the risks but as usually he was going to selectively ignore them. _

_Sometimes she wanted to tell her boss he was a downright secretive bastard - but that would be unprofessional of her. And she was nothing if not professional. _

_"I know - but trust me no one else is going to be able to handle this one," Fury said with a sigh that carried half the weight of the world's problems in it. _

_"How do you know they're ready for a mission like that?" she asked sharply. Fury gave her a wary look. _

_"I don't know anything for certain Hill - that's why it's called a leap of faith," he said quietly. Hill clenched her hands into fists - there was no compromising with him. It drove her crazy. _

_"I'll only send them if it's an emergency," she said with finality. Fury raised a single eyebrow. _

_"Who's the Director? You or me?" he asked warily. Hill scoffed. _

_"You're the one who made me second in command - so I get to tell you where you can shove your vague orders sometimes," she said with a complete straight no-nonsense face. Fury stared at her for a long moment before a ghost of a smile pulled at the edge of his lips. _

_"I knew there was a reason I kept you around Hill," he said with a fond tone. _

Maria tensed as she recalled that memory - this is one hell of a leap of faith he is asking of her though. Ten years of faultless leadership against one mission with mounting evidence that he was helping the enemy. Maria took a shaky breath and steeled her eyes.

"No. I still trust you. If I don't, then I waste 10 years of my life working for a liar and I must have had _shit_ judge of character," she said through gritted teeth. She pushed herself back to her feet and spun around to pull up another screen from the HYDRA data system. She delved deeper into the their communications and walked right into a massive firewall block. She inhaled a sharp breath. _Communication scrambler codes._ All she needed was to rewrite the codes and take down the base wide signal blocker.

"I can do that - _I can do that_," Hill whispered as she stared at the computer main frame screen in shock. She could get cross com link communications back online. She just needed everyone to hold on for 5 minutes.

_She just needed 5 damn minutes. _

5 minutes in mission time was sometimes 5 minutes too late.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Meanwhile, on the lowest level in the HYDRA base a dark figure was sitting on a desk in a practically empty office with his back facing the open doorway. The man laughed darkly and shook his head.

"Clever - but I'm _more_ clever," Yago whispered as he watched a tracker signal on his tablet fade. He spun a gun in his hand as he listened to the sound bites between Director and agent die out as well.

That was just the lulling sense of security anyway.

"Sometimes you have to set something free for it to willingly come back to you," he said calmly as he looked through the files the little brunette agent in his control room was seeing. Yago's eyes darkened. The Director must think he was stupid if he believed that the files he gave him the pass codes to weren't just fakes on a proxy server that would crash when the one eyed spy wanted it to.

Yago had plans on how to get the real codes and access the _real_ alpha portion of the SHIELD data base. He heard the open door swing shut behind him and smiled.

"_Where is my partner_?" a dark voice practically breathed down his neck. Yago flipped his tablet shut calmly even as he felt an assassin loom over him with deadly intent.

Having bait also helped speed things along nicely.

"So _you're_ the infamous Widow's little bitch," Yago said with dark chuckle without turning around. He had a feeling that when he did the archer would freeze up just like his precious partner did. Yago's expression darkened - he still didn't know what they knew about him. He instantly felt the sharp edge of an arrow being shoved into the back of his head and grinned as the anger radiated off of the practically seething agent.

"Tell me where she or I'm going to make _you_ scream," Clint said with a dark aura pulsing around him. _No one_ made his partner scream and lived to tell the tale - he would see to it. Yago chuckled even as the arrow sharply scraped against his skull.

"Heard that did you? She's a lovely screamer - a bit hard to make her get off though," Yago said with a fake sigh of regret. Clint's eyes flashed. _How dare he talk about her like that?_

"If you don't start talking I'm going to start stabbing arrows through your limbs and pin you to the wall like a mutilated rag doll," Clint growled threateningly.

Yago silently placed his tablet on the table and steeled himself for the attack.

"Romanoff is dead, agent Barton - I killed her myself," he said in a bored flippant tone.

The silence that echoed in the small office was nearly _deafening_. For a few seconds all Yago heard was the harsh deep breathing of an assassin that was barely holding his shit together. If Yago was begging for a one way ticket to the after life - he just got it in spades.

"_You lying piece of shit!"_ Clint finally exploded before he literally tackled the dark haired bastard to the ground and slammed his fist into his face. They both rolled across the floor and when Barton ended up on top he glared furious daggers down at the bloody face of the last person he expected to see here in a shady HYDRA base nestled in the center of the Romanian mountains. Clint tensed as he locked eyes with a familiar half-Russian he met in Japan -_ oh the drugs were really getting to him now._

"_What the fuck?_ _Dmitri_?" Clint growled as he finally got a good look at the bastard's face. Yago's face darkened.

"That's what she said too - who the _hell_ is Dmitri?" Yago hissed. Clint's eyes flashed in barely suppressed anger - the morphine really wasn't making it easier to level out his out of control emotions.

"I don't know what type of sick game your playing you bastard - but I'm going to kill you in the most painful way imaginable if you don't start spilling your guts _right this second_," Clint demanded through gritted teeth as he roughly gripped the edge of the CIA agent lookalike's torn black shirt.

Yago stared up at the slightly glassy eyed look in the killer agent's eyes and realization finally settled into his cold calculative mind. _Jackpot_.

"She's dead Barton. There's nothing you can do now except wait for your own death to end you too," Yago whispered damningly. Clint's eyes darkened - Natasha would never go down without a fight - and the man in front of him barely looked ruffled at all. _He was a liar._

"Shut the _hell_ up. If I go down, _I'm taking you with me_," Clint hissed as he roughly shook the double crossing agent back and forth against the floor. Yago just smirked as he let himself be manhandled.

"But then you would never know if I was telling the truth or not," Yago whispered with an air of importance. Clint froze as his heart started beating rapidly. _What if he wasn't lying? What if his partner really was gone?_

_But Natasha would never be taken out by the likes of Vasil_ _Yago_ a voice echoed soothingly in his ears. That instantly renewed his conviction that his partner was still breathing no matter how much the bastard tested his sanity.

"_Fuck you_!" Clint spat before he slammed his already bloody fist into the bastard's face and broke his nose with a sickening _crack_. Yago barely winced as he face whipped to the side.

"Is that the best you got agent Barton?" Yago taunted as the blood poured down his face in a bloody mess as it got all over _both_ their uniforms. Clint's eyes hardened.

"_Where is she_?" he growled as he wrapped his hands around the chuckling mad ex-SHIELD agent's neck and _squeezed_.

"_In hell of course_," Yago croaked with a bloody grin. Clint's eyes darkened - _he was going to murder this bastard, cut him up and feed the pieces to the damn bloodthirsty wolves that were going to be the death of him. _

"I am going to ki-"

_WHAM_!

A crow bar suddenly slammed into the back of the archer's head and instantly knocked him out _cold_. Yago grunted as the archer's death grip finally loosened from his neck as the SHIELD agent collapsed to the floor like a puppet whose strings were just cut loose. Yago promptly _shoved_ the unconscious raging assassin off of him and stared up at his silent head agent standing there with the weapon of the hour sitting neatly in the palm of his hand. Yago took several breaths before he could finally make more than one syllables.

"Good work Sebastian - hit him with the stabilizer. We're taking him with us," Yago said as he spat out a mouth full of blood and gingerly rubbed the base of his neck - second choke hold today. Damn.

"Sir...he's infected," Sebastian said carefully. Yago gave his subordinate a dark look.

"All the more reason we should drag him along and prevent him from being sent back to SHIELD and getting medical treatment," he said firmly. The cautious agent paused.

"What about the other prisoners?" Sebastian asked while glancing behind him at his fellow HYDRA agents waiting for orders. Yago gave him an impatient sneer.

"They destroyed my trackers and escaped - but if they want to get out of here alive - they're going to have to leave without _him_," Yago said gesturing towards the sweating, feverish and currently unconscious archer knocked out on the floor. Yago stared at the dark haired assassin for a long moment.

"I have plans for such a dedicated soldier like you," he whispered as a sick and twisted smirk spread across his face. _They were going to have so much fun together._ Yago promptly picked up his tablet off the table and walked out of the room while shooting his head agent a pointed look.

"Pack him up - let's go. We've got a race to get a head start on," Yago said steadily as he strolled out of the office with his agents carelessly dragging an unconscious SHIELD agent behind him.

If there is one thing known for certain - it's that this move all but stamped a death wish on the double crossing agent's head.

Because if agent Barton doesn't manage to kill him _- Natasha Romanoff will_.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

_20 minutes ago. _

Natasha gasped as her eyes shot open. She was no longer arrested by her own mind trapped in a hell of her own making. She couldn't see a damn thing but she had enough sense to know she wasn't in the facility portion of the base anymore - she was lying on her side on cold stone floor staring straight into the face of a dead guy's rotting skull with cockroaches crawling in and out and all over it.

How pleasant.

"_Disgusting_," she muttered as she rolled away from the bug infested human remains. Great - if that was her fate she was going to strangle herself before the bugs got to her. She coughed as her throat went dry - it was hoarse. Like she had overused it somehow.

"Welcome back to reality agent Romanoff," a familiar gruff voice said from her right. Natasha tensed as she quickly located where the voice had come from. She spun around and came face to face with the man of the hour.

"_Director_," Natasha said breathing carefully as she eyed his beaten up and tired frame. He looked like he went a few rounds with a grizzly bear - and lost. his eye patch was barely hanging on his face, his black military shirt was torn and dirty and his rough cargo pants were no better off - _basically he looked like shit_. But he was still alive which was better then she could say for the other agents who were here with him. Well at least _something_ went right on this crap mission - she had located Fury - even if a bit by accident. However, they had a problem. She tried to move her arms away from her back- she couldn't. Damn she was cuffed _again_. Do they never learn? She slowly scanning the dark space she found herself in - it looked like a cave.

"Where are we?" Natasha asked carefully. Fury gave her a wary look.

"At the bottom of one deep-ass pit nestled at the back of a cave," he said deprecatingly while eyeing the small opening above them. Natasha glanced up as well and caught sight of a door set along a perch 50 feet above their heads. She sighed heavily - _just her luck_.

"Great. Literally stuck in a cave pit - joy," Natasha muttered under her breath. She expected a sharp retort from the Director - something along the lines of how a good agent always tried to make the best of a situation or some crap like that - but instead Fury was unnaturally quiet as he stared at the wall across from him. Natasha tensed - something wasn't right.

"What is it?" Natasha asked guardedly. He finally glanced at her with calculative eyes - he wasn't one to beat around the bush - that was what made him such a good leader. His gaze just made her uncomfortable.

"You were screaming for nearly an hour Romanoff," he just went out and _said it_. Natasha sharply looked away and clenched her hands into tight balls of tension.

_Shit_. _Shit_. _Shit_.

Damage control time.

"It was the drugs - messed with my head. Nothing I can't brush off Sir," Natasha said as firmly and as calmly as she could manage. Fury's lips thinned out into a firm line.

"I've seen them before. The drugs were short term hallucinogens - last for only 20 minutes. That wasn't drugs," Fury said carefully. _That was a triggered trauma attack_ he left unsaid out of courtesy. Natasha tensed up so fast she almost lashed out at him, but she managed to rein herself in at the last moment - she would not lose her professionalism around him. That was not an option. It was not going to happen god damn it.

"It really doesn't matter Sir," she said tightly masking her emotions and burying them deep inside her to deal with later. The drugs opened too many cans of worms for her to deal with right now. She couldn't handle the bombardment. She just ignored her internal shell shock and the unstable portion of her mind. She locked everything else away as she tightly guarding the broken pieces of her painful past to her chest. She refused to believe she was broken. She was stronger than pathetic memories - she was stronger than any pain she felt from her past. None of those memories mattered - _they were in the past_. Nothing could hurt her now. Nothing could change what has already happened. Natasha took a sharp breath as the treacherous memories flashed across her mind once more and she felt like someone just _stabbed_ her in the chest. She slammed her eyes shut and angrily banged her forehead against the cave wall trying to beat the sharp emotions attached to the memories back.

Loneliness. Despair. Helplessness. Powerlessness. Anxiety. Fear. Regret - _drowning in regret_.

None of those things applied to the Black Widow damn it. She was supposed to be a weapon - if she was a weapon she wouldn't have to feel any of those things.

That is why she swore off emotions in the first place.

_But then a god damn archer had to come along and tear the vile emotions out of her and look where it landed her! Just look what letting herself feel anything has gotten her_! Natasha bashed her head against the wall once more before she finally managed to get a grip on herself. She could feel the hundred yard stare burning into the back of her head and gritted her teeth.

"Don't even say it - I'm fine," she grounded out harshly. Fury frowned.

She was so _not_ fine it was practically written on her forehead.

"One day your walls are going to crumble agent Romanoff - what will you do then?" he asked carefully watching one of his newest agents piece herself back together. Natasha's eyes darkened as she took a deep breath and finally got a hold of herself. It was something special watching an assassin take control of themselves when they were so close to spiralling _out_ of control.

"I'll figure it out - right now we need to _get_ out. Are you injured?" she asked carefully assessing his condition. He was roughened up - but nothing looked broken. Yago must have really wanted that information badly if he wouldn't even break a bone, let alone truly screw with the Director. Fury shook his head slowly.

"Not more then you are - they don't exactly want to kill us," he said eying the nasty 5 inch slashes across her face and the messy bullet lodged into her left arm. He didn't ask her how her own injures were - she was grateful.

"Really? Could have fooled me. Were you expecting company or was me showing up just a surprise?" Natasha asked while scanning the dark cave once more. They must still be in the mountain if there was a door leading into the base.

"I wasn't really surprised when you got thrown down here - but I am surprised Barton is not here with you," Fury said warily. Natasha beat down a wince as she finally felt the bleeding bruises on her back - _that's_ why she felt like she got thrown around like she just had a round in a rodeo and lost - _badly_.

"He's around somewhere - should be losing his mind right about now," she muttered as she busied herself with flipping her cuffed arms that were tightly bound behind her back under her legs and bringing them in front of her so that she could figure out how to unlock them - she was an escape artist after all.

"How many agents are here?" Fury asked suddenly. Natasha didn't even pause in her valiant attempt to escape her bonds.

"Four. Barton, Hill, me and Coulson," Natasha replied curtly, just as they both heard the distinct click and watched her cuffs fall to the floor. Fury's expression remained deceptively neutral - she noted that he must have gotten rid of his own cuffs a while back.

"Good - I told Hill to keep everything low profile if things went a little off the mark on my end," he said with a satisfied nod. Natasha stared at her boss. Like _stared_. Fury raised an eyebrow when her staring started bordering on unprofessional and he gave her an obvious look that said - _get the fuck on with it or stop looking at me like that Romanoff. _

"If you consider this slightly off the mark Sir - I am deeply wary of what you consider a disaster," Natasha said frankly. Fury chuckled darkly.

"You're a young spy Romanoff - when you've seen enough you'll know not to be melodramatic," he said vaguely. Natasha stiffened. She _hated_ when men in power were vague - it made her want to _teach them a lesson_. But she didn't particularly want to over throw Barton's organization, so she shoved that annoying urge to the back of her head and schooled her face to be as impassive as ever.

_Fury's_ expression didn't change for a second, but she was kind of sure he noticed her internal debate - he just simply chose to let it go. Instead of dwelling on spy mind screwing games she didn't want to think too hard about she decided to defend her level of experience in the field.

"I might be young but I've seen plenty," Natasha said darkly. Fury gave her a calculative look with his one sharp eye - it made her skin crawl even when she was damn sure there was nothing on her face that could give away what she was thinking. Natasha's eyes hardened. The spy of all spies made her feel like a god damn _child_.

"I know - but you haven't quite yet seen the odder side of life," Fury said warily. Natasha finally clenched her jaw in a display of clear frustration. She had enough of this confusing her on purpose shit and got straight to the point _- sometimes she hated working with spies._

"Is it impossible to get out of here?" she asked briskly. Fury raised a single eyebrow at her slight loss of patience. Natasha practically _fumed_ on the inside - _how dare he judge her with his stupid one eye_? She thinks she might have really killed Barton if he was a real spy - she has always preferred being partnered with soldiers. They had their specialty and she had hers - it was a combination that worked well in all her partnerships. Soldiers had more discipline and played less god damn mind games with her. Unlike her annoying boss was doing _right now_.

"Sure it's possible to get out - but then there are probably about a hundred different tunnels that spread out like a labyrinth on the other side of these walls that is so easy to get lost in that people end up like our friend over there faster than you can say _motherfucking council_," Fury deadpanned as he gestured towards the dead skeleton propped up against the wall. Natasha irritably pinched the bridge of her nose. _Could this mission get any worse? _

"Anything else I should be aware of?" Natasha asked through gritted teeth. Fury's expression grew serious.

"That, and the fact that we are tagged," he said carefully holding up his wrists and showing her the blinking metal band wrapped around his wrist. Natasha glanced down and stared holes into the matching band wrapped around her _own_ hand. _Damn_.

"He's playing with us. Left us in a cave with a million tunnels and stuck a tracker on us so that he can follow us like lab rats," Natasha said angrily punching the wall beside her. Fury gave her a wary look - took her long enough to figure that out.

"Yago is a sharp military man and has a rather dark twisted sense of humour - it was one of the first things that made me wary of him," Fury said carefully as he leaned against the wall. "But he was a good agent - too well trained however. Should have seen it coming soon," he said glaring daggers into the wall across from him. Natasha watched him for a few moments with cautious eyes.

"You can't watch every corner of the world Director - you run a rather notably large organization," she said frankly - she had no reason whatsoever to kiss up to him. She didn't even _like_ him. She worked for him because she wanted to - not because she had to. They could twist the deal and have it masquerade as a life saving offer given out of the goodness of their giant American hearts - but at the end of the day they both knew she could have taken Barton out if she had truly wanted to.

But the Council didn't need to know that - there was a lot of things they were left in the dark about. Fury sighed.

"Sometimes I think it is too large to really keep track of everyone - especially from a prison in Romania," he said dryly. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Why are you still here? You're not trapped -_ not really_," she said suspiciously glancing around the cave. There had to be another exit into those tunnels - it was a damn cave. If _she_ could figure out a way to get out of here - he could have gotten out _days_ ago. Fury sighed heavily and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You've been here for what - a few hours Romanoff? Tell me you can feel just what type of organization we are dealing with here," he stated slowly. Natasha's gaze grew weary before she promptly decided she was done twiddling her thumbs and waiting for the little shit that Yago was to come down here and start monologuing at them again.

"I haven't encountered HYDRA in my past work if that's what you're asking. Whoever they are - they're not Russian - you can be sure about that," Natasha said firmly before she swiftly got to work on finding an escape - by taking off her left boot. Fury watched her as she took a seat on the ground and flipped her combat boot upside down. She had a concentrated look on her face while she messed around with the sole until something clicked and the bottom came off. A small knife, a lighter and a small explosive pack fell into the palm of her hand.

Interesting choices of hidden emergency equipment.

"Those aren't SHIELD issued boots," Fury said with a wary smile. Natasha snorted.

"Trust me they _were _once upon a time - I upgraded them," she said dryly.

"Clever - but do you have an idea of how you're going to use those to get us out?" he asked calmly. Natasha glanced back at the cave walls.

"There is an exit," Natasha said touching the wall cautiously feeling around. Fury raised an eyebrow.

"How can you be sure? Just because there are tunnels doesn't mean they lead anywhere. You do realize that if you're wrong Romanoff - we'll be trapped down here forever - or until we die of starvation that is. Forever is not quite that long," Fury said with a knowing look on his face. Natasha gave him a careful look in return.

"There is wind and these are natural caves - they must have a starting point from the outside," she said confidently.

"And how about the fact that we're sealed in," he said gesturing to the cave walls around them.

"Explosive?" she said blankly holding up the little patch of grey in her hand. _What was he doing?  
_

"Booby-trapped trackers?" he asked holding up his wrist for her to see.

Natasha paused in her reply as she finally noticed the amusement dancing in his eyes. She sharply narrowed her own and instantly stiffened in place.

"_You're testing me,"_ she said rigidly clenching her hands into fist at her sides. _What the hell_? Fury gave her a ghost of a smile.

"Whatever do you mean agent Romanoff?" he asked calmly. Natasha scowled darkly. Why would he use a time like this to test her loyalty damn it?

"I don't know what to do about the trackers," she muttered reluctantly as she glared at the flashy metal band wrapped around her wrist. She'd gnaw her own arm off before she let Yago follow them on his stupid little laptop and treat her like a lab rat. Her eyes darkened - she has been a lab rat long enough in her life that she'd prefer death. Fury read the disturbing thoughts on her face loud and clear and shook his head.

"Stop thinking about self cannibalism Romanoff - we're not that desperate yet. You have a lighter right?" he asked eying her uniform pocket. Natasha paused as she glanced back down at the annoying wrist band.

"You want to melt the sucker until it stops functioning?" she asked skeptically. That was _barbaric_. Fury raised an eyebrow.

"Just hand me the lighter Romanoff," he said calmly. Natasha huffed as she fished out the small lighter and tossed it to him.

"_Barbaric_," she muttered out loud. Fury snorted.

"I highly doubt you came from a pampered past life Romanoff - Barton might not know, but _I_ know your file," he said steadily. Natasha tightened her jaw but didn't react more than that.

"Not everything is written in my file - I've read it," she said carefully. There were things about her that even SHIELD would never know - they only knew the barest details of her past assignments. Fury clenched his hand into a tight fist as he held the flame over where he was fairly certain the memory chip was embedded in the tracker.

"Not everything written in it is accessible to all agents," he shot back as they watched the tracker wristband smoke and spark as the flame destroyed the device and burned his skin - he didn't make sound.

"I've read the classified half too," she said evenly. She was not naive enough to think he didn't catch her security breech - every hacking always leaves a trace.

"Clever again - but still insubordination," he said giving her a pointed look. Natasha sighed in defeat.

"Director - if we don't get out of here it won't even matter if you want to reprimand me for something you already knew," she said watching the shadows on the cave wall they were still stuck in. She heard the telltale _crack_ and watched the metal band fall to the floor from his wrist.

"Then hurry up with some tracker bashing Romanoff - we have agents to find and a rogue SHIELD commander to apprehend," he stiffly throwing the lighter back at her. Natasha caught it easily as she continued to try and get a read on him - it was impossible - he had the best poker face in the business. It made her _itch_ to get one over him somehow.

"What did you learn from captivity Director? What was the point?" she asked carefully lighting her lighter and holding the flame to her wrist. She gritted her teeth as the fire cracked the metal and glass and licked at her bruised wrist until it looked all purple and blue and just nasty - _oh Barton was going to flip his shit._ She could practically _feel_ the impending freak out he'd have when they were finally alone and he assessed her medical status head to toe himself. She'd give him the death stare but she was sure he would continue to not so silently fume on her behalf anyway. She glanced away from her self-inflicted wounds and watched a shadow cross over her boss' serious face.

"You can learn a lot from a person just but how they react in a stressful situation or when emotions are running high - but I'm sure you know that," he said carefully giving her a calculative look. Natasha glanced back down to her damaged wrist and watched the metal crack and fall to the ground. She still felt his stare burning into her skull - he has never underestimate anyone once in his entire life.

"He's doing human to animal cross conscious experiments for HYDRA," she said flatly. That was all she had time to get out of him before everything went to shit with the drugs.

"That was the easy to digest part," Fury said gruffly. Natasha paused.

"What's the not easy to handle part?" she asked carefully. Fury stared at her for a long moment - she felt like this was one big assessment.

"I'm fairly certain his experiments _work_," he said damningly. Natasha took 5 seconds to guess their odds and didn't even waste another second before she sprung into action. She didn't doubt her partner's uncanny ability to always stumble upon the worse possible situation _imaginable_.

"We need to find Barton," she said stiffly turning away from him and feeling the walls of the cave with renewed focus. Fury raised an eyebrow at her sudden shift.

"Why the sudden concern for your partner agent Romanoff?" he asked cautiously. Natasha paused as she found a specific space on the wall she liked and she pressed against it.

"_Sir_, I have never met a man in my life with _shittier_ luck, then agent Barton," she said darkly before she _slammed_ her emergency explosive patch against the weakest point in the wall. He willingly hangs around someone like _her_ after all - how much more dangerous can your everyday life get right?

"You should read his track record - it makes Coulson literally start to twitch when he thinks about it," Fury said blandly as he watched her work. Natasha's eyes darkened. Oh - she _knew_.

"I have - it makes me want to slap him for being a pathologically reckless sniper. The fact that he is still alive astounds me. Step back," she ordered tightly as she lit the explosive with the lighter with simmering anger flashing in her eyes.

She was going to _kick_ her partner's ass if he ended up dead trying to _save_ her - no matter how it made her feel weird things deep inside, she didn't _need_ it. She has never needed saving in her life - she wasn't about to start now no matter _how_ mentally unstable a part of her brain may be. She'll deal with that part later.

_BOOM!_

In the end she's probably going to have to save _him_.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Mission finale next chapter! WOO!**

**Oh poor drugged, infected, battered, bruised and now concussed Barton - he got archer-napped. REREAD the Yago scene and it's makes a lot more sense the second time after reading the Natasha/Fury cave pit scene. (It was me messing with your heads putting that scene out of chronological order.) **

**Sadly I won't be able to update tomorrow on my birthday like I wanted to because of family things I must do - but today is close enough! **

**Here's a treat though! **

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**Preview for chapter 100: **_

_"I tore down the communication scramblers! Does anyone copy?" Maria shouted into her com with gunfire in the background and the sounds of rocks crashing down around her as she ran for her life._

_3 agents instantly froze as they all finally got reconnected to the communicator line that had been dead for over an hour. _

_"I copy - what's going on Hill?" Coulson replied instantly. Two other agents unfroze._

_"Romanoff here - I have Fury," Natasha reported in immediately touching her com in her ear with her hand. Hill sighed in relief. _

_"Well thank god cause we need to leave right now. Barton, where are you and your drugged ass?" Maria asked as she ducked out of the hall that was fall apart around her at neck breaking speeds. _

_Silence. _

_"Barton?" Maria called out with rising dread as she flew down the hall. _

_"He got drugged too?" Natasha asked in dark voice as anger flashed across her eyes. _

_Vasil Yago is a dead man and his executioner is going to be an ex-Russian assassin. _

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

**A/N: Well that will be one insane and interesting chapter. See you all after my birthday. Bye! You guys can wait for assassins reuniting, evil HYDRA agents being taken down, epic chase scene, Fury being a badass and other boring stuff like that right? lol.  
**


	100. Chapter 100

**I dare you**

**A/N: Honestly...Yago needs to die...someone needs to fire a bullet through his head. XD He just keep torturing all our SHIELD agents and he'll keep torturing them until they teach him a lesson.**

**BUT HE IS SUCH A BADASS VILLAIN. AHHHH! Still needs to die though. Meh.**

**THIS IS THE MOST SUSPENSEFUL CHAPTER I EVER WROTE IN MY LIFE! **

**Let me prove it to you.**

.

.

**Chapter 100 (TRIPLE DIGIT CHAPTER WOO milestone!)**

Yago stood at the mouth of the disguised exit leading out of the base and the entire mountain range with an small army of HYDRA agents slipping into a row of 10 massive black SUVs lined up at the exit of the long and dark underground tunnel. He silently clasped his hands behind his back as he watched a pair of agents drag forward a lump of that was black and red and had a mop of brown hair.

"_Sir_?" one of the agents asked as he carelessly held up the unconscious feverish prisoner by the scruff of his bloody and torn SHIELD uniform. Yago stared at the sagging SHIELD archer for a long moment before glancing away.

"You know what to do with him," Yago said calmly gesturing towards the car at the front of the SUV line of escape vehicles. The agents restraining the knocked out prisoner nodded obediently before they dragged the enemy off towards the front of the tunnel exit.

"Don't forget the duct tape," Yago called out from behind them. He felt a dark presence appear beside him and he knew his head agent was waiting for orders on how to proceed from here.

They were finally ready to blow this compromised base - _but he had one last move to make_.

"Play the Mozart symphony Sebastian," Yago said with a serene expression in his face. Sebastian pressed a button on a small black remote control in his hand and they both heard the distinct blast of deep vibrating orchestra music booming through the speakers all around them. Yago closed his eyes and smiled sinisterly.

"_Mike_," he said holding his hand out. His head agent silently placed a small black microphone into his boss' waiting hand. Yago tapped the mike and cleared his throat.

"Good evening SHIELD agents still stuck in my base. You've all decided to come into my home uninvited and I'm kind enough to let you stay - for as _long_ as you want. I'm so kind in fact, that I'll even let you know that when the music stops - you get to stay here _forever,_ " Yago said with disturbing smirk before he abruptly clicked the mike off.

"Set the charges - we're going to bury anyone left inside," Yago said calmly as he tossed the mike over his shoulder.

_Show time._

.

.

.

.

.

_2 minutes ago. _

Agent Hill was seconds away from disabling the communicator scramblers when the sound of classical music started floating into the air around the severely stressed SHIELD agent.

"What the _hell_ is that?" she muttered under her breath as she flew through the communication blocks. She froze as the intercom system suddenly turned on and a familiar voice echoed down every hall of the secret HYDRA base.

_"Good evening SHIELD agents still stuck in my base. You've all decided to come into my home uninvited and I'm kind enough to let you stay - for as long as you want. I'm so kind in fact, that I'll even let you know that when the music stops - you get to stay here forever_, " the voice over the base wide intercom said ominously before the transmission instantly cut off. Maria rapidly unfroze and finished her hacking at twice the speed before she slammed her hand down on the enter key.

_Bing_.

She watched as the communication barriers started to crumble right before her eyes with Mozart echoing in her ears. Maria felt the entire foundation of the base start to shake beneath her feet.

She needed to find everyone.

She needed to find them _now_.

"1 minute to get out. _1 minute to get out_," she whispered before she backed away from the control board and started sprinting for her life.

_God damn it she hoped she was the only one left in this cursed base._

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

_10 minutes ago. _

Meanwhile Natasha and Fury were cautiously making their way down one of the many tunnels that Fury mentioned they would encounter once they got out of the cave pit. The problem was that they had been walking for a full ten minutes and there was still no exit in sight.

Fury was just silently going with the flow - but _Natasha_ was starting to get seriously pissed by the sheer number of tunnels that made up the underground portion of this place.

"How are you sure you are going the right way Romanoff?" Fury asked as he followed her lead keeping close to the cool wall and carefully feeling their way through the pitch black tunnels. Natasha furrowed her brow in concentration as she picked and chose which turns to take and which to avoid.

"Trust me - I know," Natasha muttered thoroughly focused on getting them through this as fast as possible. She needed to get out of here. She needed to get _Fury_ out of here. But more importantly she needed to find Barton - she had the worse twisted feeling in her gut _imaginable _and it was driving her crazy. That _man_ drove her crazy - it was unhealthy the amount of shit he always managed to get himself into.

"Some 6th sense guiding you Romanoff?" Fury asked warily. Natasha inhaled a sharp breath - if he would just _stop talking_ she could do this faster and in peace. She had enhancers for a _reason_.

"_Director_, I mean no disrespect whatsoever. However, if you don't stop trying to rile me up -_ I will make you regret it,_" Natasha said stiffly. Fury's eyebrow practically _soared_ up in amusement. Feisty assassins were always fun.

_When was the last time an agent other then Hill made a smart comment at him?_

It has been too long.

"Threatening your superiors is insubordination agent Romanoff," he said airily. Natasha scowled darkly.

"I'm finding it very difficult to care right now," she muttered. Fury stared at her with a peculiar glint in his one good eye.

"I wonder how your past handlers handled a sharp mouth like yours," he said warily. Natasha instantly stiffened - but she kept moving.

"I didn't have a sharp mouth while working for the Red Room...one wrong word and you would be shot dead in your sleep," she said bitterly. There was no space for insubordination unless you wanted a painful and drawn out death. Fury gave her a careful look.

"SHIELD is not like that - I go to great pains to make sure anyone who works here is here by choice," he said seriously. Natasha _stared_ at him - he was a hypocrite.

"Barton gave me a rather definite choice - death by the enemy or join the enemy," Natasha said tensely. Fury let her see the slight grimace on his aged face.

"You didn't enlist with SHIELD in the most orthodox manner Romanoff...," he said quietly. _You were the enemy - the protocol for you is sadly much different and generally uncharted territory. _Natasha knew what he meant and looked away. Most targets are not as likely to switch sides like she did. She sighed heavily but still kept moving.

"I know - that's why you still don't trust me," she muttered under her breath. Fury shook his head slowly.

"Give us a reason to trust you agent Romanoff. I don't believe you even trusted agent Barton until he thoroughly deserved it - am I right?" he pressed. Natasha instantly tensed. Trust between her and her partner was a sketchy unstable bond that was only theirs to worry about and no one else's business or job to dissect - _she wouldn't let them_. She wouldn't let _anyone_ at SHIELD touch the one bond she chose to make under no one else's orders but her own.

He was _her_ choice - the one choice she ever made for herself.

"What is your point?" she asked guardedly. Regardless of where they were _now_ - it took her months to even be able to _sleep_ at night with Barton in the next room. He was her god damn assassin - how the hell was she supposed to sleep with him right there?

But at the same time another part of her brain said -_ can you even sleep without him now_?

Natasha mentally cocked her gun, clicked off the safety, aimed and brutally _shot down_ that part of her brain like a damn firing squad.

She hated her treacherous brain sometimes - it was so _unhelpful_.

She shook herself out of her usual mental suicidal tendencies and glanced back at her boss who was staring at her again with an odd look in his eyes. Damn she really hated working for a spy.

"The point is that we deserve the same courtesy. Give us time and give us a reason Romanoff - then we'll grow to trust you," Fury said seriously. Natasha finally paused in her pace and took a careful breath.

"I haven't given you a reason _not_ to trust me yet," she said cautiously. Fury nodded - he's been watching their mission progression over the last few months. Natasha knows this - she _knows_ Barton and her are always being monitored and evaluated after every mission.

"I know. Finish this mission with success and you'll be on the right track," he said evenly. Natasha took another deep breath.

"You take a lot of chances most people wouldn't Sir," she said taking a shot into the dark and giving him a steady look. Fury's face grew weary.

"If you don't take chances you might just lose the best opportunities in the world Romanoff," Fury replied calmly. Natasha sharply looked away.

"If you were anyone else - Barton and I would be dead or on the run," Natasha said point blank. _Most likely on the run for at least a few years_. She had expected to be taken out eventually anyway. She might be one of the best assassins in the world - but you can only run for so long until some crack shot gets lucky. She had expected Barton to be tried for treason and shot down by his own people. She had expected a lot of things - _but_ _nothing that happened was what she expected._

She didn't expect a one eyed man in a dark suit to walk into her cell after 3 weeks of interrogations orchestrated by nearly 10 different senior SHIELD agents and give her a second chance at her life. That same man now had a look on his face that said he knew what she was thinking.

"Trust me - you're much more useful alive and on _my_ side Romanoff," Fury said a knowing smile. _Better than watching you break out of my base and wreck havoc in the world under someone else's orders_. Natasha quietly looked away from the head of one of the most powerful and the most secretive intelligence agencies in the world and took several more deep breaths - _she was still here working with Barton because of him_.

Fury wasn't afraid to take chance others in his same position would be too closed-minded to take.

Sometimes she could see why he was such a good leader. She turned down yet another dark tunnel and then stopped walking as she stared at the light pouring down the hall at the end of the tunnel. She glanced back at her boss and gave him a weak smile.

"I told you there was an exit," Natasha said with the slightest hint of smugness in her voice. Fury raised an eyebrow at his self-satisfied looking agent.

"I didn't exactly say I didn't believe you," he said warily. Natasha huffed -_ again with the mind screwing._ No matter _what_ he did for her - she still wouldn't like him. She _refused_ to like her boss - there was some unwritten rule about how spies were meant to hate authority figures. She was going to live up to that myth until her dying breath.

"_Your face...,"_ she started to say - but then the rest was unintelligible nonsense muttered under her breath. Fury gave her a wary look as he passed her and went ahead to look through the opening.

"You want to finish that sentence agent?" he asked dryly. Natasha's expression darkened from behind him.

"You want to hear it?" she shot back. Fury was about to give a sarcastic reply when he took a peek through the opening and paused. Natasha watched the calculative thoughts flash across his usually neutral face.

"You want to look up Romanoff...?" Fury said cautiously taking a step back. Natasha paused as she stepped up to the edge of tunnel exit as well and poked her head through the gap.

"_Shit_," Natasha cursed as she grabbed the wall and stared up at the 50 foot climb to the _tiny_ opening at the top of the deep well-like exit they found themselves in.

"_Great_ natural exit Romanoff," he said dryly. Natasha clenched her hands into fists and seethed silently - if he was anyone else but her boss she had a few choice words like...

_Shut the fuck up you little one eyed fucker who doesn't know how to say anything that is not half wrapped in damn shadowy secrets and mysterious shit. _Deep breath Natasha.

On the outside she remained deceptively aloof and simply twitched.

She didn't fool shit though.

"Whatever you're thinking - I bet it's colourful," Fury said with a sly smirk. Natasha scowled at him before she promptly grabbed onto the cool stoned wall and started climbing up the well without a second thought. He could stay and _rot_ down here in this hellhole for all she cared.

"Escaping before your boss - how rude," Fury said with a theatrical sigh as he calmly followed behind her. Natasha respectfully ignored him because anything she said in the next 5 minutes would be _rude as hell_. She finally paused in her brutal pace when an odd string of sound caught her attention. Natasha titled her head to the side and looked back down at their nasty 30 foot fall.

"Do you hear that?" she asked slowly. Fury glanced back down as well and narrowed his eyes.

"You mean the music?" he asked carefully. It sounded like freaking Mozart - _why would there be Mozart music at the bottom of a cave under a mountain? _

"What the hell does that mean?" Natasha asked guardedly.

They both tensed when the ground started to tremble beneath their grasp on the stone wall.

"It means...Yago is being a little bitch," Fury deadpanned. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"We need to hurry," she said as she swiftly picked up the pace. Fury took a deep breath as he easily matched her speed.

"Romanoff - going back in would be suicide," Fury said carefully. Natasha stiffened.

"Director - if he is in there I'm going in with or without you," Natasha said steadily. She would point him towards Coulson -but that was about it. She had other priorities. Fury carefully shook his head.

"But you don't know if he got himself out or not Romanoff," Fury shot back warningly. They had no communication whatsoever with anyone on this mission right now. Natasha gripped the stone wall under her fingerless gloves and took several deep breaths.

"You need that bastard Yago for interrogation Director," Natasha started evenly. "But if he gets even one foot near my partner with a surgical scalpel and a mind full of nasty scientific thoughts - _you will have to kill me before_ _I end_ _him_," Natasha said menacingly. Fury frowned - he wasn't surprised however - all agents got like this when their partners were literally face to face with near certain death.

"We're almost out of here - we'll find him," Fury said cautiously.

Natasha gritted her teeth as the shaking and the music both got louder to the point that she felt she might just fall due to the vibrations. She was about to tell him he was lying to her when static suddenly started buzzing in her ear - she froze when a burst of explosion sounds echoed through her previously dead com link.

"_I tore down the communication scramblers! Does anyone copy?"_ Maria Hill's voice suddenly shouted into Natasha's ear with gunfire in the background and the sounds of rocks crashing down around her as she ran for her life.

3 agents in completely different locations instantly froze as they all finally got reconnected to the communicator line that had been dead for over an hour.

"I copy - what's going on Hill?" Coulson replied on the spot from his end of the line. Natasha immediately started climbing faster and shot Fury a pointed look - he understood instantly.

"Romanoff here - I have Fury," Natasha reported in as she touched her com in her ear. Hill sighed in relief.

"Well thank _god_ because we need to leave _right now_. Barton, where are you and your drugged ass?" Maria asked as she ducked out of the hall that was fall apart around her at neck breaking speeds.

_Silence_.

"Barton?" Maria called out with rising dread in her voice as she flew down the hall. Natasha's head started filling with the hundreds of possibilities of what could have happened to her partner in the time span between their last contact and now.

"_He got drugged too_?" Natasha asked in a dark voice as anger flashed across her eyes.

_If Vasil Yago touched her partner..._

_He was a dead man and his executioner is going to be an ex-Russian assassin. _

"By the enemy? No idea - but he's on morphine right now because he got fucking _bite_ by viral wolves so he is messed up and definitely off his game," Maria said seriously as she ran back down the hall towards their original entry point. She was _almost_ there - just a few more hallways.

"_You gave an infected archer morphine_?" Natasha bellowed - she had to focus on something that wasn't her partner dying from a vicious volatile virus coursing through his veins. Maria huffed as she banged into a wall due to all the shaking of the unstable foundation around her.

"It's wasn't exactly a choice on _my_ end!" she hissed as she avoided another piece of the ceiling falling right on top of her. Natasha's eyes darkened.

"His aim will be _shit_ if his brain is clouded with morphine," Natasha growled. Maria narrowed her own eyes.

"Don't underestimate your own partner Romanoff - he is still a crack shot even while drugged," Maria said steadily. He hit all his targets in the control room with perfect aim and did not once accidentally hit her. Natasha stiffened but didn't refute her - sometimes she took her partner's skills for granted - but that wasn't Hill's place to butt in.

"Romanoff - there is a tracker in his ear piece. His com is obviously dead but the tracker is not," Coulson said as he carefully inserted himself into the conversation. Natasha paused in her righteously pissed mode and stared up at the 10 feet they had left to climb to reach ground level. She glanced at her boss as he silently listened to their rapid-fire communication overload.

"You and your god damn need to tag Barton wherever he goes is going to get you an arrow stabbed through your head Coulson," Natasha said warningly as she continued climbing with the Director hot on her heels. Coulson snorted.

"It's the only thing that lets me sleep at night Romanoff - and don't tell me you're honestly complaining right now," Coulson said carefully. Natasha scoffed.

"You're a nosy handler," she muttered. Coulson made a face.

"At least I don't put a camera on him," he said dryly. Natasha paused.

"If you did that, he'd actually kill you," she said carefully.

"You mean _you'd_ try to kill me Romanoff," he said cautiously. There were things in Barton's life he didn't want to see - and it wasn't his messy assassinations. Natasha shook her head.

"There is no _try_ Coulson," she said guardedly. If she wanted him dead - he'd be dead a long time ago. But Barton liked him - hell, their handler was his only friend. Natasha may bluff and threaten to her heart's content but she would never touch him. Never. Whoever took down Phil Coulson would be on Barton's personal shit list for the rest of their lives - or until he get his hands on them.

That wasn't going to be her.

"He's outside...but he's moving fast," Coulson said uncertainly staring at the screen in front of him. _What the hell?_ Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"_How_ fast?" she asked as she almost reached the high opening. Coulson took a deep breath.

"He's...he's moving 80 miles an hour," he said tightly. Natasha tensed - _oh_ _shit._

"They're on wheels. They're going to haul his stupid ass out of here with them," she said angrily under her breath as she finally grabbed onto what felt like cool stone and clenched her teeth as she hauled herself out of a damn ancient _well_.

"I know Romanoff - but what can we _do_?" Coulson asked while trying to keep the tension out of his voice - he failed miserably. Natasha was well passed calm and simply came to terms with the fact that she would be teeming with adrenaline and tension until she laid eyes on her partner - and made sure he was still breathing.

"How the hell are we supposed to find him from where we are? We don't even _know_ where we are!" Natasha exclaimed in frustration as she swung her feet over the edge of the well and finally landed on solid ground. She was back on forest floor and she can't _believe_ she had missed it dearly. Anything was better than being stuck in a prison cave 50 feet below the surface.

"Hand me the com Romanoff," Fury said steadily as he landed on the space beside her. Natasha paused as she glanced at her calm looking boss - _damn she hated his forever calm face sometimes._

"Trust me - I have an idea," he said calmly holding out his hand to her. Natasha stared at him for several tense seconds before she tugged the communicator out of her ear and passed it to him. Fury swiftly stuck the com into his own ear and gestured for her to start walking - they needed to get as far away from this exit as possible.

"Coulson do you have a _good_ lock on his signal?" Fury asked as he and Romanoff quickly made their way through the forest at a brisk pace.

"Yes - very good now that he is out of the damn base. They are about half a mile away from the base of the mountain. And welcome back Sir," Coulson said evenly. Fury smile wryly.

"Great day to be busted out of prison Coulson. And if you have a tracker on Barton's com I bet ten bucks you have one in this one too," Fury said with a flat blank expression. Natasha instantly froze.

_Cricket...cricket...cricket..._

That was Natasha's com link.

Nobody in their right mind would fess up to something like that - that would be suicide.

"_I fear death Director_," Coulson said warily. Fury would have laughed at his agents if the situation wasn't so dire.

"She won't kill you if it helps us get to Barton," Fury said confidently. Natasha scowled darkly beside him but didn't say a word. Oh she would be having words with their handler - _later_. Once they all got out of here alive. Coulson sighed heavily and gave up trying to save himself.

"They are less than half a mile from your current location. If you keep running south you'll hit a hidden dirt road and they'll pass you in 3 minutes," Coulson said as he pulled up a fresh satellite visual and stared at the black cars racing through the Romanian forest. Fury nodded with a satisfied expression.

"Thank you Coulson - you're paranoia induced actions due to agent Barton's uncanny ability to land himself in unbelievable situations is about to save his life," Fury said slowly giving Natasha a pointed look. _Your concerned handler is your god damn saviour._ She simply huffed in response.

"They are in a _car_ - how the hell are we supposed to stop them without any weapons whatsoever?" Natasha asked stiffly running beside him. Fury sighed.

"The more important question is how we are going to get into their cars in the _first_ place?" Fury asked carefully. Natasha paused as a sudden memory echoed in her mind.

_I __like__ being in the air – for a second you can pretend that nothing on earth can hold you down and all the shit that you carry around is lifted off your shoulders for a moment._

He always liked heights - and for good reasons sometimes.

"We need height," Natasha said as she looked up at the tall trees surrounding them that lined up along the small dirt road running through the forest they had just reached. Fury chuckled lowly as he stopped beside her - she was good.

"Jump them like a pack of rabid baboons in a tiny Safari zoo?" he asked warily. Natasha gave him a _long_ look.

"I can see where Barton learned half his terrible jokes from - _from terrible company,"_ she muttered before she promptly spun around and started climbing up a tree and getting into position. Fury snorted as he swiftly climbed up behind her. They both carefully inched across the branch extending out over the road and gripped the bark tightly as they waited for the cars to pass and give them the perfect opportunity to strike.

"Even after all these months working with a man like him, he hasn't managed to warm you up at all has he? You're still as cold and aloof as ever Romanoff," Fury said rather curiously. Natasha nearly fell _right out_ of the tree at his abrupt comment.

Oh she was _definitely_ not the same.

"Maybe I just don't change that fast...," she muttered completely lying through her teeth. Or maybe it's the Black Widow who has just not changed one bit - she'll always be the Widow during missions. But it's the girl underneath the assassin persona who has practically become a new person. Or more likely this was the first time in her life she had finally figured out who Natasha _was_ under all the perfected masks. Even if she didn't believe it at first - Barton had managed to see something in her that was worth putting his arrow down for.

For that reason she will forever be indebted to him.

"_Ahhhhhhhhhhh_!" someone suddenly cried out from the com link.

"Maria are you okay?" Coulson asked in alarm.

"Oh don't mind me, I'm just trying not to be buried alive over here while you all fuse over our missing archer," Maria shouted irritably racing down a hall that was _literally collapsing in on itself behind her._

"How far are you from an exit Agent Hill?" Fury asked carefully. They all listened to Hill's battered breath as she continued to run for her life.

"Not far- _oh shit_!" Maria shouted before they all heard a gigantic _crash_ followed by a series of explosions that nearly short-circuited the volume on their communicators.

_BOOM!_

_BOOM!_

_BOOM!_

"_Maria_?" Coulson asked in alarm.

"_I'm...alive_," she gasped as she rolled away from the edge of the lookout post still littered with Natasha's handiwork. The entire base had literally caved in on itself behind her - if she hadn't dived though the hole she had made when she got in there with Barton _right that second_ she would've died buried under all the rubble. She heard Coulson sigh in relief as he leaned his forehead against the control panel in front of him. _She was going to give him a heart attack one day._

"When was the last time we did a mission like this again?" Coulson asked warily. Maria scowled.

"Just _shut up_ Coulson and have a water bottle waiting for me," Maria muttered as she pushed herself off the ground and started making her way back down the mountain side using Barton's forgotten makeshift grapping rope. Their half of the mission was done.

But back on another portion of the forest a mile or two away Director and agent were stiffly sitting in a tree side by side as they prepared to save one important and valuable SHIELD agent's ass and apprehend another ex-agent so that SHIELD could interrogate the shit out of him.

"Which car has Barton in it Coulson?" Fury asked steadily interrupting his and Agent Hill's conversation. Coulson's face instantly darkened.

"Should be the first one - it's at least 15 meters ahead of all the rest," Coulson replied carefully. Fury nodded and turned to look at the dead silent Russian assassin sitting beside him.

"Romanoff...you are going to jump onto the first car with Barton - and I'm going to take the second one," Fury said in a _no arguments_ tone. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"_Why_?" Natasha asked as she watched the fast approaching cars come closer at a roaring speed. She was itching to get her hands on that HYDRA bastard - but she needed to get to Barton more.

_He could be dying right now._

He more than likely already was.

"We need Yago - alive and in custody," Fury said carefully. Natasha's eyes darkened. _Oh the things she would do to that bastard if they gave her a knife and left him in a room alone with her for just 3 hours. She just needed 3 hours to put her Red Room training to good use and drive that little piece of shit insane._

"And you don't want me to handle him because you think I'll turn him into bloody pile of dog shit," she said flatly. There was no beating around the bush with that one. She wasn't even going to _try_ and hide what she wanted to do to that bastard. Fury's face grew serious.

"Romanoff -he tortured you for nearly an hour and a half if you include the screaming incident in the cave. He also got your partner infected and on the verge of dying before this mission is even over - you are well passed compromised with this target," Fury said firmly. Natasha leaned against the tree as they watched the cars approach and took a deep breath.

"The sad thing is - I can't fault you on a single accusation," she said quietly. Fury sighed knowingly.

"I feel like you don't regret it," he said warily. Natasha's eyes hardened.

"Director, if I get my hands on that bastard - I will rip him to shreds, turn him entire body inside out until he bleeds all over the floor and destroy his mind slowly and agonizingly one stab at a time," Natasha vowed threateningly. Fury frowned as he watched the dark thoughts flicker in her eyes - _oh she was very serious about following through with her idea of retribution_. He decided to compromise because outright refusal wouldn't sit well with an agent like Romanoff.

"When we're done with him - you can take him out with a _single_ bullet - nothing more and nothing less. Mindless bloodshed and necessitated bloodshed is the only thing that separates us from serial killers Romanoff," he said warningly. Natasha smiled darkly.

"I _am_ a serial killer," she said unapologetically. Fury shook his head slowly. She was wrong - he's met many serial killers in his day - she didn't quite fit the bill. She _could_ be one - but she still had enough of her humanity left in her that she could be talked out of killing someone if they had the right arguments.

Serial killers are murderers who kill without reason.

Natasha Romanoff had always ruled her actions with reason.

"Not if you work for SHIELD Romanoff," he said firmly. Natasha's expression remained deceptively calm.

"So what am I if I work for SHIELD?" she asked calmly.

"A highly functioning psychopath," Fury said with the best poker face in the world. Natasha sat there in utter _shock_ - even if none of it registered on her own poker face.

"Oh, _well that is so much more flattering_," she said sarcastically.

"You take what you can get Romanoff," Fury said with a shrug. He was a man who ran an organization full of agents of all walks of life - he had no time to butter up his words. Natasha scowled but firmly steeled her eyes as she saw the several rows of car approach from 20 meters away from them.

"They're almost here," Natasha muttered under her breath. Fury nodded.

"Ready?" he asked steadily. She clenched her jaw - it was now or never.

"I'm always ready to kick Barton's ass," Natasha said as she tightly gripped the edge of the branch and prepared to launch herself onto the car with her partner held captive in it.

_No one was allowed to kill Clint Barton except for Natasha Romanoff. _

_No one._

He was her partner. He was her responsibility. He was her assassin in another time. He was her equal_. _

_He was hers._  
.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The first thing Barton felt when he finally graced the world with his conscious mind was that he could not move. _A. Single. Thing_. Not his hands. Not his feet. Not even his knees. Clint fearfully opened his eyes to take in his current predication.

He was strapped with tight ropes and duct tape dead center in the driver's seat of an unfamiliar car.

And apparently he was the only one in this mysteriously empty car.

He took a deep breath.

"_Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh_!" he screamed in horror as he grabbed onto the steering wheel tighter and nearly rammed the entire car into a tree.

"_What the hell is going on_?" Clint shouted in alarm as he tried to _slam_ his foot on the brakes.

He was strapped to the front seat of a car with his hands duck taped to a steering wheel and _there were no brakes._

_Oh dear god just strike lightning and kill me now._ Clint thought depressingly.

Unfortunately the god of lightning apparently was not currently listening to the sad thoughts of an distressed archer - probably won't even notice agent Barton existed for at least another 8 years.

"Someone please just shoot me now," Clint pleaded to himself. He tensed when something large hit the roof of his car. He paled.

"_I didn't mean that literally_!" he cried out in anger. He braced himself for whatever was about to attack him when the passenger seat window started automatically lowering itself. Clint's eye twitched.

"Oh great it's a damn haunted car," he muttered under his breath as he tried to use his teeth to rip the duct tape off his hands. He paused when a pair of familiar boots entered through the passenger window along with the rest of a body he was getting to know fairly well due to all the discreet staring he had been doing over the last 10 months.

When he saw the red hair he knew his pride was just about to jump off an bridge and die.

"Hey handsome damsel in distress," Natasha said as she slid into the passenger seat with all the grace in the world. Clint stared at his calm and collected looking partner for_ 3 whole seconds_.

Where the _hell_ has she _been_?

"_Fuck you_!" Clint hissed at her as he promptly yanked the wheel to the left just in time to avoid another tree in his race to stay alive as the road curved left as well. Natasha simply stared at him - well someone was on a short temper.

"_That's_ the first thing you say to me when I come to your rescue Barton?" she asked dryly. Clint gave her a dirty scowl.

"_Rescue_? I thought you were _dead_!" he growled angrily. Natasha raised an eyebrow that clearly said - _really_? _You believed the enemy? The one that managed to even fool the best of SHIELD for 2 years?  
_  
"Well apparently Russians don't like to _stay_ dead," she deadpanned. Clint's eyes practically spat fire at her. Natasha watched him fume with a raised eyebrow.

"I got knocked out with a crow bar to the head, woke up with a massive concussion and now I'm strapped to a steering wheel in a car moving at 80 miles an hour!" he exclaimed in sheer frustration clearly mapped out across his bruised and tired face. Natasha sighed and easily grabbed onto the ceiling handle as he made another sharp turn as the road changed directions again.

"Always lovely to see you too Barton - now let's stop this shit show before you crash into something and we both die," she said gruffly flipping out her small emergency knife and getting to work on cutting through all the ropes wrapped around his neck and his waist. She worked fast and efficiently like always. She had to work her way down to the duct tape strapping his thighs to the seat and binding his hands to the steering wheel.

_They had really thoroughly strapped him in to die. _

Clint held his tongue as he watched her silently free him from his binds. He took in her ripped uniform and could smell the blood, dirt and who _knows_ what else caked onto her suit. Her hair brushed against his face and even though it smelled like _rotting death_ he could make out the barest hint of _Natasha_ underneath all the gag worthy shit. He sighed in relief as she finally got his neck free and the rope fell into his lap to reveal angry red lines running along his neck.

"You're an idiot," she chided quietly. She paused at his head as she brushed his bloody hair to the side and took one good look at the massive swollen bump on the side of his head. Clint winced as she touched it gently. It hurt like _hell_ - he didn't even know which one of them was hurting more at this point.

"You look like shit," Clint muttered as he leaned into her touch no matter how much it hurt. He didn't think he would ever get to feel her ever again.

"You look like shit too," she shot back without missing a beat. He looked like he got ran over by a truck and then attack by rabid squirrels. Clint eyed the large nasty cuts on her face and his eyes darkened.

"_I'm going to kill him_," he growled under his breath. Natasha instantly pulled back like she had been burned and stared at him dead in the eye.

"_Shut up_ and keep your concern to yourself - you didn't do such a good job of eliminating him so you have no right to worry about me until we fix this mess," she said coldly. Clint glared at her.

_Don't you just love her when she is in icy Black Widow mode? _

Clint didn't.

"It's not _my_ fault I had to drug myself to keep going," he hissed at her. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Why did you get bite in the _first_ place?" she demanded. Clint _stared_ at her.

"Natasha, it's not like I _wanted_ to get bite by wolves with viral saliva!" he exclaimed in frustration. Natasha gritted her teeth.

"Who told you to come into a base you knew had freak lab experiments roaming around huh?" she asked in disbelief. Clint banged his back against the head rest and glared at her.

"Don't you _dare_ try and tell me I shouldn't have come after my partner!" he growled furiously.

"_I was fine_!" she hissed. Clint's face darkened.

She was not fine. Screaming was not fine. Natasha doesn't scream for just anything - he had learned that very well.

"_You were fucking being tortured Romanoff_!" he shouted in outrage. Natasha practically _strangled_ him - _how dare he underestimate her?  
_  
"_I can take it_!" she bellowed back at him. Clint's eyes flashed dangerously.

"You shouldn't _have_ to!" he growled darkly. Natasha clenched her hands into fists as she shook in her seat beside him.

"Don't treat me like a fragile doll Barton - _you're the one who got kidnapped_!" she spat as she roughly grabbed him by the scruff of his ruined bloody uniform and shook his still bound body to make her point. Clint finally cracked.

"_I'm sorry for getting caught while trying to find you while I am fucking dying on the inside_!" he exploded before he promptly turned his head away from her and heaved as something got clogged in his chest. He took several painfully tortured breaths before he spat out a mouth full of blood that just drove his point into the ground.

_Silence_.

Natasha finally got pulled out of her all encompassing rage aimed at her reckless partner and suddenly she got a very clear picture of his horrible condition. He was breathing unevenly, his eyes were glassy and slightly unfocused and he was so tense his shoulders were twitching ever so slightly.

The next time he passed out he might not wake up again.

"I'm going to kill him," she seethed beside him. Clint glared daggers into the forest flying by them at lightning speed - sooner or later they were going to hit something and he wanted her out of here before that happened.

"_Now_ who is being overprotective?" he muttered touchily. If he wasn't allowed to get angry on her behalf he wouldn't take that shit from her either. Natasha sharply looked away when he caught her act of hypocrisy - _bastard_.

They both tensed as the steering wheel suddenly locked and stopped responding to his tugs. Clint furiously yanked at the wheel but it wouldn't even budge. _Oh...so that's how they got him in a moving car without him consciously steering_.

They were so utterly screwed.

"_Barton_...," Natasha said carefully. Clint clenched his teeth before they even heard the third voice echo in the space of their car.

"_I wonder what's at the edge of the forest...,"_ a disturbingly familiar voice said through the radio speakers. Both assassins promptly narrowed their eyes.

"Yago," they hissed at the same time. _They really hated this target with a passion._

"_Let's find out why don't we_?" Yago's voice said mysteriously. Natasha instantly glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of the Director doing whatever the _hell_ he was doing still stuck on top of Yago's car. She narrowed her eyes - what the hell _was_ he doing?

"_Still on the roof_," Natasha muttered under her breath so that if there were any mikes in the car the number one man they all wanted to stick a bullet down his throat couldn't hear.

"Well _he_ is taking his damn time," Clint muttered back. Natasha tensed as she watched all the cars behind them curve sharply to the right while Barton and her were forced to keep driving forward.

That was never good.

"Barton I think-" Natasha started to say but cut herself off when they both tensed as they caught sight of the suddenly approaching dead drop 20 meters ahead of them.

_Oh shit._

"_Natasha_...," Clint started to say as he tightly yanked at the steering wheel that still refused to budge. The next thing he knew Natasha was practically sitting in his lap as she rapidly started speeding up her rapid fire slashing through the rest of his binds and catching her blade on his uniform in her hast.

"_Shut up_ Barton," she warned as she got through 8 separate straps of ropes tightly wrapped around his torso. Clint tensed.

_They were running out of time_.

"_Natasha_-"

"Shut up and let me _work_ damn it!" she growled in frustration. Clint quickly looked over her shoulder and paled.

"_We're about to drive off a fucking cliff woman_!" he exclaimed in alarm.

Natasha glanced down at the thick duct tape she still had to get through and the incoming drop that was seconds away.

"Oh fuck this," Natasha muttered as she braced herself for the 50 meter fall and slammed her hand down on the button to make the passenger window go back up - _they were going to need all the air they could get. _Clint slammed his eyes shut as the wheel rolled right off of edge of the cliff and they were in suspension for a split second.

And then they were both in free fall.

"You asshole - _now we're both going to die_!" Clint shouted at her as the car fell through the sky and rapidly approached the shallow lake below. Natasha grabbed onto the back of his head rest with one hand and grabbed the edge of his torn uniform with her other fist.

"_Don't you dare shout at me Barton_!" she hissed right before they hit the water.

_SLPASH_!

"_Get out_ Natasha!" Clint shouted at her as the car started to rapidly sink into the lake. Natasha shot him a _livid_ look.

"_Shut the hell up_ you unhelpful bastard and let me cut the stupid tape!" she hissed at him.

"I'm not worth it - get out!" he growled. Natasha finally had enough and roughly grabbed the edge of his ripped collar and nearly _strangled_ him.

"Would you leave me Barton? Would you?" she demanded. Clint tensed as the water level dangerously started rising in the car starting at their waist.

"That's not the _point_," he hissed. Natasha narrowed her eyes as she watched the fear lurking in the back of his eyes. He wasn't scared of her - he was scared _for_ her. _The idiot_ - she was the one who wasn't worth his concern and yet he always gave it to her anyway.

"You wouldn't Barton - that is the reason why I won't leave until I get your ass out of here," she said angrily. Clint stared at her in disbelief. The Natasha from ten months ago would have left him in a heartbeat. Hell, the Natasha from even _six_ months ago might have even left too.

But this Natasha didn't want him to die anymore. _This_ Natasha actually cared for the bastard strapped to a sinking car.

"Oh for the love of god don't be heroic _now_ Romanoff!" Clint exclaimed irritably. Natasha eyes flashed.

"This is _not_ heroics - I wouldn't waste my time trying to save just anyone. _You are not allowed to die - understand you asshole?" _she hissed. Clint didn't have time to answer.

"_Shit_!" he cursed right before the water level reached their necks. They both took a deep breath and glared at each other as they got submerged under the water. Natasha promptly shoved his head back and went straight for his thighs and started cutting through the infernal duct tape that trapped him in the rapidly sinking car.

She got through all the tape stuck to one leg when the need for oxygen started clawing at her lungs. She glanced up and found her partner sagging and starting to lose focus due to the lack of air. She gritted her teeth and swiftly pulled away from him.

Natasha swam up to the top of the SUV where they was still a small pocket of air left and breathed in a gigantic breath of air before she dived back down towards her still trapped partner. Clint glared at her and told her with her eyes to _just leave_. Natasha promptly whacked him upside the head before she roughly grabbed his face and slammed their mouths together so that she could literally _breath out_ air into his lungs. She could literally _feel_ the angry scowl on his lips before she swiftly pulled away and went back up to get her own breath of the rapidly diminishing air supply for herself. She inhaled one last breath of air before the water level hit the ceiling.

Natasha steeled her eyes - she had 3 minutes to get them out or they were both going to drown to death.

She rapidly cut through the last of the duct tape that bounded his hands to the steering wheel. When she _finally_ freed him completely she quickly glanced up and saw that he was nearly passed out all over again. Natasha angrily grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and brutally kicked his side of the car door open. She slammed her lips shut tighter and fought against the burning need for oxygen. She gritted her teeth and roughly _yanked_ him out of the car with all her considerable strength. The second he was free the car promptly _sank_ like a tank down towards the bottom of the lake and Natasha felt her vision begin to rapidly fade.

She was quickly running out of air.

He was already out of air seconds ago.

She used the last of her strength to kick her legs up through the water and drag both of them to the surface. Just as she was about to pass out she broke the water surface and gasped in a huge breath of fresh _air_. She swiftly turned towards her already half passed out partner and brutally _slapped_ him across the face.

"_Wake up Barton_! Don't drown on me now - you're the one who fucking _likes_ water!" Natasha shouted as she _dragged_ his limp body towards the shore. When she finally managed to haul his dead weight on the bank of the lake she let him collapse onto the solid ground as her arms ached in extreme _exhaustion_. Clint coughed as she continued to slap him to keep him from slipping into blissful unconsciousness.

_No one woke up from that kind of sleep_.

"Natasha, _stop_ _slapping_ me!" Clint wheezed as he laid on the ground soaking wet from head to toe. Natasha's eyes flashed in anger - she refused to let him die from _water_ lodged in his chest.

"Breathe Barton! _Breathe_!" she yelled in his face as she kneeled in a blood red-tinted puddle beside her partner. She was freezing and soaking to the bone too.

"I'm trying! _I'm trying_!" he gasped as he coughed up _alarming_ amounts of lake water. Natasha was about to scold him some more when she suddenly froze as she heard the echoing backlash of _gunfire_ and just reacted on instinct.

"_Get down_!" she shouted before she roughly knocked him to the floor and near silently gasped into his shoulder when she got hit instead.

Clint froze in utter shock at what she _just_ did.

"_NATASHA_!" Clint's panicked voice echoed across the water and up into valley.

High above the lake standing at the edge of the cliff was one man - _one man that just refused to die._

"Missed one but got the other," Yago said as he lowered his gun. _Pity_ - but it was so much more fun watching a grown agent lose what was left of his mind as he held his dying partner in his arms. Yago turned to leave when a separate round of gunfire echoed in his ears.

_BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!_

_One bullet through his shooting arm. One bullet through his shoulder. Two bullets through the backs of his knees._

Yago went down like a tree._  
_  
"You are one little fucker that pissed off the wrong crowd Yago - a very _dangerous_ crowd," Fury said darkly as he lowered his smoking gun and towered over the shaking bastard on the floor. Fury watched with dangerously flashing eyes as the ex-SHIELD commander spasmed on his knees.

"I think I just killed your best team Fury - that doesn't seem like such a loss," Yago said with a harsh laugh as he fell into his own puddle of dirty blood. If he was going down - _he was going to take those two with him. _

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Far below the cliff on the shore Clint stared up in shock as Natasha barely winced and promptly collapsed on top of him.

Natasha _never_ just collapses.

"_Shit! Shit! Shit_!" Clint said in a rapid fire panic as he wrapped his arms around her waist and promptly sat up. He hurriedly shoved her ripped and barely hanging on uniform shirt up and nearly _threw up_ as he caught sight of the messy gushing red wound blooming in her side.

_She is going to die, _a small voice whispered in his ear._  
_  
"You are_ crap_ at avoiding bullets while high off morphine Barton," Natasha hissed as she finally _visibly_ winced from the bullet lodged into her stomach. When Natasha honestly reacts to pain - _it was bad_. It hurt like shit - she couldn't even _breathe_. Clint started to hyperventilate as the professional assassin part of his brain unconsciously registered the stats.

It was a direct fatal shot - she had less than 2 minutes. He has seen so many people shot in his lifetime that he couldn't even lie to himself. She wasn't going to make it _and it was all his fault_.

That bullet had been meant for _him_.

"_Shut up!_ Why did you do that? I'm dead anyway Natasha! Why did you take the shot?" Clint demanded trying to keep the hysteria out of his voice. Natasha blinked as she tried to make sense of his rapid fire words.

"Head shot - would've killed you instantly," she said tiredly as the dizziness from the rapid blood loss started getting to her head. Clint was still freaking out though - she didn't know how to make him shut up and let her die with dignity.

"It didn't _matter_! Now we're _both_ going to die!" he shouted as he pressed down hard on her bullet wound. No matter how good her enhancers were - they weren't fast enough to fix a gunshot like that one she was currently dying from. Natasha watched her partner get soaked in her blood that was rapidly spreading across the forest floor at alarming speed and smiled softly.

_Someone actually cared if she died. _

_No one cared before him._

_She wasn't just an asset to him. _

_She got shot for the right person. _

"Wouldn't...wouldn't that make me a crap partner if I let you get shot in the head Barton?" she said weakly touching his cheek with her crimson red hand and leaving a large red bloody hand-print on his face. His eyes were blown wide and flashed with genuine fear.

"Just hold on Tasha - Coulson and the med team will be here soon," he pleaded as he brushed the red hair out of her face and accidentally smeared even _more_ blood onto her. Natasha eye's softened.

_He cared. He actually cared for her. _

It was enough.

"Bye Barton," she said calmly - she would only ever meet death with her game face on. Clint froze as her head started to fall to the ground.

"_No_! Stay awake Natasha -_stay awake god damn it_!" Clint shouted as he shook her and roughly _slapped_ her across face as her eyes started to slide shut. His greatest fear was coming to life right before his very eyes.

_If she fell unconscious now she might never wake up._

"You're so fucking _loud_ Barton - just let me die in _peace_," Natasha muttered as she started to lose sight of his bruised and bloodied face - all she could see now was a dark blur of his rough features. That kind of sucked - the least her body could do was let her see the face of the man she was going to die for. Clint's heart nearly busted out of his chest in fear.

"There _is_ no peace where were going in death Natasha! _Please_ _stay awake_!" Clint begged - he didn't care if he sounded _weak_ to everyone else still listening on the open com link. The only partner he ever had was freaking dying and he couldn't do anything about it - _it was killing him_.

They were all silent anyway.

"_I'm not afraid to die Clint_," she whispered softly before her hand slowly slipped off his battered face as it fell to the floor and she instantly blacked out.

_I'm glad I got to meet you. _

"_No! Natasha_!" Clint shouted desperately trying to wake her without success - she wasn't going to wake up anytime soon. If they didn't get her on a surgery table _right this second _she was never going to wake up ever again. Clint slowly sank down onto the blood red floor beside his silent unmoving partner and bit back the urge to sob - she wasn't breathing anymore.

People who weren't breathing only had minutes left.

He shakily fished Natasha's com link from her ear and swayed in place as he felt another wave of nauseous sweep over him. He didn't even know when the virus in him was going to shock him system and kill him - but if she went down he damn well hoped he would too.

"G-get her medical attention when you guys get here," Clint wheezed as he fell into another coughing fit and threw up blood, vomit and everything else he ate over the last week a foot away from his unconscious and dangerously pale Russian partner. They were both covered in each other's blood as red as her hair.

_They both had minutes._

"We're almost there Barton - just hang on for another 2 minutes," Coulson said tensely. Clint laughed hysterically as he shook his head and swayed from left to right.

He was a pessimist - he didn't believe for a second that they were going to make it.

"I forgot to mention - that the virus is volatile Coulson," he whispered shakily before he promptly fell to his knees and passed out beside his life threateningly shot and bleeding partner. Coulson stared at his communicator in alarm.

"Barton? Romanoff? _Somebody answer damn it!"_ Coulson shouted through the forgotten com link that lay between the two of the best SHIELD agents who fought so hard to get to the other. Their blood that spread out across the dirty forest floor clashed and mixed together like everything else in their messed up assassin lives. They were going to die in ocean of blood as red as Natasha's ledger.

_If we're ever going to die during a mission - we would always go down together._

It was the unsaid promise they made to each other.

.

.

.  
.

**A/N: Just imagine the reader freak out if I **_**just**_** killed Clintasha...because I think I almost did. Imagine if they were alone and dying on this mission like all their other missions...**

**Like the last scene in Romeo and Juliet...dying next to each other - but assassin styled. **

**(I hate Romeo and Juliet - bullshit love story).**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**(O.O JUST IMAGINE! I would totally shut down my computer and hide under my bed if I ever had the balls to kill them.)**

**You know it's not supposed to be funny...but they kind of went down bitching at each other - old married assassin couple styled.**

_**Mission is officially over though**_**. Let's hope Coulson and SHIELD doctors can pull them both out of this mess without damaging one of them beyond repair. **

**Was that a good worthy 100th chapter?**


	101. Chapter 101

**Chapter 101**

**A/N: I SCARED YOU DIDN'T I? HAHA! That was the biggest fan freak-out I ever caused! **

**I feel sadistically proud. **

**But I love Clintasha guys - I'm a softie on the inside! After you know...I beat them up and try to kill them a few times, screw with their heads, make them want to kill themselves...wow I'm pretty bad. Anyway.**

**The angst is **_**not**_** over. **

**It just started. **

**WATCH HOW SHIELD SAVES THEIR BEST FIELD TEAM! **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Clint floated in and out of consciousness as he heard different sounds and feelings wash over him as he felt the virus in his system wreck havoc on his entire body. He was cold and hot at the same time. He felt like someone was squeezing the air out of his lungs. He couldn't open his eyes but he could hear voices as he felt himself be moved around but had no energy to resist the movement.

"_Clint...Clint you're going to be okay...," _a warm familiar voice said in worry near his ear, but he didn't care about himself though - he was worried for his partner.

_So worried for her._

_"Na..tash...," _he tried to say but just couldn't make his vocal cords respond - _everything hurt so much_. He felt like he was drowning on the inside.

_"Shhh...don't talk...you need to rest...,"_ the anxious voice said shakily. Clint tried to shake his head but all he managed was one futile turn.

_"...got shot...for me...Tash...need help...," _he whispered brokenly as his voice cracked at the end. He felt a warm hand brush through his hair and that instantly made him feel safe. There were only two people in the entire world who made him feel safe - _but one of them was dying right now._

_"...I know Clint...go to sleep...,"_ the anxious voice said shakily. He wondered why they were so anxious - he finally felt safe. He felt someone lift him off the ground and the comforting arms wrapped around him was the last thing he felt before the soothing voice faded and Clint fell into unconsciousness all over again. The next thing he knew the voices had changed and they were no longer familiar and comforting.

_"...she's covered in his blood...," _one voice said tensely.

_"...cross contamination...infected...," _another voice chimed in.

_"...she has minutes...dead...," _yet another voice said.

_"...can't save them both...," _and another voice said until they all sounded the same to him.

_Clint was scared. He was so freaking scared. He hated doctors. He knew she did too. _

_"Coulson...," _Clint croaked. Where was Coulson?

_"...Knock him out and freeze him with the static drug...before the virus get's to his brain...," _a deep voice with massive amount of authority ordered.

_Silence._

_"...but Sir it's untested...side effects...brain damage...," _an unfamiliar voice said hesitantly.

_"...do it anyway...or they'll really be dead...," _the authoritative voice said steadily. Clint tensed on whatever soft thing he was lying on and felt a painful prick in the side of his neck.

_"...Wait no...Tash-" _he exclaimed in panic.

And then everything faded into darkness.

For a _long_ time.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

White.

Everything was white.

It was way too damn bright.

There was a hazy cloud over her mind one second - and the next second she was awake and in panic.

Natasha's eyes flashed open and she froze as she found herself in a bright white box strapped down to a medical table with at least 30 different types of restraints with red lights flooding the room she was trapped in. She could practically _feel_ the radiation simmering in the air.

_Holy shit. _

"_Where the hell am I_?" Natasha asked dangerously. She _knew_ they could hear her.

"Just be calm agent Romanoff...," Coulson's careful voice came over a set of speakers from behind the window on her left. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Why am I in SHIELD's decontamination chamber?" she asked slowly. She heard a momentary pause which meant that they were rapidly discussing something behind the window - she knew enough about intelligence agencies to know _exactly_ how they worked.

"...just protocol Romanoff...you got infected from Barton's blood...," Coulson finally said truthfully. Natasha's heart froze. She was the one who got fatally shot but _he_ was the one with the life threatening virus in his system.

Natasha tensed.

_Clint_.

"Where is he?" she asked tensely. Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. _Oh god he can't do this right now. _

"...we need you to stay calm and listen to us very carefully Natasha...," Coulson said cautiously into the mike. No one is supposed to be awake during the decontamination process - it was _traumatizing_. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

When he used her first name something was wrong.

"Coulson tell me _where the fuck is he_?" she demanded as she glared daggers into the observation window. How a single redheaded woman strapped to a damn medical table in a indestructible room could look so terrifying they had no idea.

Coulson took a sharp breath - he couldn't tell her that right now. She needed to finish the decontamination process and she couldn't leave no matter what was happening to her partner. He instantly muted the communication system.

"Knock her out," Coulson said firmly. Everyone _stared_ at him.

"She can't get out Sir-"

Coulson 's stare hardened as he watched Romanoff expertly start unlocking _every single_ restraint they put on her. She was going to be out for their blood in _seconds_.

_Well shit. _

"Oh trust me, she can definitely break out - _knock her out agent Jones_," Coulson ordered fiercely. Every single agent in the observation room stood there in shock as they watched their newly enlisted Russian operative basically break through every damn restraint known to man and promptly head for the door - with murder in her eyes.

"Yes sir!" agent Jones squeaked in shock before he quickly spun around and gassed the room. Natasha clenched her teeth and glared daggers at the only window in her room as she fell to her knees and felt her vision start to rapidly fade. _Fuck them. She was going to kill them all. How dare they gas her?_

But more importantly...

_Why won't he tell her? _

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Coulson sat beside one of his best agents and rubbed his forehead tiredly. The first time she woke up had been _bad_ and unexpected - most likely due to her enhancers. For the decontamination to work they had to repress the enhancer effect. Now she was virus-free - but he didn't know who was going to be waking up now. He stared at the sleeping agent in front of him. He paused when he saw her breathing rate change ever so slightly.

He knew she was awake.

"Agent Romanoff...?" he said carefully. Her eyes flashed open and he tensed as he waited to see what she would do.

"Natasha are you okay?" Coulson asked worriedly.

Natasha didn't answer as she narrowed her eyes.

"Natasha-"

"My name is not _Natasha_!" she hissed. Coulson froze - _oh shit._

"Oh for the love of god - _someone get her enhancers_," he muttered into his com link. Natalia narrowed her eyes at the man sitting in a pristine suit beside her.

"Who are you?" she asked suspiciously. Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath before he started this potentially disastrous conversation. He can't _believe_ she relapsed due to the medications.

"My name is Phil Coulson - do you remember talking to me on the phone? Do you remember an American agent named Clint Barton at all?" he asked slowly. Natalia scowled - why was he talking to her like she was a child?

"I'm not stupid - I remember," Natalia said irritably. She remembers everything that wasn't Natasha's memories. Coulson sighed in relief - _thank god for small mercies_. He didn't have to knock her out - again.

"So you know that you must have gotten enhanced back into Natasha if you ended up here after your last memory right?" he asked carefully. Natalia narrowed her eyes.

"I'm not talking to you until I'm sure who you are. So prove it. Prove that you are the same Phil Coulson I talked to when I was in Hong Kong with agent Barton," Natalia said steadily. Coulson chuckled. Always the vigilant spy - even in regressed mode.

"You were incredibly sassy - annoying so. Made a wise crack about how insulted you were that I thought so poorly of you - which was incorrect. But more importantly - you promised not to kill agent Barton...possibly because you seemed to like him. Do you remember any of that?" he asked slowly watching her with cautious eyes. Natalia instantly deflated _- he was telling the truth_. She took several deep breaths as she tried to calm down and rationally assessed her situation.

She wasn't hurt.

She wasn't injured.

They weren't torturing her.

She wasn't even handcuffed.

She was in a honest to god patient recovery room.

After 2 years of only pieces of her memories she had to learn when to take someone else's word about her life as the truth or not.

It was a terrible existence.

"So where is Barton, Coulson?" Natalia asked clearly exhausted by her entire situation. Coulson shook his head.

"He's not here right now," he said quietly. Natalia narrowed her gaze as she searched his eyes.

They were full of lies and sorrow.

"_You're lying_," she said carefully. Coulson winced.

"Will you take your enhancers Natalia?" Coulson asked trying to keep the worry out of his voice.

Natalia's eyes flashed.

"What happens if I say _no_?" she challenged as she clenched her hands into fists. She _hated_ drugs. Coulson's eyes grew sad.

"Then you're going to die Natalia," he said quietly. Natalia took a deep breath as she sank back down on her bed and stared daggers into the depressingly white ceiling. One day she was going to kill everyone in the Red Room for doing this to her - but she couldn't do that if she died. She couldn't make them pay for splitting her into two different people if she died. One of them was going to destroy her past handlers - she didn't really care which one it was - but Natasha had the better shot at coming out of that suicide mission alive. Natalia was less mentally advanced in military and spy tactics but she was _not_ stupid.

"Did Natasha come back? Did it work the first time?" she asked as she turned her face away from him and stared at the wall beside her.

"Yes. She definitely came back," Coulson said trying to hide his slight discomfort with a cough. Natalia's expression went blank. She had a feeling she knew what happened between Natasha and Barton when she came back.

"Was he happy?" she asked simply. Coulson froze.

"Natalia please don't do that to yourself...," he said pleadingly. _Don't make me answer that._ Natalia blinked as she continued to stare at the wall - she got her answer anyway.

_He was. _

"Give me the damn enhancer Coulson," she said in defeat.

She was tired of living in a world where she only had pieces of herself. She didn't even know which one of them was the real person - but it didn't matter because she would never survive in this world as Natalia anyway. Natasha was stronger and had a better chance of keeping them both alive in the dangerous world they worked in. And at least Natasha had _all_ their memories.

_At least one of them got him in the end..._

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The second time Natasha woke up in damn SHIELD medical, agent Coulson was sitting next to her bed with a worn out look on his face. He looked like he hasn't slept in weeks.

He probably hasn't slept at all since the mission ended.

"You're going to be okay Romanoff...," Coulson said quietly. Natasha's eyes darkened.

"I don't give a _shit_ about me Coulson - _where is he_?" she asked threateningly. She wouldn't let him drug her this time - she _had_ to know. Coulson suddenly sighed and slumped in his chair - it was shocking.

Coulson _never_ lost his composure.

"He is in the long term critical ward...," he finally, _finally_ told her the _one_ thing she wanted to know.

Natasha sighed in relief as she fell back against her pillow.

He was alive - thank god.

"Has he woken up?" she asked with a tired smile. Coulson instantly looked away. Natasha gave him a suspicious look.

"We're not letting him - he is under static sleep right now. He still needed more deep sleep healing and he can't be awake during most of it," Coulson said seriously. Natasha _stared_ at him.

Interesting how she was the one shot _dead_ and yet Barton was the one still under.

"Why am I not _dead _Coulson?" she asked point blank - the million dollar question. Coulson visibly _winced_.

"Really Romanoff? _Right now_?" he asked in disbelief. Natasha huffed.

"_Right now Coulson, right now_," she demanded heatedly. Coulson angrily rubbed his forehead and sighed in exhaustion. These agents drove him crazy!

"Your enhancers kept your brain function alive long enough for us to get you out of there...with the help of some other classified stuff...," Coulson said carefully. Natasha gave him a long look.

"When you say the word _stuff_ it sounds very _sketchy_," Natasha deadpanned. Coulson scowled.

"It _is_ very sketchy - they used experimental medicine and we had to replace half of your organs which all started _failing_ about a 1 week in for both you _and_ him," he muttered irritably. _Don't yell at me for saving your life Natasha _- he pleaded with his haunted eyes. Natasha sighed and tiredly looked away. She had already decided she wasn't going to flip her shit because she was just glad she was alive.

"I just _hate_ being a lab rat Coulson," she said truthfully. Coulson winced.

"I know - please forgive me for trying to save you. Your injures were fatal - you were literally _dead_ when we got to you Romanoff. No pulse, no heartbeat - _nothing_," he said quietly. _He_ was the one who authorized the untested procedure on her as her handler. He was the reason she was alive - but he was also the reason she was basically used as a SHIELD emergency medical experiment without her consent. Not all agents were saved though - it was way too expensive to revive every single operative that died in the field. It was just a fact of life. It takes millions to do the procedure they did for her _and_ Barton. They were two of the most useful agents and so they got top priority.

At the end of the day SHIELD was just like any other militarized organization in the world - they _needed_ their highly skilled operatives. They couldn't keep training new ones when their best died - it takes years to make prefect agents. Natasha Romanoff was a god damn _gift_ - trained and experienced by Russian intelligence using Russian millions - they weren't going to let her die on them. Natasha scanned his eyes and saw the sincere apology in them.

Oh, but she knew why _he_ did it.

Coulson could be a very selfish man indeed. Without her, Barton wouldn't even _want_ to get through recovery. Coulson knew that very well. Natasha was starting to get the feeling that Barton was his only real friend too in the middle all the madness and secrecy they all lived with while working for intelligence.

In a world like theirs you would do almost _anything_ to keep the few things that mattered to you safe. To save Barton he _had_ to make sure she got through too.

"Can I see him?" she asked quietly. Coulson's face suddenly turned grave.

"He is still viral - you can't touch him," he said firmly shaking his head. It was too dangerous for her. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"I didn't ask to touch him - I asked to _see_ him," she said very carefully. Coulson shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Protocol-"

"I'll burn this base down with every single one of us in it if you don't tell me which room he is in _right now_," Natasha said warningly. Coulson stared at her for a long moment. Natasha stared back with dangerously flashing eyes - she wasn't afraid to follow through with her threat. When Coulson started to sweat she knew she had won.

"Room 101 - private long term intensive care unit," he said in utter defeat. His American pride wept in the corner from being intimidated by an injured Russian in an ugly SHIELD medical gown.

"When am I allowed to get out of here exactly?" Natasha asked as she glanced at the door.

Not when _can_ I get out - she could have gotten out easily. She was giving him the courtesy of seeing that himself. Coulson sighed heavily - he got so tired of dealing with super spies sometimes.

"Right now if you want - which I know you do...but before you do that what was she thinking before she took the enhancers?" Coulson asked quietly. Natasha grimaced ever so slightly.

_Why did he have to go there? _

"I don't think you want to know Coulson," Natasha said warily. Coulson shook his head.

"I want to know that she really made the choice for the right reasons," he pressed. He needed to get this itch off his conscience. The world was a cruel place for people like Natalia. Natasha sighed as she pulled her knees up to her chest and stared down at the sheets on her bed.

"She chose to be enhanced again so that we can finish what I started 10 months ago," she said quietly. A shadow crossed his face when she said 10 months but it quickly disappeared. Natasha filed that away to asked him later.

_How long was she under exactly? _

"And what is that?" he asked carefully. What could be more important than wanting to stay alive?

"Breaking away from our past," she replied steadily. He paused.

"They'll never let you go Natasha," Coulson asked tiredly. _Not even if you are here with us_. _One day they will come after you._ Natasha smiled wryly. Oh she knew exactly who they would send after her.

"I know - I'll have to take them down before they come guns blazing," she said simply. Coulson sat there and tried desperately to understand why Natalia would give up so easily - for his own sanity.

"You're the better fighter?" he guessed. Natasha smiled sadly - she wished that was the only reason Natalia chose _her_ to live their life.

"I'm the better spy, better shot, better strategist - she wants to destroy the Red Room more then she wants to live," Natasha said tiredly. She would always have the better chance of making that happen. Coulson clenched his jaw in anger. _Damn_, the Russian were screwed up to do this mind screwing experiments to one of their own.

But...he was still human.

"Is it weird living with two sets of memories with two different personalities attached to each?" Coulson asked trying to beat down his curiosity and only show concern. Natasha saw _right_ through his act but didn't call him out on it. She simply shrugged half-heartedly.

"I learned to live with it. Most of the time we want the same things so I don't feel too guilty," Natasha said calmly. Coulson furrowed his brow.

"Most of the time means...?" he trailed off carefully. Natasha leaned her cheek against her knees and curled a strand of her red hair behind her ear.

"There are a couple things Natalia will always resent me for," Natasha said quietly. It wasn't her sharper mind, or her strength, or her skills, or even her scarily accurate aim.

It was the fact that he liked _her_ better_._

Coulson took a deep breath.

"That's fucked up Romanoff," he said point blank. Natasha laughed at his rare show of straightforwardness.

"Russians are fucked up Coulson - don't date us," she said wryly. Coulson grimaced. Thank god he wasn't Barton. Russians like her would drive any American crazy - but Barton was already half way there so it was okay. Romanoff and him weren't normal anyway. They never would be.

"I don't doubt it anymore," he muttered. Natasha suddenly glanced around the room looking for a calendar.

"What day is it?" she asked unexpectedly. Coulson paused.

_Silence. _

_Silence. _

_Silence. _

_Silence. _

Deep breath.

"Okay. Let's just get this over with. You are going to stay calm Natasha because I know almost nothing can phase you - but it's November 10th," Coulson said carefully. Natasha stiffened ever so slightly but it was a loud cry from other agent reactions he had gotten in the past.

"Coulson...our mission was executed in _September_," she said point blank. Coulson visibly winced. _Oh dear god don't let her strangle me to death. _

"You've been in and out for about 7 weeks," Coulson said gently. Natasha stared at him for a _long_ time as she went through everything she now knew in her head. Her conclusion?

SHIELD was full of secretive _bastards_ that used illegal means to keep their best agents alive.

_Thank god._

"Why did you wake me up the last two times?" she asked carefully. She was still in the decontamination chamber the last time she was awake as Natasha and Natalia was still injured when she woke up in the intense recovery room. Coulson sighed heavily and placed his head in his hands.

He really needed a vacation.

These secret intelligence operations were getting to his head.

"We didn't - your enhanced blood kept neutralizing the static drug," he said tiredly. Natasha unexpectedly smirked.

"Russians are resilient motherfuckers who don't like being knocked out for weeks on end," she said with slight pride. Coulson rolled his eyes. She was going to be fine.

"You have too much fun crediting your heritage for all your miraculous feats," he deadpanned. Natasha suddenly gave him a scary blank stare. Coulson twitched.

"Deal with it," she said simply. He sighed - she just _loved_ messing with his sanity.

"I do every day," he said warily. Natasha gave him a suspicious look but backed off. She owed him so much - she didn't know _how_ to repay him. No wondered Barton practically treated the man like his father. _He always did so much for them._

But she wasn't going to treat him any differently just cause he saved her ass _again_.

"Good. Now get out of my room so that I can put some damn real clothes on and see my partner," Natasha said coldly as she pointed her finger to the door. Coulson huffed.

"I'm still you handler you know!" he said irritably. _No respect whatsoever._

Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"And you also authorized weird sketchy _American_ experiments on me to keep me alive so take your kiss up tie and _get out_," she ordered unapologetically. Coulson paled - she had noticed his special self-confidence boosting tie - _damn it._ She would still be righteously pissed at him for as _long_ as she wanted.

Coulson grumbled as he made his way out of the room.

The thanks he gets for saving his agent's asses. _Bah_!

He didn't get paid enough for this shit.

He was so happy she was alive though - because he liked her yes...but her health also meant Barton was _that_ much more likely to pull through his own recovery.

_He was so much worse. _

_._

.

.

.

.

.

Natasha stood in front of a window in the critical ward and stared at a lump with brown hair surrounded by gigantic metal screens with nearly a hundred different wires attached on every surface of the body lying on the bed 7 feet away from her on the other side of the glass. He was barely recognizable due to how pale and small he looked.

But he was definitely Clint Barton.

"Is he brain dead?" she asked quietly. If he had no brain functioning he was basically dead.

"We don't know," Coulson said as he leaned against the wall beside her.

"What does his brain scans say?" she asked carefully. Coulson shifted beside her.

"There is cerebral activity - but we have 97 percent certainty that taking him off the static drugs would shock his system- and then we lose him," he said quietly. Natasha paused as she heard the hitched in his voice.

Translation: _I'm scared Natasha_.

"When will he be fully decontaminated?" she asked seriously.

"In 4 days," Coulson replied quietly. Natasha steeled her eyes.

"Get him off of the drugs in 4 days then - that's what he would want," she said stiffly. Coulson tensed.

"And what if he dies?" he asked stiffly. Natasha closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Would you want to be a puppet strapped to wires for the rest of your life Coulson?" Natasha asked softly. Coulson's eyes sadden - she was right of course. They couldn't keep him under forever - that's not a life anyone would want. Barton might not be enhanced - but he still had a chance of pulling through - however slim.

"The drug effects take a few days to wear off - especially since he has been on them for so long," Coulson said quietly with the exhaustion deep in his eyes. Natasha nodded silently.

"I'll be here - it's not like I'm going anywhere," she said quietly as she leaned her forehead against the glass and placed her hand on the cool screen - as if she was reaching out to her partner lying on a bed 7 feet away from her. She couldn't even _touch_ him.

Coulson silently stood beside her as they watched the one man they would both do anything for breathe while assisted by the best and most advanced technology in the world. He carefully put a hand on her shoulder - _and she let him_. After what has happened she's practically indebted to their entire organization now.

Damn her personal morals. _Damn. Damn. Damn._

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

_1 week later._

Natasha was sitting beside her partner who had finally gotten moved out of decontamination room and into a normal private ward. She had instant noodles containers scattered all over the table beside her because frankly she _never_ went home and she hated SHIELD cafeteria food.

She was also _never_ stepping foot in that apartment without him.

His cerebral brain activity hadn't plummeted like they had expected it would when he got taken off the drugs. Now it was just a waiting game. The doctors were 80 percent sure he would wake up at this point - but they didn't know how much of his brain function he would retain. That was the scary part. He could wake up as a child, he could wake up without any recollection of SHIELD or his life or he could wake up as his normal sarcastic self. Natasha just hoped the bastard would wake up already and let them _know_. She was currently resting her forehead against the edge of the bed because she was exhausted and she hasn't slept in a week. She was just ready for him to wake the fuck up so that she could take him home and lock them up together for a few days to just decompress and deal with all the shit they went through in Romania. The bed suddenly shifted and the heart monitor beeped as the heart rate went up.

Natasha held her breath.

"Um..._hey_...," a voice croaked from the bed.

Natasha bolted upright and stared at him in barely masked shock.

He was awake.

_He was actually awake. _

He looked like a small, boney, pale ugly shriveled piece of shit - _but he was awake._

"Hi...," she said hesitantly. Damn it the Black Widow was _never_ supposed to sound hesitant. Clint furrowed his brow suddenly as he stared at all the wires that were attached to his entire body. Damn his hated SHIELD medical _so damn much._

He hated their science department even _more_.

"Um...Do you know where agent Coulson is?" he asked suddenly glancing around the too bright room.

Natasha inhaled a sharp breath.

_Oh shit. _

"Yes. Do you want me to get him?" she asked calmly.

_She was so not calm inside_.

Clint blinked slowly and winced as he coughed weakly. Everything in his body still hurt like shit.

"Yeah that would be nice. Um...but who are you?" he asked tiredly.

Natasha didn't react _- at all_.

"No one important. I'll go get Coulson - he'll be glad to know you're awake," she said quietly standing up and walking out of his room.

The second the door shut behind her she lost it.

_CRASH_!

Everyone in the medical hall _froze_ as they watched a harshly breathing Russian assassin stare into a _massive_ hole in the wall she had just created. Natasha stood there for 10 seconds before she slowly extracted her bloody fist from the wall as plaster and rumble fell to the floor.

"I'll pay for that later," she said quietly. Nobody made a sound - they were all waiting for her next move. None of them gave a shit about the wall - they were just glad she didn't punch _them_.

"Romanoff...?" Coulson's voice said cautiously from behind her. Natasha shook her head.

"He's awake - you should go see him Coulson," she said as steadily as she could.

"That's not who I'm asking about right now...," he said carefully. Natasha eyes hardened as her steel cold mask fell into place - _it was so much easier to pretend like she couldn't feel anything._

Because if she let herself feel it she thinks she might die from the pain.

"Give me 3 hours Coulson," Natasha said as she clenched her hands into fists. Coulson narrowed his eyes.

"3 hours to do what? You're still in recovery Natasha," Coulson said cautiously with concern lacing his words. Natasha shook her head still staring at the white SHIELD medical wall. She knows exactly what she needs to get her control back - then she could deal with anything.

"...I just...just need 3 hours alone Coulson...," she said as calmly as she could even if she felt cracks in her mask. Her voice was the slightest bit higher than usual - but no one but Coulson would pick that up. Natasha slowly turned around and engaged in the most _painful_ staring match between concerned handler and emotionally compromised field agent there ever was. He was evaluating her psychological status on the spot and she was trying to project the calmest presence that she could.

She failed - _badly_.

"Promise me you'll come back...," he asked quietly. Natasha stared at him with haunted eyes -_ it nearly killed him._

"I promise I'll come back," she repeated back to him unthinkingly. Coulson shook his head as he watched her expertly control her breathing pattern - but he could tell she was seconds away from hyperventilating.

"Tell me you're not abandoning him Natasha. Please tell me you care about him enough to stay," he pleaded quietly. He couldn't make her do anything and they both knew that - if she wanted to leave no one could stop her. Natasha took a shaky breath as she ran a hand through her hair.

"I'll come back Coulson," Natasha said unsteadily as she backed away from him. She looked like a tortured cornered animal so he nodded and slowly stepped back himself. Unlike Barton he knew when his agents needed to be left alone.

"_I trust you Natasha_," Coulson said carefully because she needed someone to tell her that right now. Natasha nodded lifelessly.

No one has trusted her before _him_ in her entire life.

"Leave me alone for 3 hours," she whispered as she turned around and slipped out of SHIELD medical like a ghost. Every single SHIELD personnel watched her go with wary eyes.

_She had the air of an agent who just lost her partner. _

"You better Natasha - for _his_ sake," Coulson said quietly as he pulled out his security tablet and watched her rapidly make her way out of the SHIELD base in under 30 seconds and across the street in 60. There was no such thing as _privacy_ in an intelligence agency like SHIELD - he had her tagged since she woke up herself. The second she hit the side alley she slammed her eyes shut and started running.

Coulson knew exactly what she was going to do for 3 hours.

_She wasn't going to stop any time soon. _

_The only man who meant anything to her doesn't know who she is..._

.

.

.

.

._**Take a deep breath and calm down - it's not that bad. It could be worse. This is what I consider nice!  
**_

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Did I just start another gigantic post-mission problem?**

**Yes. Yes I did. First Barton had to deal with the huge Natalia mess after Japan.**

**Now Natasha has to deal with his brain damage after Romania. **

**The ultimate test of loyalty: will she come back when he needs her? Or is she going to run away from the only man she ever even **_**considered**_** dying for and nearly did? **

**Don't worry too much - I always fix their problems eventually yes? I won't torture you all for too long. Trust me this is connected to the virus storyline and Yago (the bastard is still alive). It is not random. I planned it all from the start of Romania. **

**Barton has to come back eventually for the Avengers right? Just hold onto that fact. **

**You all know they end up okay - the fun part about this story is **_**how**_** they get there. **

**This was a Natasha /Coulson truly bonding chapter. **

**Crazy SHIELD and their secretive life saving science. **

**AT LEAST I DIDN'T KILL THEM :P **


	102. Chapter 102

**I Dare You **

**A/N: Oh you poor babies...:P GROW A PAIR AND GET A DAMN TISSUE :P - you're reading about assassins for crying out loud they will get hurt - but they are brilliant agents who can get through a lot of mental stress and still come out fine! Or...well they'll get better. **

**Now watch me fix this mess I created :) **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 102 **

Coulson stood in front of one of his best agents and his most important friend's door and took a deep breath - it as now or never. He gripped the door knob tightly in his grasp and pushed the door open.

"Hi Barton," Coulson said carefully walking into the room and closing the door quietly behind him. Clint was sitting perched at the edge of his bed with a tired look on his face. He looked up and his eyes filled with relief before it instantly turned into irritation.

"_Coulson_! Where the hell have you been? Don't you always man my bed like an over protective guard dog when I get shot down?" Clint said irritated that his handler wasn't here when he woke up. Coulson was..._shocked_ to say that least. _Oh god...how old was Barton mentally exactly?_

"I was here for a few hours - but you're usually taken care of nowadays...," Coulson said carefully. _You don't need me as much now that you have her. _Clint gave him a blank look.

He wasn't making any sense.

"_Coulson_...we both know I don't remember shit from this mission that obviously landed me here in Medical _again_...so let's cut to the chase. What happened? Was the target neutralized? How the hell did I end up as a lab rat for the crazy SHIELD scientists because we both know they had _something_ to do with why I am alive. Also, please for the love of god _please_ tell me Hill is nowhere to be seen," Clint very fast and very seriously. He braced his elbows against his knees and cupped his face as he stared up at his handler expectantly.

Coulson paled - _oh shit._

"It's a really, _really_ long story Clint...," Coulson said tiredly. Clint scoffed and waved his hand dismissively.

"Trust me - I have time. Do you see these wires? There is a wire in my freaking _butt_! Ugh! I hate science," Clint muttered as he fidgeted with the intrusive wires stuck to his arms - he hated _anything_ on his arms except for his arm guard for his bow. Coulson sighed tiredly - this Barton had _way_ too much energy.

"Okay...let's start with something easy - what year do you think it is?" Coulson asked warily. Clint furrowed his brow in concentration.

"October 1999 is what I thought it was - but obviously you're going to say I'm wrong so what year is it _really_?" Clint asked seriously. Now it was Coulson's turn to blink - _damn_ he forgot how adaptable young Clint really was to drastic changes.

"It's November 17th, 2003," Coulson said slowly. Clint paused.

"Huh. So...you're trying to tell me I lost_ 4_ _years Coulson_?" Clint deadpanned. Coulson sighed - he was going to be _difficult_. He was too old to be dealing with a young off the streets smartass Barton all over again.

"Do you believe me Clint?" Coulson asked with the exhaustion clear in his tone. Clint instantly lost his confrontational attitude when he realized just how _tired_ his handler really looked. _What happened?_

"Can I have some more proof other than just your words?" Clint asked slowly. Coulson raised an eyebrow.

"I thought my words were golden?" he said dryly. Clint scoffed.

"_Coulson_...," he said warningly. Coulson rolled his eyes and promptly handed him a newspaper and a mirror. Clint stared at the more interesting item in his hand - no it was _not_ the mirror - he was not _that_ narcissistic. Clint stared at the date at the top right hand corner of the paper.

"Newspaper dates can be forged...," Clint said carefully. Coulson rolled his eyes - _no shit._

"That is not the proof. That is for you to read later when you get bored and want to start catching up on all the news you have missed. The mirror is your proof hot shot," Coulson said dryly. Clint scowled but held up the mirror to take one good look at himself.

He instantly paled.

"_Holy shit_ - I look like a zombie coming back from the _dead_," Clint said with a grimace. Coulson gave him a wary look - _oh if you only knew the half of it Barton._

"You were infected with a virus that nearly killed you - it took us 2 months to get you stable and awake again," Coulson explained slowly. Clint winced as he continued to look through the mirror and tug at his pale dead flat hair - even his _hair_ looked lifeless!

"Well...then you did one awesome job reviving me. Who saved my ass when the mission went downhill? Who was the extraction team?" Clint asked curiously. Coulson suddenly looked severally uncomfortable but decided just to dive in.

"Natasha Romanoff," he said steadily.

Clint's expression didn't change.

"I've got nothing - who is that? Is she a new agent?" he asked furrowing his brow in confusion. Coulson's expression darkened. He felt like _shaking_ him until he remembered the girl who is currently _who knows_ where, trying to come to terms with that fact that the _only_ man that ever believed in her doesn't remember her at all.

"The Black Widow...?" Coulson tried cautiously. _That_ got a reaction - or well turned into no reaction. Clint's face went deceptively blank.

_Cricket...cricket...cricket..._

Wait for it.

"_THE BLACK WIDOW SAVED MY ASS_?" echoed down every hall in SHIELD medical. Several birds took flight from the telephone wires outside Barton's medical room window. He was _terrifying_ the wild life.

Coulson rubbed his ears as the archer's outburst rang in his head. Oh man this Barton had one heck of a loud hysterical voice when he wanted to be loud. Coulson preferred him quiet and thoroughly focused - but Clint was only those two things during an important sniping shot or a takedown. Otherwise..._he was exceptionally different_.

"Was that really necessary?" Coulson asked with a wince. Clint's eyes darkened.

"_Yes_! Yes it was! The Widow is trying to kill me! I'm dead Coulson! I'm _dead_!" Clint said as he dramatically fell back onto his bed. Coulson scowled at him.

"Stop being a legendary asshole Barton," Coulson said stiffly. How could he say that about his _own_ partner? Clint paused as he replayed Coulson's tone in his brain.

"Are you...defending a world class criminal?" Clint asked in confusion. Coulson scowled.

"Barton - you are a world class _jerk_," Coulson growled. Clint frowned.

"Ouch - that one stung Phil," Clint said lowly. Coulson narrowed his eyes.

"Get over it and get your act together," he muttered - he was really tired of all this crap. Clint scoffed. He _always_ had his act together.

"So, who is the pretty redhead?" he asked tilting his head to the side. Coulson froze and nearly _banged_ his head against the wall. _Oh dear god kill him now._

"You have never seen a picture of the Black Widow have you?" Coulson assumed tiredly. Clint slowly shook his head but then he froze.

_Blink. Blink. Blink._

"_NOOOOOOOOOO_!" Clint exclaimed in horror. Coulson nearly jumped _right_ out of his skin.

"Honestly. What is _wrong_ with you Barton?" Coulson asked in frustration. Clint was practically hyperventilating.

"She - she - _Widow_ - she _WHAT_?" Clint shouted in alarm. Coulson shook his head in utter _disbelief_.

"Oh for the love of god I'm glad Romanoff is not here - you are a _disgrace_," Coulson said irritably. Clint paused in his freak out.

"_Hey_!" he said thoroughly insulted.

"How old are you Barton?" Coulson asked seriously. Clint paused.

"Um...how old do I think I am or how old am I _physically_?" he asked slowly. Coulson's pinched the bridge of his nose.

"_Mentally_," he said firmly. Clint gave him a wary look.

"Last time I checked I was 20...," Clint said warily. Realization dawned on Coulson's face - _extremely late_. Coulson wanted to slap himself.

"Oh no _wonder_ you're like this," Coulson muttered finally giving into the urge and banging his head against the wall. Clint furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Like what?" he asked slowly. Coulson gave him a long look.

"Like a child," he said flatly. Clint scoffed - as if that was new.

"You _always_ think I act like a child Coulson...," Clint said slowly. Coulson rubbed his face with his hands. Oh dear god this Barton had so much growing up to do.

"When she comes in here you will behave okay?" Coulson ordered fiercely. Clint blinked slowly.

"Okay?" Clint said hesitantly. Coulson narrowed his eyes.

"Say like you mean it Barton - _okay_?" Coulson asked seriously. Clint shifted uncomfortably under his handler's killer stare.

"Okay...," Clint said slowly. Coulson 's expression darkened and that nearly made Clint faint in fear.

"_Okay_?" Coulson stressed. Clint started to sweat.

"Okay! Okay!" Clint said in panic.

"_Okay_?" Coulson repeated just to drive his point home - Clint finally broke.

"Stop it Coulson you're scaring the hell out of me!" Clint exclaimed in alarm. Coulson face grew grim.

"Trust me - she will scare you if you don't behave," Coulson said seriously. Clint frowned.

"You make her sound like I'm meeting a military General or something, " he muttered petulantly. Coulson sighed.

"Oh trust me - she is worse than a General," he said frankly. Clint paled.

"Oh. My. _God_ - tell me she is not like Hill _please_!" Clint begged. Coulson narrowed his eyes.

"Hey! Respect your superiors!" he said tightly. Clint snorted.

"I _hate_ authority figures," he muttered. Coulson shook his head in defeat - he didn't even know _what_ to do with him anymore.

"I really got sick of listening to your voice when you were a young agent," Coulson muttered under his breath.

"Ha ha you're so funny Coulson," Clint said sarcastically.

"Are you done mocking me yet?" Coulson asked plainly. Clint furrowed his brow.

"Yeah," he muttered.

Coulson sighed heavily.

"Good - now give me a damn hug," he said with a no-nonsense expression.

Clint scrunched his nose up in distaste and instantly inched away as fast as his aching limbs would let him.

"_Why_?" Clint asked in disgust. _Icky Coulson germs? No thanks!_

Coulson gave him a levelled stare.

"Because the last time I hugged you - you were dying in my arms Clint," Coulson said seriously. That instantly wiped the playful theatrics off Barton's face. Coulson raised an eyebrow as Clint quickly glanced around like a fugitive as he made sure no other agents were around before he leaned forward gave his handler a quick _man_ hug.

He would forever defend that men can have manly hugs.

Coulson ignored Clint's childishness and slowly wrapped his arms him and gave Clint a light squeeze though he was mindful of his fragile state.

"Was I really dying?" Clint asked quietly against his shoulder. Coulson inhaled a sharp breath.

"Yes - you were at the edge of no return Clint. You scared the _shit_ out of me," Coulson said seriously. Clint's eyes fell.

"I'm sorry," Clint said softly as he tightened his grip on the only constant in his life for a long time. Coulson sighed.

"It's okay Clint- just get better and don't drive Romanoff too crazy while we figure out how to fix your memories okay?" Coulson said warningly. Clint's eyes grew weary - who was this Black Widow girl anyway?

"It's raining," Clint said quietly as he pulled out of his only friend's embrace and looked out the window. Coulson glanced at the rain drops hitting the window as well and shook his head.

"She is going to be _soaked_," he said with a sigh.

.

.

.

.

.

_2 and a half hours later. _

Near the SHIELD base it was just drizzling - but 5 miles away in a small practically _deserted_ park the rain was pouring and drenching everything and everyone in sight. While every sane person was running for cover Natasha Romanoff was sitting on a park bench staring at her soaked through jeans with unseeing eyes. The sound of her watch was echoing in her ears.

_Tick. _

_Tick. _

_Tick. _

She promised Coulson she would be back in half an hour.

She didn't know if she wanted to go back - even if she _did_ promise.

Her thoughts debating the pros and cons of catching the next flight out of America came to a screeching _halt_ when a pair of muddy purple boots with little yellow ducks enters her direct line of sight and stopped in front of her. Natasha took a deep breath as she slowly raised her eyes and came face to face with the last person she wanted to see right now.

"Hi Natasha," Alicia Vargaras said giving her a weak smile. Natasha stared at the little girl for a long time as the rain continued to soak her to the bone.

"Alicia," Natasha greeted quietly. She was too tired to scold the kid for nearly startling a dangerous assassin - let alone a severely unstable one like she was right now.

"It's been a long time since I last saw you," Alicia said twirling her little pink umbrella on her shoulder. It's been almost 4 months since Clint and Natasha went M.I.A. with the little Spanish kid in tow after their mission in Colombia. After that disaster Natasha avoided the kid like the _plague_. Barton had silently made his peace with her disappearing act - he knew she wasn't kid material.

She would _never_ be kid material - not with the type of sick horrors she deals with in her head on a daily basis. Not with the number of little girls she has killed with her own hands. She thinks she would bolt if Alicia tried to touch her.

"You still have SHIELD following you around," Natasha said insightfully as she glanced behind the little Spanish squirt and saw the obviously SHIELD agent dressed in civilian clothes a few meters down the dirt path. He was politely looking like he was not eavesdropping on their conversation - _but they both knew he was listening to every word. _

"Still got nuclear codes in my head," Alicia said with a shrug. Natasha sighed and looked away.

"Why are you at the park when it's raining Alicia?" Natasha asked quietly. Alicia gripped her pink umbrella with both her tiny hands and tilted her head to the side.

"Why are you sitting on a bench in a park while it's raining?" she shot back. Natasha frowned - she didn't have to deal with this. Why won't the world just let her sulk in _peace_?

"Leave me alone squirt," Natasha muttered as she turned away from her. Alicia just took one gigantic step to the left and ended up right in front of Natasha once again. Natasha scowled at the persistent little girl.

"You've been avoiding me," Alicia said quietly. Natasha tensed and balled her hands into fists.

"I have no obligations to you Alicia - it can't be called avoiding when there is nothing connecting me to you," Natasha said stiffly.

"You never come with him," Alicia said steadily. Natasha's eyes hardened.

"Alicia - what my partner does on his own time is none of my business," Natasha said heatedly. Alicia narrowed her green eyes and tightly griped her little pink umbrella.

"After you two got kidnapped in Panama you stayed far away from me. He talks about you all the time when he comes to visit me you know. You're like his entire world Natasha - and I get a small island of it. I met _you_ first when I was strapped to a bomb on a train in Madrid and you helped save my life - but now you act like we've never met in our lives," Alicia said starting to get upset at her own words.

"_Alicia_," Natasha said warningly. Alicia ignored the warning.

"Why do you avoid me Natasha? What did I do? Why don't you like me?" Alicia asked firmly. she had to know what was so wrong with her that the most important person in Clint's life won't even _look_ at her.

This was a _really_ bad time to talk to the usually very controlled Russian assassin.

If it was any other time she wouldn't have exploded like she did and she wouldn't have said things she would regret instantly.

Natasha finally cracked.

"I _kill_ children like you Alicia! I've killed so many little girls just _like_ you! I'm not a safe person to be around!" Natasha exploded. Alicia flinched but didn't back away - her father had been a psychotic terrorist - she wasn't afraid of a little anger.

"Clint said that it doesn't matter what you've done in your past as long as you spend the rest of your life making up for it," Alicia said carefully. Natasha's eyes darkened.

"I'm not Clint, Alicia. _I'm not like him_," Natasha said with a haunted tone as she covered her face with her hands and blocked her view of the cute little girl standing in front of her. _Why doesn't she just go away?_

"I liked you Natasha. I thought you were cool and pretty and I wanted to be just like you," Alicia said quietly. Natasha tensed.

"Don't talk about things you don't understand Alicia - no one would want to be me -_ I_ don't even want to be me," Natasha said with a darkness simmering behind her words.

"Who do you want to be then Natasha?" Alicia asked softly. _Who can you be except yourself?_

"I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing right now Alicia," Natasha said tiredly. Alicia twirled her pink umbrella for a few minutes until she finally built the courage to ask her most burning question.

"Why are you out here Natasha?" Alicia asked quietly. Natasha angrily gripped her jeans and gritted her teeth.

"I needed to get away from some things," she said stiffly.

"Where is he?" Alicia asked carefully. Natasha tensed.

"Not here," Natasha said guardedly. Alicia narrowed her eyes.

"Are you running away from him?" Alicia asked leaning forward and searching the Russian assassin's eyes. Natasha was so uncomfortable it was practically written on her face.

"Not yet," she muttered. Alicia frowned prettily.

"You should go back to him. Running solves nothing. I've seen it enough to know that," Alicia said quietly. Natasha was about to respond when her alarm went off.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. _

Natasha's eyes flashed down at her watch that told her she had to start running now if she wanted to get back before her 3 hours were up. She stared at the little circular screen for a long moment when suddenly the rain drops were no longer touching her face. She glanced up and found a pink umbrella blocking the rain from over her head. She looked down at the owner and found her holding the umbrella out for Natasha to take.

"I still think you're awesome," Alicia whispered with a warm smile.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: ACK! I still think Alicia is cute. Amnesia Clint is going to drive Natasha insane - or is he?**

**Natasha has 5 seconds to make her decision - could she really live without him after everything they're been through together? **

**I wrote the next chapter. Ha ha let me know what you think!**

**Also I'm leaving for New York for a week...so yeah the next chapter is the last chapter for a little while. Sorry! It's a less angsty chapter then this one! Amnesia Clint and Natasha get to have their little talk...which is not so little but meh.**


	103. Chapter 103

**I dare you **

**Chapter 103**

Coulson was sitting in his office desk staring intensely at his watch as the seconds hand ticked closer and closer to the 9 pm - it's been 2 hours and 59 minutes since he has last seen Natasha Romanoff. He knew if she was coming back she would come back exactly on time and not a second sooner or later.

_Tick. _

_Tick. _

_Tick. _

_Tick _

_Ding_.

The second the minute hand moved he heard a light knock on his office door and his chest filled with hope. He stared at the door as the knob turned and the metal hinge creaked as it slowly swung open to reveal a _gigantic drowning red rat_.

Or a completely soaked ex-Russian assassin.

"You're not going to talk to him looking like that are you?" Coulson asked warily while giving her a weak smile to defuse some of mounting tense. Natasha snorted as her shoulders relax ever so slightly. She was learning that there were more people at SHIELD then just her partner who she can let her guard down around and trust them not to stab her in the back.

Not that there were a _lot_ of those people - but there were a few more now than in the past.

"No. I'm going to change into my scary uniform and then I'll take a crack at him," she replied _so_ much more calmly then 3 hours. Coulson stared at her in awe.

Damn she _really_ knows how to lock things down.

The fact that it took 3 _hours_ of mental self-coaching said something about how much self control and mental strength it took her to appear as genuinely calm as she did. Coulson wasn't born yesterday though - he knew deep down she was still shaken by the fact that her partner has reverted to 20 year old who doesn't know who she is. He knew she was off balance even more because Barton was never just her partner - he was her mental touchstone and he was _gone_.

They were going to get him back though - they had the best scientists in the world.

Coulson silently picked up a towel from the drawer on his left and tossed it to her - Natasha caught it instantly and started drying her dripping wet hair.

"He won't try and kill you so be _nice_," Coulson said warningly. Natasha raised an eyebrow from under the fluffy towel.

She was nice to _no one - _not even her partner. Whatever they had wasn't fueled by _nice_ it was fueled by mutual _need_.

"As if he could. What did you tell him?" she asked cautiously. She crossed her fingers that he didn't share anything she wasn't ready to talk about with her partner - regardless of his mental status. Coulson's eyes grew weary.

_Oh that boy was going to be slaughtered alive by a spider. _

"Nothing about you really other than your code name and that you saved his life - I'm leaving your story for you to tell him," Coulson said reassuringly. Natasha rolled her eyes.

"How courteous of you Bar-Coulson," she said, quickly correcting herself. Natasha cursed her messed up brain on the inside - she must be _really_ out of it if she made a rookie slip like that. Coulson just gave her a sad knowing smile.

"We'll start working on finding a way to regain his memories as soon as we can," he said firmly. Natasha instantly tensed and glared at him as she dropped the towel to the floor.

"How do you know he didn't just lose them forever?" she asked guardedly. Natasha doesn't hope - there was no such thing as hope. There were just facts and probability. Coulson gave her a steady look.

"Because the side effects of the virus are still lingering on him - which means something is still messing with his head and we need to figure out a way to flush it out," he said very carefully. Natasha took a deep breath - _stupid virus was still screwing with their lives._

"Where is Yago?" she asked menacingly. She still had a bone to pick with the bastard who shot her dead and caused her partner to develop god damn amnesia. Coulson saw the red hot anger flash across her eyes and took a careful breath.

"In SHIELD high security prison underground holding facility outside of the city," Coulson replied cautiously. Natasha clenched her hands into fists.

"It's been 2 months since Romania - _why is he still alive?_" Natasha asked carefully. Coulson took a deep breath as he prepared to tell her the truth - after everything she has done for SHIELD she deserves the truth.

"The Director keeps his promises - you get one bullet and 20 minutes in a room alone with Yago. He's still alive because of you," Coulson said firmly. Natasha blinked - the retribution for all the people's lives that bastard has taken in one single bullet?

_It wasn't nearly enough_ - but it was the humane thing to do. Torture just wasn't justifiable - she would have to learn to understand that if she wanted to continue working for an organization like SHIELD. Coulson's expression suddenly turned serious.

"You can go before you see Barton or after you see Barton - but listen to me Natasha. _You are going to see him_," Coulson said firmly. Natasha stiffened.

"He doesn't remember me Coulson," Natasha said tensely. Coulson narrowed his eyes.

"It doesn't matter - you should still go down there and introduce yourself. Tell him you are his partner. Tell him something about yourself. Make a good impression on him - and then you can go kill Yago," Coulson said firmly.

"_Why_ do I have to do that?" Natasha asked guardedly. She promised to come back - not that she would meet him. Coulson placed both his hand flat against his desk and stared Romanoff dead in the eye.

"For his sanity. For my sanity. And for your _own_ sanity. Natasha, for _god's_ sake go see your partner and the man you _died_ for," Coulson said heatedly. Natasha shook in place as she balled her hands into fists.

"He doesn't _remember_!" she shouted angrily. Coulson's eyes flashed.

"Then _remind_ him Natasha! You are the most important thing in his _life_ - just because he doesn't remember everything that has happened between you two doesn't mean his feelings aren't still _there_!" Coulson said angrily. Natasha's eyes darkened as she took a sudden step back.

"I'll talk to him before I leave - but I'm not bringing anything about _that_ up. I'm not going to tell him anything beyond the fact that we are strictly SHIELD partners," Natasha said with single minded determination. Coulson narrowed his eyes.

"But you're not just partners Natasha - and he'll figure it out. He is just mentally younger - but he is _not_ stupid. When he stops cracking half ass jokes he is very sharp," Coulson said seriously.

"I'm a good actress - he won't know," Natasha said shaking her head. _She won't let him see anything_. Coulson frowned.

"You're not _that_ good Romanoff - your natural instincts have been tuned to let down barriers around him," Coulson said carefully. Natasha instantly stiffened.

"How the _hell_ do you know that?" she hissed as she clenched her hands into fists. Coulson gave her an _are you kidding me?_ look.

"It's my _job_ to know my agents Natasha - and I know you two very well just by how you interact with each other. You _revolve_ around each other - and the Barton that is in there is going to notice the difference between a random female SHIELD agent standing in front of him and the woman that means _everything_ to him," Coulson said firmly.

Natasha might be in general denial about the sheer depth of her own feelings and not know _how much_ she really means to Barton - but Coulson did. Clint had reached a dangerous point where he'd follow her anywhere and do almost anything to keep her safe and keep her _happy_. He cared about her happiness - because Natasha had so few happy memories in her life to being with. He wanted to give her everything.

He just doesn't remember _why_ he feels like that.

"This is exactly why I didn't want to see him," Natasha muttered under her breath. Too many emotions running high scared the shit out of her. Coulson narrowed his eyes. She was _not_ allowed to run away from him.

"You're going to see him and that is _final_," Coulson said darkly. Natasha stiffened.

"Are you ordering me?" she asked carefully. Coulson's expression hardened.

"Don't make me pull rank Natasha," he said warningly. Natasha's eyes flashed.

"What makes you think I'll listen to rank?" Natasha asked stiffly. Coulson gave her a measured look.

"Your unrepayable debt to me and to SHIELD - not because we saved your life - but because we saved his as well. Do you know how hard it was to justify trying to save an agent who was as far gone as he was and who had almost next to _no_ chance of survival? Do you know how hard I had to fight for him?" Coulson asked heatedly. Natasha tensed - _she didn't know they were debating on if he was worth it or not_. Coulson narrowed his eyes. "You were easy to fight for - you're a chemically enhanced assassin and even if you were shot your body naturally helped speed up the healing process. Barton has nothing - he was shutting down. Even if he lost his memories he is awake Natasha - he's really _awake_ and being a gigantic pain in my ass too," he said with a slight scowl. "But I know his life is more important to you than your own, so you are obligated to _listen_ to me Natasha," Coulson said with finality. If doing what was right for Clint made him look like a evil bastard in her eyes he really _didn't care_. Natasha's eyes flashed even if she knew he was right - _he was_ _so right._

They could have lost him completely - they nearly did.

"You fight dirty Coulson," she muttered darkly. Coulson shook his head.

"He deserves to see you even if he doesn't know you," he said firmly. Natasha scowled.

"I'm going to scare the _shit_ out of him," she vowed ominously before she spun around and stalked out of Coulson's office and headed straight for the medical bay. The moment she disappeared around the corner Coulson slumped in his seat in exhaustion.

"Oh dear god this is a nightmare," Coulson muttered as he held his arm over his eyes.

.

.

.

.

.

10 minutes.

She stood in front of his medical room for 10 minutes. It took her 10 _minutes_ to build enough courage to open the door.

What does _that_ say about her?

The second she _did_ open the door Clint's head turned to the side and they locked eyes together - it nearly knocked the breath out of her lungs because it was _him_ - but there was no recognition in his eyes. She wanted to turn around and _bolt_ - but Coulson's words chained her to this room like iron shackles.

_He deserves to see you. _

Even if you can barely stand to see _him_.

"Hi," Natasha said as she stepped into the room dressed in her full SHIELD uniform. She had changed out of her wet civilian clothes before she came down here. While she was off sulking for a few hours Clint was finally freed from all the wires he had been hooked up to for weeks and now he was finally starting to get some colour back into his face as he sat at the edge of his bed with his feet dangling over the side. He was also trying _really_ hard not to stare.

Because damn she was _pretty_.

"Um...hi...again," he said awkwardly as he rubbed the back of his head. Natasha gave him a wary look at his uncharacteristic shyness - the Barton she knew was a cocky sarcastic asshole.

And surprisingly that was how she liked him.

"My name is Natasha Romanoff," she said quietly holding her hand out for him to shake.

She has never really offered her hand to anyone in her life with the honest _respect_ the gesture entitles before him - but he didn't need to know that. Clint took a deep breath as he stared at her hand like it was on fire or laced with poison.

She wondered what he was thinking as he started to sweat a little at the corner of his forehead. He seemed to finally decide that he was going to man up and not leave her hanging after a grand total of 20 seconds of blatant staring at her hand.

"Hi agent Romanoff...my name is Clint Barton...," he said cautiously accepting her offered hand and giving it a firm shake.

Natasha instantly inhaled a sharp breath - this was the first time she's touched her partner in _two months_. She wanted him to wrap his strong archer arms around her and crush her to his chest while burying his hands in her hair like she knew he would have if this was any other situation - but she knew _this_ Clint probably thought she was trying to figure out how to kill him. Her eyes grew slightly weary - she wondered what he would do if he found out she pushed him out of a direct head shot and took a fatal hit for him.

Meanwhile Clint was simply trying extremely hard to keep his eyes trained on her face and not an inch lower - _she was really pretty damn it._ He was a severely sex-deprived mentally 20 year old - _leave him alone_.

He was also rapidly evaluating her on the spot. Everything he knew about the Black Widow pointed to the fact that she was a ruthless, heartless, efficient _sadistic_ killer who enjoyed her kills and excelled at mental and physical torture, interrogation and brutally messy up close assassinations.

All he saw right now was another agent just like him.

What he _didn't_ see was that Natasha _had _been every single one of those unpleasant things mentioned in her files that red flagged her in the first place - the difference was that she wasn't like that anymore. She's been changing and distancing herself from that part of her past for months now. What Clint was seeing right now was the result of nearly 11 months of his own personal persistence and affect on her personality.

Damn the danger reports were _dead wrong_ and he could see that from just taking one look at her.

"I don't know who you are agent Romanoff - but something tells me I should," Clint said quietly staring at her small cool hand still wrapped in his larger warm one. They felt like polar opposites and yet he could feel her heart rate start speeding up involuntarily. That wasn't what _really_ worried him though - what worried him was that he was feeling something weird twist in his chest the longer he stared at her.

He felt like he was missing something _big_.

Natasha stood there stiffly as she practically burned holes into his head. She knew he was silently making his own impression of her without her having to say a word - you don't need to talk to figure out everything you needed to know about someone's threat level.

Speaking of threat level Clint suddenly felt his own heart rate spike - it had nothing to do with how attractive she was. It had everything to do with that fact that he didn't feel threatened _at all_. In fact she made him feel some twisted version of _safe_ and a downright _terrifying_ peaceful feeling he's never felt in his _life_ - _what the hell was wrong with him?_

"How do you know that if you don't remember anything?" she asked quietly. Despite his internal turmoil and utter confusion with his mixed up feelings for this unknown woman Clint gave her a weak friendly smile.

"Because you are looking at me like I hold the center of your world in the palm of my hand - and no offense, but that is kind of _weird_," Clint said honestly. Women don't flock him - he usually avoids beautiful women like her and prefers to watch them from somewhere up high instead - it's not like he had a shot with anyone at her stature anyway. Why would someone as pretty as her want someone as beaten up and rugged like him?

It didn't make any sense.

Natasha stared at him for a full 5 seconds - _damn Coulson was right - he was sharp_.

Damage control time.

"You still have a damn big ego if you think you're _anywhere_ near the center of my world agent Barton," she said flatly which instantly broke the tense moment. Clint snorted and immediately dropped her hand before he did something she might kill him for. She wasn't a threat - but he didn't doubt she was still an insane level of dangerous to his health if he provoked her.

"I've _always_ had an ego," he said with a familiar grin. Something twisted in her chest when he flashed her that boyish grin of his - it was almost like she was talking to _her_ Clint.

_You know you're lying Tasha - you get hot under the collar when I tease you with my personal cocky style. _

"It just got bigger and more annoying to deal with as you got older," she said frankly. Clint scoffed as he waved his hand dismissively at her. She blinked - his mannerisms were different.

"That is _awesome_ - the bigger the ego the greater the man!" he said with a familiar cocky smirk that nearly blew her away.

_I told you you'd miss me if I disappeared one day Tasha. _

Shit - this was a lot harder then she thought.

"Okay Mr. Narcissistic - any questions?" she asked schooling her face to be professionally impassive. Clint instantly calmed down and gave her a searching look. She was pretty but he was also a highly trained agent - he could ignore it - mostly.

"Only one really...who are you exactly?" Clint asked carefully. Natasha took a deep breath - it was now or never.

"I'm your partner agent Barton," she said steadily. Clint blinked and stood there gobsmacked into silence.

_Damn he did not see that one coming. _

"Sorry Red - I don't do partners. I'm a sniper. I work alone. You might be mistaking me for some other handsome SHIELD agent who is also named Clint Barton," he said dryly. Natasha _stared_ at him.

_I'm being my usual asshole self Tasha -I can't handle the fact that I could ever work with a partner - let alone someone as brilliant at her job like you are. _

"Your jokes are still _crap_ Barton," she said flatly. Clint looked startled at her unexpectedly dry tone.

Damn she was a _cold_ pretty lady.

"You're a rude one Romanoff," he muttered. Natasha smirked.

"You learned to deal with it," she said with a shrug. Clint suddenly looked serious as he gave her a calculative look.

"Prove it then. If we are really partners you should know a ton of crap about me that no one else knows," he said carefully.

_I'm testing you Tasha - I don't believe you. Make me believe you. _

Natasha stood in front of him and crossed her arms across her chest. Oh this was going to be a _long_ day.

"You might not like what I know Barton," she said quietly. Clint snorted and held up his hand.

"Please. It can't be anything that bad - I don't really believe you anyway," he said honestly. He had never had a partner in his entire time with SHIELD - why would he change that all of a sudden? Natasha sharply narrowed her eyes. Maybe she shouldn't be so heartless but she wasn't really in the best state of mind right now.

"You killed your brother when you were 17," she said point blank. That was a verbal kill shot.

Silence.

That instantly made him shut up and wiped the good humour from his expression. She knew he was going to explode before he even inhaled a sharp breath.

_Just because I sound angry doesn't mean I don't believe you Tasha. _

"How the hell do you know that? That is not even in my _files_!" he hissed. Natasha wasn't fazed by his sudden anger - hell Barton got angry at her every other day. This part wasn't really new.

"You told me," she said calmly. Clint practically shook in rage on the bed - she didn't know if getting _this_ angry was on the _not recommended activity_ medical list. She could tell he was more angry at himself then at her though.

"Why would I do something like that? I've never told _anyone_ that!" he growled to himself. She froze.

Natasha didn't know that.

_I told you a lot of things I've never told anyone else Tasha. _

"You've also never had a partner before me either," she pointed out in her defense. _Holy crap maybe she shouldn't have started with the big guns._ Clint suddenly froze and she watched _him_ shut down and wipe everything from his face.

"Are you manipulating me?" Clint asked suspiciously. Natasha's face went blank - _was he serious?_

"Does it look like I'm trying to manipulate you Barton?" Natasha asked carefully. Clint stiffened.

_You're starting to scare me because I'm starting to believe you Tasha. _

"Tell me other stuff. Prove to me you're really my partner," Clint said guardedly as he leaned forward and gave her an even _more_ suspicious look - _who are you Natasha Romanoff?_ Natasha took a deep breath - she really hoped she didn't forget any of the details.

"Your worst memories are from your military service in Bosnia. You used to be a bomb diffusal expert but now that type of work is a trigger for you. You've nearly committed suicide by jumping off a bridge but Coulson saved your life and talked you out of it. You've never had a long term relationship. You know 8 languages but you want to learn more. You have hallucinations sometimes after really bad missions. You named your bow Josie. You are left handed-," she could go on for several more minutes but Clint quickly cut her off. He looked pale as ghost.

_Congratulations, you've officially freaked me out Tasha. _

"-_Stop_. Stop. I believe you," Clint whispered shakily. He can't _believe_ he forgot the girl who knew _this_ much about him. Natasha 's eyes grew weary at how shaken up he looked. She didn't really mean to scare him.

"I'm sorry for bombarding you with all of this shocking information overload," she said quietly. _Maybe she should leave._ She watched him take several deep breaths with his face in his hands before he finally seemed to get a hold of himself and looked back up at her.

_I don't want you to leave Tasha. _

"I'm sorry I don't know who you are Natasha," he said regretfully. _He wish he did - he really wish he knew her._ Natasha's face softened slightly at how honestly he meant that. _He still had pieces of her Clint in him._

"It's okay. We'll work it out," she said calmly. Clint gave her a searching look - she didn't know what he was looking for but he seemed to have found it.

_I'm trying to figure out why I feel like I would follow you to the ends of the earth Tasha_.

"Are we still partners?" he asked hesitantly. Natasha paused.

"Do you want to still be partners?" she asked slowly. Clint furrowed his brow - _did he want a partner?_ He was so used to working alone...but the offer was extremely tempting - especially from someone like _her_.

"I want to try...and see why I chose to do it in the first place...," he said quietly. Natasha nodded slowly.

"Okay. Well if you want to figure out if you like being partners with me...Wanna break out of here and come with me to an underground SHIELD prison to shoot a bullet through the forehead of the guy who did this to us?" she said with a extremely dark and deadly look on her face. _Clint's_ face practically lit up like Christmas tree.

"_That_...that is the _best_ thing I've heard all day Romanoff. You are my new favorite person," Clint said honestly with _glee_ shining in his blue eyes. Someone who actually had the balls to bust him out of here - _yes_!

_Epic assassin bonding over a common enemy. _

"Great - the first thing you need is _pants_," Natasha deadpanned. Clint's eyes instantly shot downwards towards the ugly hospital gown he was still wearing. Well...she had a point.

"Don't really have anything under this, so you're going to have to wait outside while I acquire my shirt and pants," Clint said warily. Natasha froze.

"You're walking around _commando_?" she asked in disgusted. Clint had the decency to look slightly sheepish.

"Maybe you don't want to know the answer to that question Miss Romanoff," he said with a cheeky smile. Natasha tried desperately to keep the flush from showing on her face, but she thinks she failed simply because it was so _him_.

_I'm starting to like you - you're fascinating Tasha. _

"That's it. I'm leaving without you!" she growled as she spun around ready to _bolt_ without him when a solid grip on both her forearms halted her hasty retreat. Natasha nearly got lightheaded from his close proximity near her back. It's been a _really_ long time since she's touched him.

"No - _take me with you Natasha_," he said seriously, and for a second he sounded _so_ much like _her_ Clint, that she nearly kissed him right then and there - but she didn't want to freak him out so she beat down the urge and told herself to _get a grip woman_.

"_Okay_," she breathed out as he turned her around. Clint flashed her a brilliant smile that nearly blinded her. For a few seconds she didn't register what exactly she was supposed to do.

God the crazy things being away from the man you're infatuated with does to you when he's back in your orbit.

"You kind of have to leave the room for me to change Romanoff," Clint suddenly said teasingly. Natasha nearly rammed into a _wall_ in her hast to _flee_ the room.

_Are your feelings out of sync yet Tasha? I know mine are. _

"_Shit_!" Natasha muttered as she flew out the door. Familiar laughter rang in her ears - she hasn't heard him laugh in _months_.

"Did I distract you with my dashing good looks _that_ much Romanoff?" Clint called out after her with amusement dancing in his eyes. He instantly ducked as the remote control for his TV flew through the doorway and nearly _smacked_ him in the head. Natasha huffed in the doorway.

"_Pants_ Barton! Otherwise you're orchestrating your medical breakout on your _own_!" she threatened severely. Clint laughed as he closed the door in her face and went over to his bed to pull on his SHIELD issued cargo pants.

_You always make me laugh you know Tasha? _

"Yes Sir, Romanoff...Sir..._damn_, what do I call you exactly?" Clint asked a bit louder than normal so that she could hear him through the barrier. Natasha leaned her back against the door and closed her eyes as she took several deep breaths. _He was so much like his older self it was killing her._ She wanted his awkward uncomfortable hugs and intense kisses. She wanted his horrible jokes and his incessant teasing. She wanted to see him drop his masks and show her _exactly_ how much he cared for her with just his intense blue eyes. She wanted him _back_.

_I'm still here Tasha_. _I'm still here. You just gotta find me_. A familiar voice whispered in her ear.

She wanted her partner back - _the real one._

_She would do anything to get his memories back. _

"Natasha is fine," she said quietly through the door. Clint furrowed his brow at the unexpected change in her tone.

"No nickname?" he asked curiously. Natasha smiled wryly.

_Whoever said history repeats itself is a damn genius. _

"Maybe you'll figure one out," she said softly.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: So we had some humor with the angst!YAY? Trust me it gets better! They were even flirting! And he didn't try to kill her haha! Unlike Natalia. **

**Now...let's deal with Yago. This bastard needs to die. Clint and Natasha need to figure out how to work through their temporary out of sync feelings and Clint needs his damn memories back. **

**All in good time.**

**Natasha's inner Clint voice is heart breaking! Can you tell how much she actually misses him? She misses him so much she's hearing his voice in her head.  
**


	104. Chapter 104

**I Dare You**

**A/N: This is a fun chapter! Well...just read it and you'll understand haha.**

**Escape time.**

**.**  
**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 104 **

After Clint finally managed to cover his ass and put on his own uniform he let Natasha back into his room and they both had their game faces on - because it was so much easier to talk to each other when they ignored everything they were feeling on the inside. Clint didn't want to deal with the scary confusing emotions she seemed to evoke in him and Natasha didn't want to deal with this situation at all. She didn't know what to feel about her partner forgetting about her - so she chose not to feel any of it at all until further notice.

They had a target that's been waiting two months to die after all. Shouldn't keep him waiting right?

"So...how do you want to play this exactly? How do we get out of here without every single agent in this base on our ass?" he asked as he leaned against his medical room wall across from his cursed bed- he was sick of lying down or sitting around. He has been immobile for weeks - he wanted to get _out_ of here. And even if he didn't really trust Widow regardless of the fact that he had no option but to believe she was his partner - she was definitely his best ticket out of this white and sterile prison. The sad thing was that he was in no condition to fight anyone - he didn't even think he could throw a decent punch right now. He needed air - he needed to be somewhere away from doctors. He needed her help.

He wasn't above using her to get out of his SHIELD doctor's clutches.

Natasha knew all of this - but she went along with it because she really couldn't blame him for treating her like a escaping tool. It was what she would have done in his place.

"We need a distraction," Natasha said simply as she sat down cross legged on his bed and fished out her personal non-SHIELD phone from her pocket.

Clint raised an eyebrow.

"_Really_?" he asked dryly. She was amusing - really amusing. Natasha gave him a pointed look with her phone held to her ear.

_Ring._

Ring.

Click.

"Hello Dr. Conroy? I need a favour," Natasha said into her phone as she looked away from her amnesiac partner.

_Bang._

_Clank._

_Boom._

Just from the background noise Natasha could tell Conroy was in SHIELD engineering doing things that necessitated him to work in a nearly indestructible explosion-proof lab under the base. She's heard he doesn't emerge from that lab for days on end sometimes.

Talk about obsessive workaholic. Conroy would even give agent Hill a run for her money.

Now _that_ is scary.

"Woman! You haven't talked to me since Italy and now you suddenly have my personal cell number and want a favour?" Conroy asked in disbelief as he stared at his phone through his welding mask covered in grease and gun powder from head to toe. Natasha smiled slightly. She really liked this scientist - mostly because he has absolutely no interest in her whatsoever - there was only one man whose interest she really wanted...back.

"Come on Conroy - don't tell me you're not happy where you are. SHIELD gives you all the toys and freedom within reason don't they?" Natasha asked quickly gesturing to her curious looking partner to hand her the tablet on the side table she left here when he initially woke up and freaked her out. Clint picked up her personal tablet and looked at it for a second before he shook his head and passed it to her.

Technology was _weird_.

"Yes, you were right about that - people are no longer trying to kidnap me...or if they are SHIELD are keeping them away...," he said insightfully. Natasha knew for a fact that many people have tried to break into SHIELD to get this one man - but they had the best agents in the world and it was futile trying to break into a intelligence organization like SHIELD - the only way to pull the rug from underneath SHIELD is if one of their own turned on them and led a mutiny against them.

Imagine if one of their best got turned into a flying monkey and was used to take down his own organization.

_Wouldn't that be something? _

"So - are we good Conroy?" Natasha asked as she broke through SHIELD firewalls within seconds and hacked into Conroy's files. When his profile popped up she scanned through his recent SHIELD activities over the last little while. He was doing fine, building SHIELD some of their best weapons and diffusing just as many weapon threats that pop up every now and then. He was extremely useful in their line of work.

No wonder they made her and Barton save this man's life.

"I don't like where this is going - but I'll humour you. What do you want Romanoff?" Conroy asked as he put his tools down and took a seat on his lab bench as he pulled his own laptop towards him. Natasha smirked slightly - she got him hooked on curiosity.

"A small loud but non-destructive explosion outside of medical to keep everyone busy for about 10 minutes?" she asked cautiously. Clint literally _banged_ his forehead against the wall and gave her a look - _are you serious_? She ignored him.

_Silence_.

She crossed her fingers and hoped the man had morals as sketchy as she did.

"You owe me for this you know that right?" Conroy finally said with a suspicious air about him. Natasha nearly rolled her eyes - oh she knew his type.

"What do you want Conroy?" Natasha asked with a sigh. She never knew was crazy asexual scientists would want from an assassin like her. Conroy's face practically lit up like a light bulb.

"I want you to come down to my lab and test some of my newer firearms and gadgets I have been working on for SHIELD agents field work," Conroy said barely managing to mask the utter excitement in his voice. Natasha blinked - she loved guns as much as the next assassin - but experimental weapons was pushing it.

"Is that even _safe_?" Clint muttered cautiously from behind her but made no further comment.

Natasha paused as her partner didn't really make a fuss about this deal like she knew _her_ Clint would. Her Clint would steal her phone right out of her hand and threaten Conroy within an inch of his life if he dared put her life in danger. _Huh_. Maybe there was something good about amnesia after all.

But the temporary freedom from his over protectiveness wasn't worth losing everything else. Sometimes she even thinks she _liked_ his over protectiveness. It was how she knew he cared.

But she would _shoot_ herself before she ever told _him_ that.

"Are they going to self destruct on me?" Natasha asked warily. She heard a loud _crash_ followed by a string of cursing in German, French and Italian. She was slightly impressed - the man knew his foreign swear words.

"Um...not the stage 4 ones? I usually test them myself before I get other people who are familiar with weapons to try it out and tell me what needs fixing or tweaking," Conroy said rather reasonably.

"Can't we just make our _own_ distraction?" Clint asked warily. Natasha glanced up at him from her tablet and shook her head.

"Not really - Coulson is watching the security cameras in the hall," Natasha muttered in reply. Clint sighed - clever handlers knew they would try to escape. Coulson was a really good agent - but they were getting better _really_ fast.

One day they were going to be the best.

The spy and the soldier - two assassins who were lost in the world of red, but if they had each other to be lost with, it wasn't so bad. Natasha took a deep breath and decided to accept Conroy's offer despite the fact that she knew when she got Clint back he was going to eat her alive.

Deep down she thinks she even _liked_ when he was angry at her. No one got angry at her because they were truly worried about _her_ - most people worry about the mission or the objective or their own personal gain. After 11 months she didn't really doubt his motives anymore - it was pretty obvious he fumed at her simply because he _cared_.

"Alright I'll come down when I'm not busy running around. Right now I have ex-SHIELD commanders to kill and amnesiac partners to fix. Now...explosion?" Natasha asked expectantly into her phone. She heard the weapons specialist laugh deeply.

"Oh honey - I can do better than _that_," he said with a devious grin in his voice.

.

.

.

.

.

.

_10 minutes later_.

Two assassins had their ear pressed against Barton's recovery room door and were trying not to catch the other's eye as they waited for some type of signal that told them the distraction had worked.

_Creak._

_Boom._

_Clank. _

_Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh_.

"Is that it?" Clint asked warily. What kind of distraction was that? It wasn't even causing a _riot_. Natasha gave him a warningly look that said _- be quiet it's coming.  
_  
"Wait for it," she said as she leaned her ear back against the door.

_Woosh_.

"What is that...?" Clint asked cautiously taking a step away from the door. Natasha rolled her eyes - he was such a baby.

"WHO FLOODED MY MEDICAL BAY?" an angry SHIELD doctor bellowed down the hall. Clint and Natasha both glanced down and watched the water start seeping through the cracks under the door and shared a wary look.

"I CAN'T TURN OFF THE UNDERGROUND PIPPING SIR!" a random agent shouted in panic.

"DO YOU WANT TO BE FIRED? SOMEONE ONE STOP THIS INFERNAL DISASTER RIGHT NOW!" the doctor demanded. Natasha snorted.

"I _respect_ that insane weapons expert," she said with devious smirk. Clint stared at her for a second - damn she could be evil.

"You are all crazies here," Clint muttered as he rubbed his hands over his face. Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Barton, I have been working for SHIELD for 11 months - your _entire_ organization is full of crazies," she said dryly a she pushed herself away from the door and quickly made her way back towards his bed. He watched her walk past him and beat down the piss off worthy flutter his chest made - _seriously, what the hell was wrong with him?_

"Is that our cue to move?" Clint asked warily trying to cover up his slip. Natasha nodded without looking back at him - his obvious staring really wasn't helping her focus.

"Definitely - couldn't have done that one better myself. Let's go," Natasha said as she tugged a black backpack out from under his bed and unzipped it so that she could dump her tablet into the bag. Clint leaned forward and took a closer look at the contents - he thinks he was in love.

"You have Josie_,_" Clint said in genuine quiet happiness showing on his face as he stared at his beloved compact bow. Natasha sighed bitterly - dear god his unhealthy borderline romantic attachment to his weapon of choice bugged her every time.

No she was _not_ jealous - she would shoot anyone who said otherwise - including him.

"Yeah sure whatever - also hold still," she said as she instantly appeared in front of him with a suspicious booster shot looking needle in her hand. Clint instantly paled.

"Wait _what_-" he started to say in panic - _oh dear god she was going to kill him after all._ Natasha ignored his panic and just stabbed him in the arm with the booster. No big deal.

_Zap_.

Except for the electric shock of course.

"_Ahhh_! What the hell was that?" Clint exclaimed in alarm as he nearly jumped a foot in the air. Natasha gave him a bored look - he was so dramatic - even his younger self.

"Energy booster - you look like _shit_," she said frankly as she tossed the booster onto the bed and picked up her backpack so that she could sling it over her shoulder. _Now_ they were ready to escape.

Clint gave her a wary look - there was something seriously wrong with his partner...she was kind of psychotic.

"There is something called asking before you stick a needle with an unknown substance in someone Natasha...," he muttered irritably. He was _not_ happy - not happy _at all_. Natasha sighed and tiled her head to the side. She refused to apologize - but she would make him feel slightly better.

"Would you have let me do that if I had asked?" she asked quietly. Clint paused and actually considered her question.

"No - I hate drugs," he muttered truthfully. Natasha gave him a _long_ look.

"Do you feel better?" she asked honestly wanting to know. Clint shifted awkwardly under her genuine concerned gaze - it was _weird_. No one but Coulson has ever truly worried about him.

"I don't want to answer that," he muttered stubbornly looking away from her pretty green eyes. Natasha promptly _rolled_ her eyes.

Translation: _Yeah I kind of do but I don't want to tell you because I am a stubborn little jackass like that._

Ugh. Men.

"Keep lying to yourself Hawkboy - I'm smarter than you think. Let's go," Natasha said flatly before she spun around and yanked open the door before she stalked down the hall and quickly weaved her way through the wet madness that was currently taking over the SHIELD medical halls. No one was paying any attention to the speeding Russian agent hell bent on walking right out the front door without being stopped by any doctors - they were all busy trying to stop the flood that caused a water level of about 2 inches up to their ankles.

She really needed to give Conroy a gift basket - this was amazing.

"Hey! Wait for me Widow!" Clint called out from behind her.

Natasha nearly rammed into a crowd of agents when he called her that. She spun on the heels of her boots and _glared_ at him. His breath caught in his throat at the sheer annoyance flashing in her angry green eyes. He felt momentarily lightheaded as his blood rushed south and he froze at the unintended reaction.

What the hell? Who got turned on by raging Russians anyway?

_You do sucker. _

"_Seriously_ - if you want to survive even one day with me you will _not_ call me that or I will stab you with something a lot more painful than a booster," she growled threateningly. Clint simply rolled his eyes - she was so freaking _violent_ with her empty words.

"Fine whatever you say Red - but you can't honestly say I haven't made a name up for you. What do I call you other then Natasha?" he asked seriously. Natasha huffed as they were surrounded by the chaos of SHIELD agents freaking out and trying to call for back up - most likely they needed a plumber more then a base full of militarily trained agents.

"A nickname," she muttered stubbornly looking away. It was her favourite name she ever had out of all the fake identities and names she has used throughout her spy life. Natasha wasn't even her real name, neither was Natalia- she didn't really have a name that didn't have negative connotations attached to it.

"What is it?" he asked instantly wanting to know. Natasha swiftly started moving again and refused to answer his question.

It was the one thing she would not tell him. She didn't want him to call her that.

_You only want me to call you Tasha when I know everything we've been through together right Tasha?_

"I'm not telling you _shit_ and that's final!" she called over her shoulder as she strategically bulldozed through the agents in the hall blocking her from her destination _- the exit._

"That's not fair Romanoff!" Clint huffed in frustration as he quickly caught up to her. Natasha snorted.

She really didn't care about fairness.

"Too damn bad," she said with finality. Clint scowled at her as he silently followed her down the wet flooded halls. She could feel his razor sharp sniper stare burning into the back of her head as they weaved around the agents in the hall without drawing attention to themselves at all. She knew she was like a mystery to him right now and he was trying to figure her out.

Even the Barton _she_ knew was still trying to figure her out so amnesia Clint was going to have no luck in that department.

"Are we always this flashy in your escapes?" Clint asked under his breath. Natasha nearly _laughed_ at him - he should see some of their really cringe worthy mission escapes - sometimes they barely escaped with their uniforms still in tacked.

"No - most of the time we fight dirty and then escape by the skin of our teeth. This is child's play," she said gesturing to the chaos around them. Clint's eyes grew weary - how bad were their missions anyway?

"Where did agent Barton _go_?" a nurse shrieked in alarm from around the corner.

The two master assassins both froze - they were caught.

_Oh shit._

"Get your ass through the door _now Barton_!" Natasha hissed as she practically _dragged_ his weak ass out of the base side exit. Clint was so bewildered by the fact that her pretty red hair practically _crackled_ like it had a mind of its own that he didn't even mind the manhandling. He feels like she must manhandle him a lot if it felt _that_ familiar.

It was not their most discreet escape - but it was enough to tell Coulson they were going to be fine and they didn't want to be tracked by him or anyone else at SHIELD for at least a few hours. Natasha knew Fury and Hill will be _demanding_ debrief with a finally conscious agent Barton eventually though. She hoped she could fix him before they had to do a status report - otherwise they were going to have a problem.

Right now she just needed him to herself for a few hours before all that shit started. She needed to confirm that no matter what happened with his memories they could still work together.

_Because we'll always be partners before everything else - isn't that right Tasha?_

Natasha tried _really_ hard not to let that one knock the breath out of her lungs as she grabbed his arm and _dragged_ him down the street. She let a cold determination fill her mind and block out all the other messy emotions she was feeling underneath her mask.

He was her partner - she was _always_ going to watch his back.

.

.

.

.

.

.

20 minutes after that disastrous escape from their own people (it's not _really_ an escape if SHIELD is choosing to courtesy not send a kill squad after one of their best teams who just want to be left alone for a few hours) two awkward assassins were both strapped into a discreet black SUV and cruising down a highway out of the city and in the direction of a high security prison that technically didn't exist on the map.

Frankly, SHIELD and all their operatives _didn't_ exist - and yet here they were. Natasha was driving with a failing impassive expression on her face as she tried to keep the rising annoyance she was feeling at bay.

Repeat - _failing_.

If you expected the ride to be painfully silent you weren't the only one. Natasha sort of _wished_ he would give her the silent treatment again - that was better than the torture she was being subjected to right now.

"Nat?" he said very seriously - it was his 5th try at this point. Natasha's expression instantly darkened.

Oh he did _not_ just go there.

"_No_," she said through gritted teeth. That was definitely not _her_ name. Clint noticed her dark mood and quickly moved on - clearly she did not like that nickname.

"Tash?" he tried again. Natasha tensed ever so slightly - but he noticed the stiffness in her shoulders. He must be closer.

"No," she said slowly. _Damn that one was close_. A determined expression slid over his face.

"Ash?" he guessed as he watched her expression with careful detail-oriented eyes. Natasha whipped her head to the side and stared daggers at him as she gripped the steering wheel tight enough to almost break it in half.

"God _no_!" she exclaimed as the irritation finally started to spill over. Clint huffed and breathed steadily through his nose to keep his _own_ irritation in check. _If she would just tell him they wouldn't be doing this..._

"Nattie?" he guessed as a last resort. Natasha wanted to bang her head against the steering wheel in frustration - or more likely she wanted to bang _his_ big fat head against the steering wheel.

Several times.

Until he got a satisfying concussion.

Just because she'd work her ass off to keep him alive doesn't mean she doesn't want to grab him and hurt him _herself_.

"_Barton_...," she said warningly. She was going to _strangle_ him before he got his damn memories back and realized just how much pain she could cause him without killing him or breaking anything important. Clint finally huffed - he was _fed_ up.

"What _is_ it woman?" he demanded with flashing sharp eyes. Natasha viciously glared at him as she kept driving - they still had another 20 minutes of this suffocating madness.

"I'm not _telling_ you," Natasha hissed stubbornly. If he can't get her name right it was his _own_ problem. He gave it to her once - he should be able to do it again.

Barton finally cracked and promptly dropped off the edge of insanity.

"Ugh! It's driving me crazy!" Clint shouted as he nearly pulled out his own hair. For the first time in years Natasha felt like screaming in frustration.

He was such a _child_.

"Calm _down_ Barton, out of all the things that should drive you insane, forgetting a pointless name is _not_ one of them," Natasha said with a stern look. It wasn't his fault he forget it.

_You're lying again Tasha - you don't think your name is pointless._

She really wanted to slap the voice in her head too - now there were _two_ Bartons driving her insane.

Someone please just shoot her now. She would take out her own gun and do the honours herself if he didn't finally, _finally_ calm down and stop pissing her off with his currently extremely annoying voice. Natasha could have even psyched herself out and pretended everything was okay between them if there wasn't this one problem.

He just will not stop _staring_ at her - he has been doing that since she had walked into his recovery room.

"Why do you call me Barton...?" he asked suddenly much quieter. Natasha inhaled a sharp breath. _Why was he doing this to her?_

"Because that is what everyone calls you...," she said tightly. She always calls him Barton when she is not feeling particularly nice thoughts about him or he was pissing her off or she was just talking to him as her partner and nothing else.

She is very good at compartmentalizing what exactly he exists as in her head.

Partner.

Sort of friend.

Permanent thorn in her side.

Not allowed to kill list.

And an unidentifiable category she refuses to name but she assigned to him nonetheless because she doesn't kiss men in any of the other categories.

No one said her mind worked in a sane fashion - but it made her life easier. If she broke him up into different people in her head she could treat him accordingly in the right situation.

It was one thing Clint has not been able to do very well in his own head. In his head she was all the same person - a mix of his partner, Tasha, the Black Widow and even Natalia.

Chaos was ensured.

"Even if we're partners?" he asked warily. Natasha's eyes darkened. She calls him Barton for a reason.

"_Especially_ if we're partners," she said guardedly. Clint felt the weight in her words but didn't catch the true meaning behind them.

"Why?" he asked carefully.

"Professionalism," she muttered as she gripped the steering wheel tighter.

"Do I always call you Romanoff?" he asked doubtfully. If they were exclusive partners for as long as she said they were then there was no way in hell he would call her by her last name for this long. Natasha stiffened but answered him anyway.

"Sometimes...depending on what we're doing exactly and how much I managed to piss you off," she said evenly. Clint blinked.

That was a shocking statement.

Apparently he was allowed to get angry at the Black Widow in their partnership without her out right murdering him for raging at her.

That was_ weird_.

"Do you piss me off often...?" he asked carefully with a raised eyebrow. Natasha didn't even react - that was a given.

"Yes," she said unapologetically. She knew very well she drove Barton batshit insane most of the time - she was still here because he actually _put up_ with her bullshit for a long time.

She didn't really understand _why_ he put up with her though. Maybe it was for the same unknown reason she couldn't leave him with amnesia right now.

Who was she kidding? She wouldn't even leave if he lost an eyeball.

"Whose car is this anyway?" he asked as he glanced around the messy car. There were takeout boxes scattered all over the back seat and random socks on the floor. Natasha scrunched her nose up in distaste - it wasn't _her_ fault the car was a _mess_.

"It's yours," she said distractedly as she searching for the right exit off the highway. She didn't really need a car when she could just steal his when she wanted it. She also might have stolen his keys and made a copy of them. He also might have known she did that but never really made a fuss about it because he knew how she was and it was better than her actually breaking into his car and stealing it anyway. She'd rather _not_ have to make a civilian identity just to get a damn car - it was too much effort when they were rarely in the country for longer than a couple days between missions anyway.

Not having to pay _his_ insanely high insurance bill was a plus.

No one said she wasn't cheap like that - she had better things to use her pay check for. When he fell silent for a few minutes she noiselessly sighed in relief.

Finally - peace and quiet.

For like a minute. He was staring at the dashboard with a peculiar look on his face until he finally glanced up at her.

"How much do we share exactly...?" he asked suddenly. Natasha froze and nearly crashed the car in shock. _How much indeed?_

Oh _shit_.

"You...might not like the answer to that question," she said guardedly. Dear god she didn't even know how much _herself_. They didn't usually have time to think about the small insignificant stuff. It was usually eat, sleep and run for them.

"That sounds sketchy Romanoff," Clint deadpanned. Natasha twitched in response.

"Don't try and pretend we are not sketchy people Barton," she said warningly. Inside she was starting to feel something that felt dangerously close to anxiety. Damn she _really_ didn't want to have this conversation with him right now. She tried to rapidly figure out how to escape being verbally shoved into a corner - but she was too late.

"Next thing you're going to tell me we _live_ together Romanoff," Clint grumbled with a dramatic bang against the window - he missed the alarming look that flashed across her face.

_Cricket...cricket...cricket..._

Natasha opened her mouth to start lying her ass off - but her pause was too long.

"Oh my god - tell me we're not married!" Clint shouted in utter horror. Natasha nearly crashed the car into a tree.

"_NO_! God no! Why the fuck would you think that? We're...roommates?" she tried to make that sound as unsuggestive as possible because honestly they haven't done anything.

Not that they haven't gotten close...

God this was _terrible_.

"Really Romanoff? Roommates?" Clint deadpanned. Natasha scowled at him.

"I had nowhere to live after you dragged my ass half way across the world - so SHIELD said fuck that and I got stuck living with you okay?" she said irritably. That made another question pop up in his head.

"Where did we meet exectly?" Clint asked furrowing his brow.

"Germany," Natasha said with a sigh. Clint raised an eyebrow.

"What were we doing there?" he asked curiously. Natasha paused.

_Truth or half truth._

_Truth or half truth._

_Truth or half truth._

Barton can't handle the truth.

"You were trying to kill me," she said warily. That was half the story at least. Clint's face went deceptively blank.

He was stuck in a moving car...

...with the most dangerous Russian assassin in the world...

...he was once upon a time assigned to kill.

And she has been talking to him like they were best friends or some _shit_ like that.

_What. The. Hell has he been doing over the last year?_

"I _knew_ it!" Clint exclaimed as he roughly _banged_ his fist against his thigh. Natasha pinched the bridge of her nose and willed off a headache.

"Here we go...," she muttered under her breath.

"So...did I kick your ass?" he asked hopefully. Natasha snorted.

"Do I look dead to you?" she asked sarcastically. Clint gave her a long look in return.

"No, but you definitely look like you ditched your old organization and defected to mine," he said simply. Natasha nearly _slammed_ her foot on the breaks so that she could just get out of the car and stomp away.

But she didn't.

Something wouldn't let her.

Something forced her to keep driving even if she didn't want to be here right now.

_You're not going to leave because I would never have left you Tasha. _

Damn he was like her moral compass.

"Maybe I did," she muttered reluctantly. Clint gave her a searching look as he watched a faraway look cross her face.

"Did I offer to take you in?" he asked carefully. Natasha huffed.

"Something like that," she grumbled as she firmly refused to give him any details. Clint didn't push for any though and just continued to watch her drive silently and with a tight air of utterly brilliant control - just like she does her most important assassinations. She was getting used to his staring and just ignored it.

"We're really good friends aren't we?" he asked cautiously going over everything she has told him in the last hour. Natasha felt her heart freeze up - _holy shit she didn't think it would hurt that freaking much_. She took several deep uneven breaths and told herself it was going to be okay. She told herself that no matter what happened she was strong enough to come out of it alive. She told herself she was a god damn Russian assassin and that she could handle anything.

_Almost_ anything...

"Something like that," she repeated quietly as she leaned forward and hide her face behind a curtain of red and blocking his direct view of her.

_You know I always wanted to be more than your friend Tasha._

_Always.  
_

.  
.

.

.

.

**A/N: Natasha is starting to realize how much of their lives off mission have been mushing together without them even realizing it. I also don't think Amnesia Clint is that naive - but he probably thinks they actually follow regulation so he is assuming they are not romantically involved...for now. Yago is up next. That little bugger...**


	105. Chapter 105

**I dare you **

**A/N: PROMISE YAGO IS HERE - sort of. A start. **

**INTENSE :D  
**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 105 **

Natasha finally came to a stop in front of a sharp state of the art glass building about 30 miles outside of the city that looked _nothing_ like a prison compound Clint had been expecting.

But they never did - not until you got inside and knew where you were going.

"I have never seen this building," Clint said carefully as he leaned his head to the side and stared up at the large imposing structure. Natasha nodded cautiously - that was to be expected.

"It was built 3 years ago," she said quietly as she turned off the engine. Clint paused.

"Any particular reason why?" he asked warily. Natasha stared at the steering wheel for a long moment.

"It's not like they tell new agents all that much...but I hacked SHIELD files because I was curious, so I know some of the worst criminals in the world are held here before they are transferred out of the country," she said evenly. Clint twitched as he slowly turned to stare at his partner who he was coming to conclude was sort of on the slightly insane side.

"You hacked my organization's files...just because you were _curious_?" he asked incredulously. Natasha huffed as she stubbornly looked away.

"I wanted to know more about their threat level to me - it was a necessary thing at the time. I didn't know if SHIELD planned to have me _and_ you killed eventually or not. Me, because I was a former target and you because you disobeyed direct orders and committed what most intelligence organizations consider _treason_. I had to be ready for anything - even killing my way out of here," she said carefully.

She was always ready for _every_ single possible scenario.

She was trained to handled everything the enemy could throw at her.

It was the _only_ reason she could still function through this nightmare right now.

"Have you ever killed a SHIELD agent Romanoff?" Clint asked suddenly giving her a sharp look.

Natasha instantly froze and stopped breathing.

_Thump._

_Thump. _

_Thump._

The tension in the car practically _skyrocketed_.

Neither of them knew what to say. Clint was the first to break the unbearable silence.

"I'm sorry. That was going too far," Clint muttered quickly looking away from her completely rigid and closed off form as she stared razor sharp daggers into the dashboard. She hide her eyes behind her bangs and limply dropped her hands to her sides.

"I have," she said emotionlessly before she promptly got out of the car and _slammed_ the door shut behind her. She was _done_ with this shit. Clint took several deep breaths as he tried to wrap his head around what she just said - _holy shit._ He hastily got out himself and rapidly stalked after her.

He couldn't let her runaway.

"_Natasha_," Clint said as he carefully grabbed her arm and stopped her in her place. Natasha clenched her hands into tight balls and steeled her eyes as she stared at the SHIELD high security prison side entrance. She was shaking ever so slightly with barely suppressed rage under her partner's grip. The only reason she held back was because she knew he was still recovering and could not handle her rage right now.

But she wanted to killed that _bastard_ locked up in there.

She wanted to kill Yago _so bad_.

He was ruining her _life_ even if he was currently behind bars and being watched by the best security in the world.

"If you want me to leave just say so and I'll be out of the country within an hour," she said darkly. She wasn't going to stay if he didn't want her here.

She didn't even _want_ to be here.

_You're only still here because you want to see if you can get me back to normal right Tasha? _

Clint stared at his stiff partner who looked ready to bolt and cautiously stepped in front of her to stop her from running on the spot. Something told him if he didn't trend carefully he was going to lose her forever.

Something nearly _stabbed_ him inside when he thought about her disappearing on him, even if he didn't know _why_ he didn't want her to go. It was so hard to understand what he was feeling when he doesn't know _where_ these strong foreign feelings are coming from.

"Was that why I was sent after you?" he asked quietly still holding onto her tightly. Natasha stared holes into the cement floor and sharply shook her head.

"No. The SHIELD agent I killed was unintended and in self defense. He fell off a roof while he was trying to kill _me_ - he died on impact. _You_ were sent after me because I was assigned to kill a German politician SHIELD needed to keep alive," Natasha said quietly. Clint felt like sighing in _relief_ - he didn't know why he felt like that.

He didn't think he could handle having a partner that once actively shot at his own people. He moved his grip from her arms to her shoulders and firmly held her in place. He could feel the tension in her body spike and felt the simmering strength she could use to eliminate him on the spot being suppressed by her own strong will.

Something told him she would never seriously lash out at him though.

"Please tell me you're not lying to me Natasha," he asked quietly. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"I'm not lying to you," she said carefully. She might refuse to tell him certain things that he wanted to know - but she rarely lied to him.

_Rarely_.

Clint stood there for a long time as he searched her eyes for lies or dishonesty, but he already knew that if she wanted to hide anything he would never catch it. For some reason he believed her anyway.

"Then let's go kick a criminal's ass and then figure out how to fix my head so that we can talk properly again," Clint said steadily as he dropped his hands from her tense shoulders and cautiously stepped back. Natasha instantly narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"_Why_?" she asked cautiously - she was referring to everything. Clint didn't even flinch under her burning gaze.

"Because I can tell you don't want to be here right now - but something is compelling you to stay. Also - I believe my handler when he said you saved my life - so I owe you something in return," he said evenly. He was following her to pay her back. Natasha inhaled sharply but didn't deny anything he said. Clint decided to take a leap of faith. "So - where do we go from here Natasha?" he asked giving her a weak smile. Natasha took another deep breath and slowly started to relax ever so slightly as she let her sharp mind start working through the best course of action they should take from here out.

_You haven't lost me yet Tasha. _

_Don't let me go yet. _

"We're going to go in as a team but we're going to lie our ass off and pretend that you got discharged from medical and do not have amnesia - otherwise they'll cart you off to base," Natasha said steadily as she tightly got her control back in check. Clint's face fell instantly.

"I don't think that is really going to work - I don't even have my SHIELD I.D.," he said with a sigh. She might just have to go in alone like Coulson intended. Natasha shook her head as she fished something out of her pocket.

"I have it, don't worry," she muttered as she passed him a slim card. Clint stared at his own face staring back at him and his eyes instantly flashed up to lock with hers.

She had freaky access to _all_ his stuff - it was terrifying how different his life has become. He has never had one single person to share everything with; his job, his past, his dirtiest secrets and just the truth about who the hell Clint Barton was.

It was more like he _couldn't_ share his job with most people - it was what killed all his past relationships. No woman ever understood his need to work for SHIELD in the past.

Maybe this is what it means to have a partner.

Natasha watched the train wreck of a thought process flicker across his face and sighed.

"You're over thinking things again Barton. Just accept that we back each other up and move on," Natasha muttered. It was what she learned to do after a few months. If she scrutinized everything they did she would drive herself crazy trying to understand _why_ they worked like that. A lot of things they did didn't make much sense - but they did it anyway. Clint scoffed.

"Do you know how _weird_ this is?" Clint asked warily as he waved his card in front of her face. Natasha snorted.

"Trust me - I thought it was freaky too at the beginning," she grumbled. She freaked out a lot when he started finishing her sentences and the way they started working in sync and playing off each other's cues.

It was damn terrifying.

Clint furrowed his brow.

"What part did _you_ find weird?" he asked slowly. Natasha paused as she took a moment to seriously consider his question.

"The fact that we can actually work together despite everything that points to the conclusion that we never would," she said quietly as she slid her own card through the scanner on the wall beside them and waited until it turned green before she yanked open the door and walked into the highly secure building. Clint silently followed after her as she confidently weaved through different halls as if she had worked in this building for years.

In reality, she hasn't been here once in her life - she has just glanced at the layout map and memorized it on the spot.

"Are we just walking in and shooting this bastard?" he asked after a few silent minutes of following her. Natasha eyes darkened.

"Pretty much. I have the clearance from Fury himself. I get one bullet and 20 minutes with Yago," Natasha said as she led him down a deserted hall way and stopped in front of an unimpressive old dull closet door.

"That is a janitor's closet...," Clint deadpanned. Natasha gave him a long look. She promptly grabbed onto the door knob and yanked it open to reveal a melt sliding door leading into a metal box. Clint stared at the hidden entrance that literally sat out in the open and yet in the middle of nowhere.

"Wanna try again?" Natasha asked with a slight smirk on her face. Clint scowled.

"Okay, so it's an _elevator_ in a janitor's closet," Clint grumbled as he followed her into the metal box. Clint glanced at the floor numbers and did a double take. _Holy shit._

"Why do they need 99 underground prison floors?" he asked cautiously. Natasha gave him a leveled stare.

"You honestly do not want to know Barton," she said carefully as she used her card again to get the elevator moving. Clint frowned as he silently absorbed the situation.

"If Yago is hauled up in a place like this he seems like a real cupcake," Clint said dryly. Natasha face instantly darkened and Clint shifted uncomfortably beside the Russian who was suddenly _oozing_ dangerous homicidal vibes in a tightly four by four by nine moving metal box. The only reason he didn't bolt was because he could tell none of those dark feelings were directed towards him personally.

He tried to take her advice and not worry about how he knew that.

"What did he _do_ exactly...?" Clint asked quietly. Natasha took a sharp breath as she calmed herself down and let a cool mask fall into place as she stared at the flashing floor number change on the button panel in front of her.

"He got you infected from a wolf experiment that had viral saliva and then by blood transfer I got infected from you and that's why we both ended up in 2 month recovery in SHIELD medical. He also shot me in the stomach and tortured me for about an hour and a half," she said steadily. She was clinical in her explanation - but the slight twitch in her right shooting hand gave her looming anxiety away.

She was _not_ unaffected by the mission. Just because she was good at hiding it doesn't mean she isn't feeling the after affects. Eventually she is going to have to lock herself up and deal with the shit the drugs unraveled in her head - with or without him.

She honestly didn't know which one she would prefer.

_Silence_.

"You maybe shouldn't have told me that because now I don't think I can just let you shoot him," Clint said menacingly with dark anger swirling in his sharp blue eyes. Natasha instantly put a hand on his face to stop him from going down that dark path she knows _very_ well. It happened to her _way_ more often then it happened to him.

"Hey - we're supposed to be the messed up version of the good guys remember?" she said cautiously. His body obviously remembered her touch because the darkness cleared immediately as he relaxed involuntarily and leaned into her hand. She watched him stare at her hand in shock and she knew he was trying not to freak out about his unintended response to her touch. He was a sniper - he _never_ reacted well to human contact.

This was scary shit.

"Are you sure we've only been partners for just 11 months?" he asked in a slightly higher voice - completely changing the topic. Natasha sighed and tried to pull her hand back but he grabbed on to it and wouldn't let her go.

"This is crazy," he whispered while staring at her hand in disbelief. Natasha huffed.

"I didn't think it was _that_ crazy...," she muttered. Sheesh, all she did was calm him down from a potential mass criminal murdering spree - not tell him that she was some lost Russian princess or some crap like that. Clint fiercely shook his head.

"No you insane woman! What _is_ this?" he demanded as he shook her hand. _Why did he react like that?_ Natasha started to get pissed off by all his questions - especially when she couldn't answer half of them herself because she didn't realize _half_ the shit Barton and her did.

That pissed her off even _more_. How could she not have noticed?

"How the fuck should I know Barton? I just know it works for you _okay_?" she growled irritably. He was royally pissing her off and 2 seconds away from being thigh choked to death.

Two emotionally stunted assassins arguing about unintended comfort techniques.

It was hilarious.

"I must be wired to be a crazy then," he muttered as he poked at her hand like it was some kind of weird experiment. Natasha had enough of his insulting staring and promptly grabbed his wrist and twisted it until he had to sharply drop to the ground to prevent her from _breaking_ it. Natasha gave him a deadly firm glare.

"Don't push me Barton or I'll break your hand," she said warningly.

And she _meant_ it.

"Not pushing. Not pushing," he said valiantly trying to hold back a wince. Natasha narrowed her eyes as she kept track of the 30 floors they still had left to pass. She had seconds to make sure she got her point across and give him enough time to rearrange himself so that he is not embarrassed when the door slid open on SHIELD prison level.

She knew his pride could not handle a hit like that.

She was not _that_ cruel.

"Stop _distracting_ us - we have work to do," she hissed angrily. Clint glared daggers into the ground as she squeezed his wrist tight enough to probably bruise but also get her threat driven home.

"Can you blame me?" he muttered. He didn't even know his own _body_ anymore. Natasha sighed and finally let go of his trapped wrist before she actually hurt him.

"No, but we really need to get this done," she said carefully. Clint instantly stood up and turned around to glare daggers at her. Natasha stood her ground and glared back. Clint narrowed his own gaze.

"That's fine. I can be icy professional if that is what you want Romanoff. But you better understand that the only reason I didn't slam your head into the wall for grabbing me like that is because you saved my life," he said threateningly. Natasha's eyes darkened.

"You're too weak after just waking up from a 2 month drug induced coma to even slam a _junior agent_ into a wall right now Barton - let alone _me_," she said carefully. Clint's ever flashed in barely suppressed rage.

"Is that a _challenge_?" he asked starting to feel his temper begin to rise. Natasha continued to stare at him with her killer steady gaze.

"Don't make it a challenge Barton - you'll lose," she said warningly.

"Maybe I won't lose," Clint whispered as he clenched his hands into tight fists. Natasha noticed his threatening stance and quickly tried to defuse the situation. This was getting out of hand.

"I didn't bring you here with me to have a fight Clint," Natasha said with sigh as she instantly backed off and gave him some space.

If they started a serious fight she was going to hurt him - and then he would be stuck in medical all over again. Clint narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"Then why did you bring me here?" he asked irritably backing down himself - he knew deep down that if he threw a punch she would finish him within seconds. He was not 100 percent yet.

"For control," she said quietly. Clint froze.

"To control _what_?" he asked suspiciously. Natasha chuckled darkly. Oh Barton.

"_Me_," she said simply as she slipped out of the elevator when the door slid open. Clint scoffed.

"How the hell am I going to do that if I'm as weak as a bendy noodle stick?" Clint asked incredulously. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Use your head - just because you can't throw a decent punch right now doesn't mean you can't take someone down. Besides - I don't _plan_ on being difficult," she said firmly as they walked down the deserted hall and passed a row of windows looking into various white padded rooms with different dark brooding characters in them. When they passed the last window in the hall Clint saw Natasha's shoulders stiffen and he immediately stared at the dark haired man with a serious face through the window on their right.

"Is that him?" Clint asked under his breath. Natasha sharply nodded as she grabbed the handle on the observation room door beside the room with their key target in it.

"Yes. Also, I saved your _life_ - so don't leave me hanging and don't freak out," she said darkly before she _yanked_ open the door and a calm authoritative mask fell into place.

"Agent Romanoff and agent Barton here to relieve you of your post agent Anderson," she said steadily as she held up her SHIELD pass and gestured for Barton to do that same. Agent Anderson instantly glanced up from whatever he was doing at the control desk in front of the one way observation window. He looking around for a something and quickly picked up a piece of paper and scanned it for something. His eyes reached the end of the document and he furrowed his brow in confusion.

"I didn't get any notice-"

"Check your orders from headquarters again Anderson," Natasha interrupted him swiftly. The security agent gave her a wary look before he typed something into his computer.

Clint glanced behind her back and watched her rapidly type something into _her_ phone and press enter. There was a SHIELD logo on her screen. He had an idea what exactly she just did.

Damn she was a _dangerous_ mad genius.

"You have clearance from Fury to neutralize the prisoner by any means necessary. That is a bit extreme...," the agent said as he leaned back against his chair. Clint could _not_ agree more.

"He is an extreme criminal who killed a lot of people," Natasha said with a convincing shrug. Anderson furrowed his brow.

"Are you going to talk to him first?" he asked carefully. Natasha nodded slowly.

"Yes - last second questions and all the SHIELD protocol - but I'm sure you knew that right Agent Anderson?" Natasha said flashing her million dollar smile and flipping her hair over her shoulder just to fluster the agent. And boy was he flustered by the sudden pretty redheaded agent leaning into his personal space. She was about to up the seducing when she felt someone stiffen behind her. She firmly ignored him - he can go _fuck off_. He doesn't even remember what they _were_.

The next thing she knew a tiny dart flew an inch past her ear and stabbed the security guard into the neck and caused him to instantly drop to the floor and pass out.

She stood still as a statue.

Only _one_ person could have made an accurate shot that close to hitting her (but not) and _that_ fast at short range.

"We could have just sent him off for half an hour Barton," Natasha said stiffly. Clint firmly shook his head as he came up to stand beside her. He didn't try and kill her - so that was a good sign. She was pretty sure he was only helping her because she saved his life - otherwise he would be turning her in for going rogue.

"That would be too risky - especially considering how you are acting right now," Clint said carefully. Natasha huffed.

"_Whatever_," Natasha growled as she stared into the observation window and locked eyes with the man she was going to _kill_. He was steadily staring back even if he could not see her.

_Death was coming. _

"Do you have a gun?" Clint asked placing his hand on her shoulder and pulling her out of her dark corner of her mind where all her assassination knowledge resided. There were _so_ many ways to kill someone. So many ways she could killed this one target that shook her world and knocked it out of balance. Natasha gave him a blank look. Clint huffed himself.

"Stupid question I know - give it to me for a second," he said holding his hand out for her to relinquish her only gun. Natasha stared at his hand for a long moment before she slowly pulled her gun out of her holster and dropped it into his waiting hand.

She still trusted him.

Instead of shooting her like she half expected, Clint promptly spun the weapon upside down and clicked open the bullet holding compartment. He dumped out all the slim metal bullets and only put a single one back in. Natasha blinked as she watched him steal her ammunition.

"_One_ bullet," he said seriously holding out her pistol for her to take back. Natasha chuckled darkly and accepted her much lighter weapon. She didn't even _need_ a weapon to do what she wanted to do in there.

"Do you not trust me with a target agent Barton?" Natasha asked with a slightly feral smile. Clint's eyes darkened. After what he has seen she could do he definitely did not underestimate her ruthlessness.

"No. I _don't_ Natasha - because you have bloody murder in your eyes," he said guardedly. Natasha's eyes flashed and everything terrifying he was seeing swirling in the depths of her green orbs instantly disappeared. It scared the living _shit_ out of him that she could do that without even blinking.

She was _frighteningly_ good at appearing to be calm and that was extremely dangerous.

"If I was going to murder him like he deserves Barton - I would just need my fists and that was it," she whispered honestly. Clint shook his head slowly.

"What if I say I don't believe you Natasha?" Clint asked carefully. Natasha stared at him with the calmest expression in the world.

She didn't fool _shit_.

She was simmering with rage and Clint could see that from a mile away. She wanted to tear Yago to _pieces._ She has never wanted to kill a man the way she wanted to kill _him_.

"What would you do if I went in there and did something you won't like?" she asked evenly. Clint's eyes darkened.

"I would stop being your partner," he said damningly. Natasha stared at him dead in the eye.

_Silence_.

_Tick. _

_Tick. _

_Tick. _

_Tick. _

_Tick. _

"Then I won't do it," she said calmly as she picked up her single bullet gun and turned to leave the observation room. Clint placed his hand on her shoulder one last time and stopped her for a moment.

"Be careful," he said as he stuck a communicator in her ear so that she would be able to hear him while she was in there. Natasha paused as she felt his pulse through his hand on her shoulder - _it wasn't the same as her Clint's._

"I'm not the one you need to be worried about Barton," Natasha said quietly before she slipped out of the room and shut the door behind her.

"That's what I'm afraid of," he said under his breath as he placed a set of head phone over his ears and took a seat in front of the controls that monitored Vasil Yago's prison room. He set a timer on his right and stared at the man that made his partner turn from the reserved and calm agent he met in his recovery room into a _deadly_ single minded killer that just walked away from him. Clearly Natasha doesn't react well to people taking things that belonged to her.

_And he definitely belonged to her_ - he just doesn't remember right now.

Agent Barton had _no_ idea what he was about to witness.

_No idea. _

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: DUN DUN DUN! **

**You have no idea what Natasha is thinking right now. **

**All I'm going to say is that you don't want to be Yago right now - you really, really don't. **

**She is freaking **_**scary**_**.**

**They are breaking so many SHIELD regulations right now it is not even funny. **

**What do you think she is going to do? **


	106. Chapter 106

**I dare you **

**A/N: OMG YES RIGHT? RIGHT? Who actually read this author note? LOL. **

**Natasha is insane. **

**That is my warning. **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 106 **

Yago was sitting in his steel chair wrapped from his shoulders to his waist in iron chains staring at whoever was currently watching his cell today. He has had next to _no_ human contact in _weeks_ other than a stone faced agent who is in charge of prisoner food, washroom trips and mandatory exercise.

Otherwise he was left completely alone.

For two months.

Two months he has been withering away in this cell. Two months they wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing if he had succeeded in taking out one of the most promising SHIELD assassination teams there was _ever_ going to be.

The fact that no one has come to end him told him he _hasn't_.

The fact that said team has not come in to finish their job said he had gotten pretty damn _close_.

As Yago continued his never blinking stare down with the observation window he felt a killer stare suddenly aimed back at him. He blinked.

_She was here. _

He smiled creepily at the table in front of him.

Yago didn't look up as the door beside him opened quietly and shut as well.

Natasha calmly took a seat in front of the silent bastard and dropped her only weapon onto the tiny table between them. It clattered against the metal surface and laid innocently between the two of them.

And then she just _stared_.

10 minutes into their silent not really a staring match Yago finally had enough and looked up.

"Are you just going to sit there and stare at me? It's kind of boring," Yago said tiredly slumping in his seat.

She was such a letdown. He was expecting more than just an empty intimidating staring match.

"Come on - at least hit me. Wouldn't that make you feel better after all the shit that I did to you?" Yago taunted. He hasn't talked to anyone in months. He frowned when she didn't make a sound.

Natasha didn't even blink - she was still as a statue. No matter what Yago did she didn't response or even react.

She was the dangerously beautiful picture of death before it took your soul.

"_You have 9 minutes starting now Romanoff - if you don't finish up in that time I'm coming in and dragging you out. Do you copy agent Romanoff?"_ Clint said warningly in her ear. Natasha's scary blank expression didn't change for even a second - but she answered her partner because she knew he wanted verbal confirmation.

"Acknowledged," she finally said after a long heavy pause. Yago's head instantly shot up as he stared holes into the Russian's head.

Natasha didn't move an inch.

"So you _can_ speak," Yago said with an amused grin.

Natasha didn't even blink.

"Why hasn't HYDRA come to take you out?" she asked point blank. They have kept him under lock and key but it is always easier to break into prison then to break out. Yago gave her a twisted grin.

"Because they know whatever the Black Widow is going to do to me is 100 times worse then what they could ever imagine doing," Yago said with a dark laugh.

Natasha didn't react.

She just kept staring at Yago with a calm expression that made chills go up Clint's back. It reminded him of a violent dying star in the sky before it went supernova and took everything down with it.

Yago looked away from her stone cold face and glanced at the observation window and tilted his head to the side.

"Where is your partner agent Romanoff? Is he behind the glass? Is there something wrong with him after he woke up?" Yago asked causally.

Natasha inhaled a sharp breath.

The bastard _knew_.

She planted both her feet on the ground and put her hands on the table where everybody could see them - Yago, Barton and the SHIELD security cameras that were _recording all of this_.

_Everyone_ was watching her back in headquarters.

They let her go on purpose.

She knew that.

She knew she is currently getting more information out of him that any agent did in the last 2 months combined.

She wasn't one of the best interrogators in the world for nothing.

"Let's get one thing straight. I'm going to kill you Yago. If you don't want me to do it in the most painful way imaginable - you're going to tell me what the _fuck_ you did to his head," she said with murder flashing in her eyes.

There were the dark things she _wanted_ to do to him - and then the things that SHIELD and Barton would _tolerate_ her doing to him. Yago sighed theatrically.

"Oh that is so _demanding_ Romanoff - but I'm going to die no matter. Shouldn't I get something in return?" he asked cheekily.

"What the hell do you want?" she asked narrowing her eyes.

"_Don't bargain with the enemy Natasha_," Clint said quietly in her ear.

Natasha felt like punching him.

"Shut the fuck up and watch the timer Barton," she said flatly with a deadly straight face.

He shut up.

Yago was still grinning when she looked back at him.

"I've been doing my research while imprisoned here Natasha. I figured out who has been stealing my face and walking all over the world with it," he whispered with excitement.

"_What. Do. You. Want. Yago_?" Natasha said very carefully. Yago's face suddenly darkened.

"My name is not Vasil Yago," he said darkly.

Natasha didn't even blink.

She already knew that.

"What do you want?" she repeated. Yago leaned as closer to her as he could get before he flashed her an animalistic sneer.

"I want to meet Dmitri Braginski," he growled. Natasha's eyes hardened.

_Braginksi_ echoed in her ears.

"I don't know who that is," she said vacantly. Yago shook his head and laughed.

"Yes you do. He is a CIA agent that was picked up in one of the dirtiest places in Russia 2 years ago by a fresh out of training American agent who is lucky to be alive today because of him. He was half dead when they dragged his ass back to America and he's been here ever since. There are a lot of ways to get information when you're left alone for 23 hours a day Romanoff," Yago said with mysterious smile.

Natasha sat there and continued to stare at him - but her eyes were flashing as she dragged up everything she knew about Kate Bishop's partner.

There was always something off about him.

She had been too busy with their own mission to look into it.

Next time she won't make that mistake.

Yago suddenly tilted his head to the side like a dog.

"So are you going to kill me agent Romanoff?" he asked calmly.

_"3 minutes Natasha - shoot him,"_ Clint said quietly in her ear.

Natasha didn't pick up the gun. Yago smiled slowly.

"You want me to tell you how to fix your partner - you get Dmitri in front of me within 24 hours or the deal is off," Yago said with finality. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"_You don't have to listen to him Natasha. You don't have to do this for me - just shoot him and you won't have to listen to his voice anymore_," Clint said quietly in her ear. He knew every second she sat in front of the bastard that fucked up their partnership was killing her. Natasha's eyes hardened.

"I'm not doing it for you," Natasha said coldly, not caring if the criminal in front of her heard her or not.

_I'm doing it for my own sanity_. She was thankful when his voice fell silent and she leaned forward to level Yago with a killer stare.

"I'll get Dmitri in here and give you 20 minutes with him - but then you're going to tell me what the hell is wrong with my partner the second the 20 minute mark is passed. And then I'm going to shoot you," Natasha said with a steel hard cold expression. He was going to die within the next 24 hours - that was for certain. Yago chuckled darkly.

"How do you know you'll be assigned to kill me again Romanoff? You just made an illegal deal with a criminal after all," Yago said with an evil twisted smirk. SHIELD was going to eat her _alive_. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Even if I don't kill you Yago - _someone else will_," she whispered menacingly inches from his face. They both knew who she was talking about. Yago snorted.

"He is in no condition to kill anyone - I did a wonderful job of making _that_ happen," Yago taunted with a sick leer at her. The next thing he knew he was see black spots flicker across his vision and felt the impact come way before pain exploded all over the left side of his face.

_CRACK_!

Yago's head _whipped_ to the side as his jaw hanged crooked as blood pooled in his mouth.

_She broke his jaw. _

"That is for infecting my partner with your sick virus and giving him amnesia," she said darkly flexing her fist and glaring daggers that were on fire into the chained man's face. Yago snorted feebly.

"_Weak_," he muttered as he spat out a mouth full of a blood to his left. Within seconds he was in a brutal choke hold with a dangerously beautiful and deadly Russian assassin towering over him with eyes so dark they were practically black. He tried to say some sarcastic comment but she just squeezed hard enough that all he got out was a pathetic gasp.

"Weak people don't come back from the dead and let me tell you Yago - once you're dead _you are not coming back_," she whispered darkly in his ear. "If I had my way Yago I would cut you into so many pieces that no doctor will ever be able to put you back together again. Starting from your toes and your fingers to your arms and your legs - I would turn you into a human jigsaw puzzle," she whispered before she roughly grabbed his hand and promptly broke his wrist with a loud _snap_.

His scream was deafening and only made her keep going.

"Then I would take my dripping knife from my last kill and carve the name of every single person you have ever murdered on every inch of your skin," she said darkly before she pulled out a small dagger and _stabbed_ him in the shoulder before twisted the blade until he was screaming all over again.

"I would cut off your dick and feed it to a rapist before I killed him too. I would drag your broken cut up body into a dark winter forest where no one would hear you and I'd strap you to a tree with burning white hot iron chains that melted your skin off. I would leave you there for days until the iron cooled and the freezing temperature would freeze your body and stop the bleeding from all your lost limbs. And then I would take a blow torch to set you on _fire_ and burn you alive and watch you scream in agony for _hours_. And when you are seconds away from death I would take his favourite arrow and _stab_ you in your neck and slit your throat - _that is what I would have done to you in another life!_" she hissed before she finally let go of his throat and Yago gasped as he slummed in his seat in _genuine_ fear in his eyes.

She was insane.

She was fucking _insane_.

The only reason she didn't crush his trachea right then and there was because of her partner was silently watching.

That was it.

There was no other reason.

She really didn't give a _shit_ about SHIELD's peaceful world ideals or how bad their punishment was going to be when Director Fury saw the security footage - if he wasn't already watching.

She has killed so many people in the worst way imaginable she knew where she was going in death.

One more bloody well-deserved murder would have been nothing on her drenched ledger. That didn't matter.

But she would have lost _him_ forever - that mattered.

"I'll see you in hell Yago," she whispered as she silently picked up her gun off the table without firing her single shot. Yago breathed harshly and couldn't hold himself back from throwing one last jab at her - he was going to die soon anyway.

"You're just a pissed revengeful world class bitch whose poor loyal puppy just got stabbed one too many times in front of her Romanoff," Yago spat brutally. He really shouldn't have said that to a unstable Russian assassin who would likely kill every single criminal in this prison if it would get her partner back.

_BANG_!

Yago let out an ear splitting _scream_ as his knee cap shattered on impact and Natasha's empty gun was smoking in her hand while a burning angry fire _raged_ in her green eyes.

She could have done so much _worse_.

Yeah she used her one bullet that was meant for his chest- _big deal._

"Have fun bleeding for a few hours while I go find your lookalike," she said darkly before she spun around and stalked out of the room. She _slammed_ the prison room door shut behind her and instantly came face to face with her guarded and concerned looking partner. She was breathing erratically and his breathing was tense but steady like the sniper he was.

Polar opposites and yet too many parallels.

"Are you okay?" Clint asked carefully. Natasha knew that her Clint would already know she was so _not_ fucking okay and probably do something about it. She was too far gone in her head to figure out what he would do right now. She was probably what Clint would consider her _seriously out of control mode._

She's not even going to lie to herself - she was definitely out of control.

"I'm fine," she growled tightly. Clint narrowed his eyes - he wasn't stupid. _He didn't believe her for a second._

"That didn't look fine Natasha...," he said cautiously gesturing to her recent messy interrogation with a target she was beyond compromised with. Natasha sighed irritably and wrapped her arms around herself.

"Barton I told you I'm f-"

Natasha instantly froze when she couldn't breathe all of a sudden - because her face was pressed up against a familiar solid chest and there were weaker but still strong arms tightly wrapped around her waist. Her heart rate instantly spiked as her brain went into stimulus overdrive.

He was holding her.

"Why are you _hugging_ me?" she asked in stiff alarm. She wasn't mentally prepared for this Barton to initiate any physical contact. She felt her mask start to slip as he held her gently but firmly against his chest. He held her like her Clint - it nearly caused her to her to fall to her knees in pain.

She did all of this for him - she _stopped_ herself for him.

"Because your body is screaming that you want someone to hold you," he said quietly. She froze - she knew that. She knew who she wanted it to be hugging her - but he wasn't fully here right now. She currently only had his shadow. Natasha couldn't handle all the emotions welling up inside of her and tried to pull away but he just tightened his grip and held her in such a way that she would have to break something to get out of his embrace.

Something told him she would never risk that. After a tense moment where they were both trying to gauge the other's next potentially violent move she finally stopped trying to psyche him out and reluctantly collapsed against him in exhaustion. He caught her easily and held up most of her weight without complaint.

"It's not screaming anything," she muttered in defeat. Clint scoffed - sometimes she was a horrible liar.

"Okay. Then maybe something is telling me it's what _he_ would do," Clint said quietly with a bit more truth in it. She tensed as he ran his hand through her hair and held her tighter. There were apologies in his embrace - apologies for not remembering what she refused to tell him and how much it hurt her to go through it without him. Natasha held her breath.

He knew.

Coulson told her he would figure it out no matter how good she was. She wasn't good enough to hide how much it hurt to look at him. Because he was _right here_.

But at the same time he wasn't.

"You should have told me," he whispered quietly against her hair. Natasha inhaled a sharp breath.

"Tell you _what_?" she muttered bitterly as she uncertainly wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed her eyes shut. _She wanted him back. She wanted him back. She wanted him back. She wanted him back._

Him without his memories wasn't enough.

She needed everything back.

"I'm sorry I don't remember us Natasha," he said regretfully running his hand down her back like _her_ Clint does. She was fighting way too hard to get him back for them not to be an _us_. Everything made sense now - waking up with her red hair the first flash of colour her saw, being partners, her having his bow, the shared car, being roommates, the messy confusing feelings, the way she couldn't look at him for too long, Coulson's warning to play nice, that fact that she got shot to save his life, the fact that she nearly brutally _murdered_ the man that did this to them in the first place.

_This girl was his. _

He didn't think he would ever have someone like her.

Natasha took a shaky breath before she steeled her resolve.

"You _will_," she vowed darkly - she would make sure of it. Even if she had to break a million laws and kill a hundred people to do it.

"Where are we going exactly?" Clint asked carefully. Natasha's eyes darkened and she instantly pulled out of his tempting embrace - she couldn't let him comfort her right now.

"Downtown Manhattan - we're going to hunt down 2 CIA agents," she said as she promptly flipped her wrist around and ripped off the SHIELD logo on her sleeve. Clint stared as a microphone fell into the palm of her hand.

Holy shit.

"I hope you hear this Coulson and have it on record that I didn't kill him because if you tag me _one more time_ I will take every single one of your favourite ties and dunk them in dog shit and then choke you with them before I hang you from the flag pole in front of the military base and _cut your dick off _with a machete," Natasha said darkly before she slammed the microchip into the wall and smashed it into a million pieces that fell to the ground in a pile of metal junk. She took a sharp breath and instantly stepped away from the wall.

She had a solid plan she can follow through with now. She's not helpless to help him anymore. She let a cold determined confidence fill her body as the Black Widow slid into place on her face.

As long as she had an objective she could keep moving forward - she was trained to always need an goal to focus all her built up energy towards.

Leave her idle and inactive for long and she'll go insane.

"Let's go Barton," she said frostily with flashing green eyes as she spun on her heels and stalked away with her red hair whipping behind her. Clint just stared at her in barely disguised shock as she lightly brushed passed him and stalked back down the hall towards the elevator.

His partner was _scary as hell_.

His partner was god damn _insane_.

His partner was freaking _brilliant_.

He understands why he stayed her partner now.

One day she was going to be the best spy in the world and he wanted to be partnered with the best.

_But as time passed that was not the only reason I stayed your partner Tasha..._

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Natasha's morals deteriorate rather fast without Clint around - possibly an affect from her past. Clint honestly makes her a better person - and keeps a serious dark side of hers under control. A Natasha who doesn't believe she has anything to lose is an extremely dangerous threat that SHIELD would probably have to eliminate. **

**Now imagine what would happen if she never got him back in the Avengers...**

**Scary?**

**Natasha is truly insane. Some insane people are the calmest and seem like the most normal people in the world. She truly is driven crazy after all the crap the Russians put her through and the number of people she has murdered in cold blood is not healthy. She might not be a superhero (yet - she is too young here) - but she is brilliant enough to take down an entire military base before they even got their soldiers mobilized.**

**People like Natasha need people like Clint to ground her and shield her from her own dark and twisted insanity. **

**People like Clint need people like Natasha to give him a reason to keep living in a world that doesn't even want him.**

**That is why they need each other - without each other eventually they'll both end up dead. **

**It was never because of love - love comes later. Much later. They are actually not in love with each other right now.**

**That is my theory for why she says love is for children and when she tells Loki what they have together isn't love - it's too twisted and impure to be love that binds them together. So many relationships die because the love fades. What Clintasha have is something much darker and keeps them together much longer. **

**She owes him a debt and he owes her a debt too.**

**What do you think?**


	107. Chapter 107

**I dare you **

**A/N: Intense. **

**SO MUCH DRAMA - AH!**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 107 **

While agent Barton and agent Romanoff expertly ditched the SHIELD high security prison before anyone could even absorb what the _hell_ they did in prison room 106 - two of the highest security clearance SHIELD agents and the SHIELD Director himself all sat in a soundproof communications room staring at a screen that just showed them one of the most unexpected footage they have ever seen in their _lives_.

They just saw the Black Widow in action - the dark one that existed in the past before her defection. No one has ever caught her assassinations on video before - they know she let them watch the near thing this time. It was downright _terrifying_ - and she didn't even eliminate the target yet. Oh but she will - she made a promise after all. Coulson and Fury both looked away from the disturbing images at the same time and locked eyes together while Hill glanced down at her tablet and took a deep breath.

"That...was _insane_," she said guardedly. Fury and Coulson didn't move for a second as they stared each other down.

No one would refute her response to the security footage.

There were a lot of things wrong with this situation - Fury didn't even know where to start.

So he started with the obvious problem.

"Who approved her psychoanalysis assessment again?" Fury asked carefully. Coulson eyes hardened. He was her handler - it was all on his head.

"I did," he muttered reluctantly.

They were going to kill _him_ for letting her go in there knowing that she was compromised and then turn around and go kill _her_ for disobeying direct orders. Fury leaned forward as he stared one of his best handlers down and narrowed his eyes.

"And you didn't happen to mention _that_?" Fury asked angrily pointing at the frozen screen with the murderous look on agent Romanoff's face as she choked her target. Coulson sighed irritably and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Romanoff is one of the best spies in the world Director - she could fake any test," Coulson muttered as he replayed part of the last 3 minutes of room 106 security footage.

_"...And then I would take a blow torch to set you on __fire__ and burn you alive and watch you scream in agony for __hours__. And when you are seconds away from death I would take his favourite arrow and __stab__ you in your neck and slit your throat - __that is what I would have done to you in another life!" Natasha hissed with a thousand daggers blazing in her dangerous gaze. _

_Coulson hit the pause button and leaned his forehead against the table in defeat. There is no coming back from this. _

_She is screwed. Barton was screwed. He was screwed. They were all screwed. _

"Director...what do we do now?" Hill asked carefully. They were short on time.

They had options.

Not very many would be approved by the Council.

The only reason they had options was because no one has seen this footage yet.

_Yet_.

Fury leaned back in his seat and just stared at the image on the screen for a long moment. Both Coulson and Hill held their breath - he was always a calm and calculative leader no matter what the situation was.

"That type of pent up resentment is not healthy. How was she discharged from medical with that much post-mission stress Coulson? You understand that this man had _tortured_ her correct? She woke up screaming from the drugs he injected her with," Fury said guardedly. His two most trusted agents nodded slowly. They continued to cross their fingers that he would not conclude with what was the obvious answer to this problem.

But the obvious answer is not always the best solution. Nobody should ever underestimate the Director and his analysis of his agent's motives. _Very_ few things can truly ruffle Romanoff's feathers - they all knew that.

The Director was the _only_ one who saw agent Romanoff immediately after she was tortured.

She had been a tightly wound up bomb waiting to explode.

2 months later - she has just exploded alright.

Fury needed data - _now_.

"Coulson...start talking and start explaining why I should not fire you all," Fury said steadily. And when he says fire he means dispose of thoroughly and silently and hide the bodies where no one would find them. Coulson winced but took a deep breath.

"She was fine when she woke up. She didn't lash out at anyone at anytime. She passed all our medical examinations easily. She didn't even break down while Barton was still under - even when I told her about the low chances of him waking up. She was professional through and through. She sat with Barton every single day until this morning when he finally opened his eyes - and then proceeded to freak us all out with his memory loss. _Then_ she started showing signs," Coulson said steadily. Fury paused and narrowed his eyes.

"Signs of what?" he asked carefully. Coulson took another careful controlled breath. Hill watched the silent conversation occur between their tense gazes. They were battling about the right decision in this situation. Coulson finally narrowed his eyes and spoke.

"Insomnia. She is running on absolutely no sleep whatsoever. I don't think she has slept in 8 days," Coulson said carefully.

_Silence_.

They just sent out an agent that just woke up from a 2 month drug induced coma, was _extremely_ stressed over her partner's potential medical room death, silently coping with her own post-mission anxiety of being tortured and nearly dying, the aftershock of a serious mission gone wrong and an insomnia problem that has probably been plaguing her for years.

They all had an idea about Natasha's mental state.

She was _not_ the only one to blame in this mess.

It was SHIELD's job to watch her health - and they currently failed and did very poorly in taking care of their new agent. It didn't help that she made it difficult for them to see what was wrong and what she needed.

"And yet she just got more information out of one of our number 1 criminals in 20 minutes then our best interrogators have gotten in 2 months," agent Hill added quietly typing something on her tablet screen and searching through all their past attempts to interrogate Vasil Yago.

They all ended in failure.

Yago was too well trained and SHIELD interrogative methods were not as cruel as the Russians who were not hesitant to be vicious. Coulson shook his head.

"It's not just her skills - he _wanted_ to talk to her," Coulson said guardedly. Fury listened to the back and forth conversation between his senior agents and finally cut in.

"Agent Romanoff and agent Barton are both clearly medically compromised. They are not fully responsible for their actions, but there are going to be repercussions for everything involved. I am going to _kill_ medical for letting them escape before being discharged and deemed fit for field work. Go bring them home Coulson," Fury ordered steadily. Coulson stiffened.

He can't do that.

"Barton will come back if I order him - but she won't Director," Coulson warned. Fury narrowed his eyes. He respected Romanoff and her terrifyingly efficient skills - but he needed loyalty in his organization.

"If Romanoff doesn't listen to orders Coulson - we have protocol to follow," Fury said carefully. Coulson firmly shook his head and put his foot down.

He refuses to let this conversation head in that direction. He had worked too damn hard to keep them both alive.

No one is dying if they don't have to today.

No one is going to die except for Vasil Yago.

"If she manages to fix him Director - we get both of them back. If we only extract Barton from the situation - we are going to have to kill her because she's going to go rogue without him," Coulson said warningly.

"How do you know that?" Fury asked suspiciously. Coulson's face darkened.

"I'm her handler - trust me I know Sir," Coulson said tightly as he stared holes into the desk. He should have known better then to send her in there.

_Silence_.

They all waited for the Director to make the final verdict.

"Why exactly do we tolerate agents who are not loyal to our cause Hill?" Fury asked suddenly out of nowhere. Hill gave him a wary look. He was being his mysterious asshole self again.

_Damn, she hated her job sometimes. _

"Because the best don't always come sane, Sir," Hill said quietly watching Natasha's messy interrogation on reply with a calculative stare.

It was messy yes - but she didn't do the things she threatened to do.

Now they were left with guessing the _why_ factor. Hill glanced back at her boss and watched his eyes harden with resolve.

He had made his decision.

"She has 48 hours before we take Barton back and dispatch someone to take her out if she refuses to cooperate and come back with him," Fury said with finality before he promptly stood up and stalked out of the communications room with an air of someone who has to make too many _difficult_ decisions in his life.

He has hundreds of agents to look out for.

He cannot let one agent break all the rules, no matter _how_ valuable she is - it would undermine his authority.

Two former SHIELD partners sat across from each other in stony silence at the door _slammed_ shut behind their Director. Hill took a deep breath and was the first to breech the silence.

"Coulson - why didn't she hurt Yago as badly she _could_ have?" Hill asked carefully. Coulson clenched his hands into a fist as he stared out the window with a guarded look in his eyes.

"Because Barton wouldn't want her to," he replied steadily. _Not because she knew it was wrong_, was left unsaid hanging in the air between them. Hill spun a pen in her hand as a million thoughts flashed across her sharp mind.

They were always aware of the type of operatives they were dealing with. Knowing their motives was the important way of keeping them in line even if they did not have their true loyalty yet. Natasha Romanoff was not part of SHIELD long enough to be loyal to them for the right reasons.

But she would be if they gave her _time_.

Clint Barton was living proof that assassins could change and come back from the darkest corners of their minds.

"Do you have her tagged?" Hill asked cautiously. Coulson's eyes slid away from the window and locked with hers. She didn't look away from his intense stare.

"Yes," he said simply. He always knew where his agents were. Not even Romanoff was good enough to find all of his tags. Not all of them were just on her. He would continue to do it no matter how graphic her threats get.

It saved their lives too many times for him to even _consider_ stopping.

"What happened outside of the prison room?" Hill asked insightfully. Coulson stiffened and she instantly narrowed her eyes. She knew he had audio tags on Romanoff - she just didn't mention it in front of the Director. Coulson glared daggers into the table.

Damn, she knew him too well sometimes it was _scary_.

"Audio files I'm going to _burn_," Coulson said daring her to question him. Hill just stared at him for a long moment before she finally just sighed and packed up her things. He was digging his own grave right alongside his two best agents in his division. Coulson silently watched her get up and walk around the table.

"Don't lose your job Coulson," she said quietly as she stood beside him. _Don't do something that is going to get you killed._ Coulson's face remained unerringly calm.

"Some things are more important than your job Hill," he replied quietly. He felt her stiffen before she instantly took a step back to put more distance between them just as her serious mask sharply fell into place.

"Not for everyone," she said guardedly. _Not for me._ She left unsaid before she spun on her heel and walked out of the room to find the Director because he had just dramatically ditched her. He needed to sign things and he was always disappearing on her. It drove her _mad_.

Coulson smiled bitterly and shook his head.

"I _know_ Maria," he said to himself as he stared out the window. Second in command had her job. Handlers had theirs. And field agents had their own duties and responsibilities they all had to follow.

They were all playing a dangerous game of espionage and secrecy and they were playing to stay alive because eventually they will all lose.

_Because once a SHIELD agent you are an agent for life - all exceptions or unwillingness to comply are eliminated. _

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

There were several types of silences in their partnership.

The tense silence when they were both plotting each other's murder in their heads.

The awkward silence when they didn't want to say what they know they should say.

And the heavy silence when they just didn't know _what_ to say.

Today's silence was the lovely third kind.

Natasha was sitting in the passenger seat beside her partner who just drove them across the bridge into Manhattan towards an address he hacked CIA databases and found for Dmitri Braginski while she sat there and watched as every single thing that was going to go wrong or could go wrong flash across her sharp mind. She let her partner do all the ground work while she silently freaked out.

She was in so much shit with SHIELD and she _knew_ it.

She tried to tell her hyperactive sleep-deprived enhanced brain to shut the fuck up and let her _breathe_.

It wasn't working.

"Stop the car Barton," Natasha said suddenly holding onto the edge of her seat with a death grip. She thinks she was going to explode if she didn't stop moving _right now_. Clint watched her breathing rate dangerously escalate and instantly pulled over on a street 5 minutes away from their destination and killed the engine. He swiftly turned towards her and stared at her suspiciously.

"Are you going to run?" Clint asked guardedly. He would stop her if she tried to run - even though he knew she could ditch him with her hands tied behind her back, considering how weak and out of practice he was right now. Natasha stiffly shook her head - she wouldn't run if she had a shot at getting him back.

"No. I just need a minute," she whispered unsteadily as she pulling her knees up to her chest and hid her eyes against her killer thighs.

The world needed to stop moving for a second - it was all spinning out of control in her head. _She_ was spiraling out of control.

She _hated_ being out of control.

They sat in another uncomfortable silence for a few minutes as they waited for her breathing rate to calm down. Natasha could fell his stare burning into the side of her head but she just ignored it for the time being. He finally looked away from her and pulled out her tablet - he learned how to use it in under 10 minutes flat.

He learned fast.

"A girl named Kate Bishop is this man's partner. I found Dmitri's picture...he looks just like the man you just interrogated," he said quietly. Natasha's eyes darkened as she continued to struggle with her fleeting control.

"I know - we're trying figure out the _why_ Barton," she said tensely. Clint frowned as he glanced back at the files in front of him.

"They just got back from a messy mission in Haiti. They have medical injures but they are not fatal so they should be home by now," he said carefully scanning the documents. Natasha paused.

"Do they live together?" she asked carefully. Clint glanced at her with caution.

"No, they have separate addresses listed in their files...are they like us?" he asked carefully. She still wouldn't confirm what type of _us_ they were exactly- he doubted she would even tell him if he asked. He just knew that they were definitely _not_ platonic, just judging by the way she looks at him and how he feels when he looks at her. He might not know how it happened - but he _knows_ they were something deeper than just partners. Natasha frowned.

"I don't know - maybe. We are not the model pair for compromised agents, Barton. I don't know how other partners do this shit. If they are good no one would even suspect them anyway. We met them in passing while on mission in Japan. Things were moving too fast for me to get a good read on them. You talked to the Bishop girl more. I actually fought Dmitri. He's _nothing_ like Yago," she said darkly. She still didn't know if his partnership with Bishop was an act or who he was truly working for. She didn't know anything useful about Dmitri at all.

She needed to get herself under control and talk to him. In order to do that she needed to get her shit together.

Currently she was failing.

"So we're _not_ going in guns blazing?" he asked warily. He was kind of starting to see a trend in her style. Natasha snorted.

"No - we _are_. You keep driving the next 5 blocks and we're storming his apartment. We're going to ask him to come nicely - and if that fails we're kidnapping him," she said flatly. Clint blinked. She had interesting flare.

"You're kind of ruthless you know that?" Clint said carefully. Natasha chuckled darkly as she shook her head.

"You said I was just rough around the edges before," she said with a bitter smile. She knew he was just been nice to her. She knew how she really was.

"Have you ever reacted like this?" he asked warily. Natasha's eyes darkened.

"_No_," she said tightly. She has never lost him before - she didn't know _how_ to react to this. Clint took a deep breath and turned her tablet off.

"I'm glad you didn't do the things you said you would do to Yago if you could Natasha," he said quietly. Natasha tensed but didn't look up from where her face was pressed against her knees.

"Barton - if I knew you wouldn't hate me for the rest of your life for going back to my previous lifestyle I would have done it," she said unremorsefully. Clint's eyes fell - he knew that. He knew she did it for _him_.

"That is kind of scary," Clint said quietly. Natasha tightened her grip on her knees and held herself into an even smaller ball.

"I'm a scary person," she muttered bitterly. She didn't even _know_ why he stuck around - all she knew was that he wouldn't leave her without a damn good reason - that was enough to want to hold on to him. Barton gave her something tangible to hold onto - something to fight for. Their partnership was something she genuinely wanted and him dying on her would kind of ruin that. She tensed when she felt his comforting hand on her shoulder and clenched her jaw to keep herself from lashing out at him when he gently turned her head to face him.

"What would _he_ do?" Clint asked seriously. Natasha shook in place as she suppressed the urge to punch him and bolt. Her training was viciously clashing with what she wanted.

Training was saying _run_ and get the _hell_ out of the country because she just broke over 50 damn SHIELD regulations and they were going to _kill_ her.

The part of her that has been slowly developing to actually _want_ things in life said stay because he was still here and that Coulson would protect them.

It was war in a Russian assassin's mental battle field.

"I don't know - I don't think like him. Sometimes he comes up with crazy plans on the spot that I can't anticipate because they are so _stupid_," she muttered while trying to keep the buzzing out of her head. _Even if they work sometimes she still thinks they were crazy_. She knows she should have slept at least a few hours while Barton was knocked out over the last week - but she couldn't sleep through it because she didn't know when his vitals would just fail on her.

She knew she could go 5 days without sleep without any serious repercussions. The enhancers helped with that.

But 8 days was seriously pushing it.

She thinks she is shutting down as her breathing rate picked up again.

Clint stared at her in alarm and quickly tried to figure out how to distract her from her own thoughts. He rapidly went through everything he has learned about her in the last few hours and just took a leap of faith that she wouldn't kill him. If worse came to worse she would likely only maim him.

"Okay - worth a shot then," he muttered to himself before he promptly shoved her forcefully back against her seat and brutally slammed his lips down on hers.

Natasha froze as all her senses instantly got overwhelmed by everything that was _Clint_. If she was more in control of herself and had more sleep she probably wouldn't have let him crowd her against her own seat. She wouldn't bury one hand in her red hair which was now even _messier_ no thanks to him while he gently cupped her cheek and drew her closer.

Before she could really grasp what was happening her brain shut down and she momentarily melted against his attack as he valiantly attempt to steal her breath. She was so far gone she didn't even realize she had her arms tightly wrapped around his neck and had pulled him practically into her seat on top of her. She ran her hands through his short currently spiky brown hair and ran them down his well built arms, before she gripped his uniform almost _possessively_. Only _she_ was allowed to kiss him like this. Only _she_ was allowed to be held by him. Only _she_ was allowed to be the woman he desired more than anything else. She'd _kill_ him if he ever looked at anyone else. She'd stab any woman who thinks she had a shot in _hell_ with him. He was _her_ partner. Something broke into her dangerous thoughts when she sighed softly against his mouth as she felt him trail his hand down her body and she _wanted_ him to touch her. She _missed_ this. She missed having moments like this.

And then all the memories from the past 3 months started flooding her mind before she could fully register what they were going to do to her.

_An unexpected drug induced first kiss in Colombia. _

_An emotionally charged real first kiss also in Colombia. _

_An reluctantly promised kiss after being kidnapped by Castro in their apartment. _

_A comforting quiet kiss after a nightmare in her bedroom. _

_A mind numbing kiss in Italy after she said yes. _

_A playful intense kiss in their kitchen while she wrote their fudged mission report. _

_A sweet kiss in the rain near the bridge he nearly committed suicide from. _

_A hot demanding kiss against his car two streets away from the SHIELD base. _

_A thanking kiss after her break down in Japan. _

_A quick in the middle of the action kiss after getting kicked out of Bishop's car also in Japan. _

_A goodbye kiss right before her enhancer's clocked out. _

_A soft hesitant first kiss in Natalia's head. _

_A crazy harsh kiss after getting enhanced back into Natasha. _

_A painful kiss after his nightmarish hallucinations about all the little girls in the Japanese trafficking base who died. _

_A meaningful kiss in his room after they fell asleep together for the first time._

_An underhanded kiss in a sweaty dirty dance club before she ditched him._

Every single moment between them ran through her head as he kissed the air out of her lungs just like she wanted after he first woke up.

But she should push him away. She should tell him they didn't have the time for this dramatics. She should hit him for distracting them.

But he was _kissing_ her so strongly - and she hasn't more than just hugged him in the last 9 _weeks_.

The last time he had kissed her was up against a mountain side before everything went downhill in Romania. She started to get lost in his kiss when her traitorous brain suddenly fast tracked everything that just happened in the last 5 hours through the forefront of her brain.

And then she promptly froze.

_He wasn't Clint. _

The next thing he knew he was being shoved back and brutally punched in the face.

_BAM_!

"_What are you doing_?" she shouted at him in alarm as she back up against her side of the car and breathed heavily - he kissed her like _her_ Clint did. It was freaking her out. Clint groaned as his head sharply hit the window and winced from her brutal sucker punch to the cheek. She was kind enough to avoid his eye, but not kind enough to not hit him with at _least_ enough force to hurt him - if not break his jaw.

His face hurt like _shit_.

But he wasn't dead.

"How do you feel?" he gasped as he tried to catch his breath. Natasha stared at him in disbelief as she shook with barely controllable anger.

"_Like stabbing you!"_ she shouted in unrestrained _outrage_. Clint sighed in relief and sagged against the car door.

She was saying it - not _doing_ it.

There was a difference.

"Okay - _good_. Do you feel like you're still out of control?" he asked in concern while holding his injured face tenderly. Natasha sat there and _fumed_, nearly consumed by her fury directed towards the Barton that wasn't her partner. _How dare he kiss her?_ Howdare he try and be _him_?

She wasn't thinking clearly enough to consider the fact that he _was_ Clint - he was just missing a few keys things at the moment.

Instead she mentally brutally stabbed this Barton 400 times in her head before she could spit out a reply without turning her thoughts into actions.

Because if she killed him everything she was fighting for would be _pointless_.

"Yes, you _bastard_. It didn't work. Kissing me is not going to fix this shit," she spat viciously balling her hands into fists. Clint sighed and watched her tightly hold herself back from doing him any more damage then she already did.

Damn, his partner had a serious temper. Clint's eyes fell in shame - he didn't know what to do. He didn't know her long enough to know what to do.

"Then tell me what to do Natasha. Tell me how to help you," Clint pleaded with her. Something burned inside of him to comfort her - but he didn't know her well enough to know what she needed. Natasha buried her head into her arms and squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to bring up every memory of Clint she ever had and tried to guess what he would say.

And then she finally knew.

Natasha took a deep breath and told him.

"Tell me _'Tasha, everything is going to be okay'_," she whispered into her knees. Clint's breath caught in his throat.

Tasha.

_That's her name. _

She tensed as a shaky hand brushed through her messy tangled red hair. She felt herself be tugged sideways before she was pressed up against the chest of the man she had just attacked. Why won't he just leave her? Why does he come back just to get hurt again?

_Because even if I don't remember you Tasha - no one has ever fought for me like you are fighting for me. _

She felt him take a deep steady breath against her ear.

"_Tasha_, everything is going to be okay," Clint whispered sincerely against her hair.

And then she felt _calm_.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Sleep-deprived mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted Natasha really needs her partner back. Time to see who is at Dmitri's apartment. **

**It's going to be...interesting. Crashing another partnership's off time. **

**lolz...trolls...dark humor. LOL.**

**I smell...action shoot out. LOL.**


	108. Chapter 108

**I Dare You **

**A/N: CIA agents! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TODAY?**

**Going to get a visit from a couple of master assassins that work for SHIELD eh?**

**Probably they didn't get the memo -or they wouldn't react like they do. **

**Haha. I crack myself up. (Yes I am sort of crazy like that).**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 108 **

10 minutes after Natasha calmed down and finally, _finally_ managed to lock down her emotions that were actually _seriously_ pissing her off, the two master assassins were standing on the roof of a shopping complex which was easy enough to climb. It was situated right across from a sleek glass building Dmitri Braginksi apparently lived in. It was an upper class and modern compound that was probably worth a shit load of money. He lived on the edge of Manhattan after all.

It was _beautiful_.

It was _sickening_.

The master assassins who were stuck on a pathetic SHIELD payroll were kind of jealous.

"_Wow_. He lives in a nice place," Clint muttered as he scanned for the best way to get across the 10 foot gap between the two roof tops. Natasha huffed irritably.

"Yeah - apparently they pay well in CIA?" she grumbled back as she tugged her backpack off and zipped it open to search for something. She refused to compare the classy apartment building to their own rundown home on the shady side of Brooklyn.

She _refused_ to call the curling feeling in her stomach jealousy.

They don't even spend more than 2 _days_ a week in their shitty apartment that became something like a home which was outfitted with all their personal security features and signs of two people living there. His stuff and her stuff were scattered all over the place because they came in like a storm, died on their beds and left like a storm.

Also, New York was freaking _expensive_. It was the initial reason she lived with her partner in the first place. She heard Clint scoff beside her.

"I doubt it. This is million dollar property. He had to have money stashed from somewhere else to afford this," Clint said carefully with a calculative look on his face. Natasha glanced up and gave him a blank look.

She really didn't care.

"Then we'll ask him about illegal piles of money he may or may not have sitting around in suspicious banks accounts while we are interrogating him," she muttered as she _finally_ found what she was looking for in her bag. She a took deep breath and pulled out the _infamous Hawkeye bow_. Her hand twitched as she held the compact weapon which was utterly unless in her own hands.

She valiantly fought the urge to break it in half and hear a satisfying _snap_.

She wasn't going to lie - she hated this thing's _guts_. It was _medieval_. It was a _joke_. It was an annoying and highly effective tool her partner had mastered and came in handy in situations like these.

She hated it.

Point blank.

Tell her she is jealous of an inanimate object and she'll shot you - with prejudice.

Clint glanced down and his eyes lit up when he caught sight of his favourite thing in the entire world.

"I _knew_ you would come to the dark side Romanoff. You have come to realize how epic and awesome Josie is right?" he asked with the same quiet excitement in his voice as he took his bow and his matching quiver from her hand while she silently scowled at the ground. He snapped the bow open and tested the weight in his hand and pulled on the string to make sure it was tight and ready for good use.

"Why are you scowling at the floor?" he asked calmly without looking at her. Natasha's face instantly went blank.

"I'm not scowling," she said with a warningly look in her eyes. A slow sly grin spread across his unconventionally handsome face.

"Are you je-" he started to tease but she cut him off with a burning look.

"_Shut up_ Barton, or I will stick your own bow up your ass and stab you in the eyes with an exploding arrow you like so much," she growled threateningly while she swiftly stood up and dusted the dirt off her pants. Clint suddenly smirked knowingly at her.

It made her want to punch him _again_.

"You even know my favourite arrow - you make me _swoon_ Romanoff," Clint said dramatically swaying just to piss her off. Natasha's eye twitched maddeningly.

Something told him he succeeded.

"Shoot the damn rope before I shove you off this roof without it attached to you Barton," Natasha said warningly with an air of seriousness crackling about her. Clint seemed to catch onto her genuinely pissed mood and shrugged as he glanced down at his bow.

"Do you have my shooting glove and arm guard in there too?" he asked quietly gripping his favourite weapon. He still wasn't used to someone else having all his stuff - it would have rubbed him the wrong way if she was anyone else. He thinks he was okay with it only because she was his partner and...the other stuff. There was just something about her that made him feel unguarded and calm even if he knew she was probably one of the most dangerously violent people he has ever met. Natasha fished out both items from her bag and held them out for him wordlessly. Clint stared at her dead in the eye as he reached out to grab the specialized gear sitting in the palm of her hand.

"Did I ever teach you how to shoot?" he asked as his fingers lingered on her hand for several more seconds then strictly required. Natasha narrowed her eyes as she felt him stroke her wrist before he picked up the gear and silently pulled back without making a comment about his silent caress.

He was playing with _fire_.

"No - I'm no good with a bow Barton," she said cautiously. Clint grinned at her petulant look - it was one of the only weapons she had difficulty with. The Red Room saw no use for teaching her archery. Besides, he was the first assassin she has ever met who excelled using that particular weapon. She watched him silently put on the arm guard and glove before he flexed his hand a few times to get a good feel of them. She stiffened when he suddenly reached out and gently grazed his glove cover fingers against her soft cheek.

"Remind me to teach you archery after we get my memories back," he said calmly with a quiet smile. Natasha went completely still before she narrowed her eyes.

"Don't be too confident Barton," she said carefully. Arrogance is the number one thing that got careless agents killed in the field. Clint shook his head too and suddenly fully cupped her cheek - cool leather against warm Russian skin.

"I know you'll get them back Tasha," he said quietly. Natasha inhaled a sharp unsteady breath when he said _Tasha_.

"How do you know that?" she asked irritably looking away. Clint gave her a warm smile.

"Because I know you won't stop until you find a way," he said calmly. He knew from just a few hours in her company that she was not the type to ever give up - not until every option has been exhausted and there was no longer any use in hoping for the impossible.

"Don't put that much faith in me Barton," Natasha said guardedly. Barton stroked his leather covered thumb once across her cheek one last time before he took a large step back and picked up a certain arrow with a strong rope attached to it that will be able to hold them up.

"Everyone deserves a little faith Natasha," he said quietly as he notched the grappling arrow on his bow and aimed at the balcony straight across from them. He really hoped he could make this shot after two months of being out of commission. Natasha silently watched him breathe steady even breaths as he focused on the best hooking spot. She watched his arms tense and relax, his posture straighten and align perfectly with his aim before he took a sharp breath, aimed and fired.

_WHOOSH_.

The arrows silently flew across the gap between the two buildings and wrapped around the railing on the balcony right above Dmitri's apartment. Once the grappling hook locked onto the edge of the railing Clint was able to come back into his head and shake himself out of shooting mode.

"Bulls eye," he whispered as he exhaled steadily and lowered his bow. He silently put his inner anxiety that he had lost his skills along with his memories to rest - because that clearly wasn't the case. His body still remembered what to do. Clint smiled slightly as he expertly tied his end of the rope along the railing on their side of the roof. Natasha just sighed as she picked up her backpack - he was going to give her a headache with his silent testing himself moments.

She already knew he was a perfect shot every single time. It was a gift that was a blessing and a curse. Being the best was not always a good thing when you are young and surrounded by jealous adolescents who have a thirst for bringing the brightest to their knees.

She on the other hand was _not_ a constant perfect shot - but she definitely made up for it with the speed of her reaction time and her frightening ability to make spontaneous decisions on the spot that saved both their lives on multiple occasions.

"You always hit a bull's eye Barton - that's not new," she said quietly as she tested the sturdiness of the rope before she grabbed on to it and took a leap of faith that it would hold her weight. Clint gave her a surprised look as she carefully started making her way towards the other side.

"Most people are suspicious of my work!" Clint called out as she got half way across the rope. Natasha snorted.

Oh she knew.

"Don't worry - I used to be one of them too. However, you get used to eccentric partners and their weird ways though," she replied as she shuffled her way across the thick rope across the gap between the two buildings. Clint collapsed his bow as he watched her and hooked the quiver onto his back before he followed after her. When Natasha finally reached the end of rope she glanced down and took a deep breath before she left go and gracefully landed on her feet on the empty balcony with a soft _thump_. She held her breath as she glanced into the window on her right - but there was no one in the bedroom. She heard another quiet _thump_ behind her and knew it was him by his silent familiar presence more than anything else. That...and she could feel him staring again.

"Barton if you don't stop burning your creepy sniper stare into my head I will strangle you," she said warningly. Clint promptly snorted.

"I can see why I like you," he said warmly from behind her. Natasha scoffed and glanced over her shoulder to give him a withering look.

"Well enlighten me - because I still don't understand why you like me," she muttered as she felt around the edge of the window and found the latch on the right side.

"Because you don't take my bullshit," he said calmly. She tensed.

"I don't take _anyone's_ bullshit Barton," she said stiffly. That was not enlightening _at all_. He chuckled.

"No, I don't think you would. But I'm not a pleasant conversationalist Natasha. There's a reason I worked alone before whatever compelled me to offer you a place with SHIELD as my partner. What really surprises me though, is that fact that you accepted at all. Why did you accept Natasha?" he asked carefully. Natasha stared holes into the window as she kept watch for any movement - there was none. She couldn't tell if anyone was home until she got the window open.

"You had the best offer," she muttered. Clint's eyes saddened.

"What if someone came along and gave you a better offer? Would you leave then?" he asked quietly. Natasha smiled bitterly.

"No one will ever give me a better offer Barton," she said shaking her head. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"Why?" he asked cautiously. She turned around and gave him a firm look.

"Because yours was the only one that was _genuine_. You had no ulterior motives for taking me in. You didn't ask for sex as payment for my debt even if I would have given it to you - you didn't ask me for anything at all. All you asked was for me to be your partner - so I accepted," she said quietly. Clint gave her a pensive look as he stared at her for a brief moment. She wondered what he was thinking as he scanned her face with a calculative expression. He was contemplating something.

"Maybe I was getting tired of working alone," he muttered to himself under his breath. Natasha raised an eyebrow.

"Did it really take you 3 years to figure that out?" she asked warily. Clint snorted.

"I can honestly say that I hate working with all other agents at SHIELD. But even if it's only been a few hours - I can tell I like working with you," he said honestly. Natasha flushed at his honesty and instantly spun around and quickly got to work on breaking the lock. She schooled her face within seconds - but he had already noticed.

"You're flustered," he said with light amusement. Natasha huffed as she heard the telltale _click_. Success.

"Shut up Barton - we are about to break into a potentially highly dangerous CIA agent's home - keep your eyes open and your annoying comments to yourself," she said warningly as she carefully pushed open the glass door with her gun steady in her hand. The room was empty - but that didn't mean the entire apartment was void of life. She paused as she heard a slight _creak_ in the floor board - half a second later she realized it was just him.

"Keep moving - I'll cover you," he whispered in her ear. Natasha nodded before she carefully stepped into the room and made her way towards the door that likely led into the hall.

"I'm going to open the door on three and if they are anywhere near us we'll jump them okay?" she said steadily. Clint snorted.

"I feel like we are muggers," he said with a sigh. Natasha glared at him.

"Shut up and _focus_ Barton!" she hissed. Clint rolled his eyes.

"Just count Romanoff," he said dryly. Natasha huffed and wrapped one hand around the door handle and the other tightly around her gun.

"3,2, 1 - _now_!" she said firmly, before she quickly _yanked_ the door open and they were both aiming their guns down opposite ends of the hall with their backs pressed against each other. A second later they both came to the same depressing conclusion.

_The hall was empty_.

"Nobody is home," Natasha said with a irritated sigh as she lowered her gun slightly.

_Fantastic_. They had to play the waiting game now.

"We could always try _her_ apartment?" Clint suggested warily as he walked into the living room behind her.

"Or we can wait and see if they-" Natasha started to say when they suddenly heard loud muffled voices on the other side of the front door as the doorknob started to rattle slightly. They both went on high alert.

"Where do we hide?" he asked carefully as he rapidly scanned the ground floor of the surprisingly tidy apartment. Either Dmitri was a clean freak, Kate Bishop was here way more often than not or they had cleaning service. Then they thought about how much time any of them really had on their hands when they lived such fast paced and dangerous lives.

Probably the cleaning service.

"Why should we hide?" Natasha asked incredulously. They could just rush them at the door - for crying out loud they were seasoned assassins! Clint gave her a dry look. She was so impatient.

"Don't you want to hear what they might let slip while they think they are alone?" he asked carefully. Natasha's expression went blank - maybe she should have thought of that, but she wanted to get this done as fast as possible. Stalling would only drag out the inevitable fight anyway. She highly doubted Dmitri or Kate would come willingly.

They would have to be thoroughly persuaded.

Both their eyes snapped towards the front door as it clicked and the knob started to turn.

"_Move_!" Natasha hissed as she shoved her partner back down the hall.

5 seconds later the front door swung open to reveal two CIA agents covered in medical gauze, scraps, bruises and frighteningly different expressions on their faces. One dark haired American woman stormed into the apartment with rage burning in her eyes while a calmer wary looking half-Russian followed at a slower pace behind her.

_Trouble in paradise?_

"I hate your _guts_ Dmitri!" Kate bellowed as she literally stomped through the living room and _slammed_ her hand on the light switch and basking the entire apartment with light. Her partner sighed as he shut the door behind her.

"Really Kate - are we really going to do this right now?" Dmitri asked tiredly as he followed after her raging injured storming figure. She was clearly hurt - she was going to make her injures worse at the rate she was going.

"Yes, we are going to do this right _now_! Are you insane?" she shouted as she spun around to glare at him. Dmitri's eyes grew wary.

"No. Not the last time I checked Kate," he said quietly trying to defuse the argument by projecting the calmest aura he could manage - but that tone just pissed his partner off even _more_.

"You are! If you weren't, we would have gotten the documents on time and not have to run for our lives to get out of there!" she spat as she threw her hands up in the air in outrage. Dmitri followed her rapid movements with concerned eyes.

"Take it easy Katie - you're going to pull your stitches if you keep moving like that," he said gently. Kate froze as her eyes flashed.

That was the wrong thing to say to a clearly distressed partner.

Someone should write a spy etiquette handbook - things to say and not to say to keep your partnership from going to _shit_.

"Don't you _dare_ try and distract me from being angry with you Braginksi!" she hissed at him. Dmitri only had time to blink once and then suddenly she was doubling over in pain. She would have collapsed to the ground if he hadn't stepped forward and caught her easily. Kate breathed harshly against his chest for a few moments and he shook his head slowly. She was going to kill herself at this rate.

And he always works so hard to keep her alive too.

"See? I warned you - but you never listen to me," he said with a sigh as he wrapped a steady arm around her waist and easily held her up even as her legs gave out in exhaustion beneath her.

"Why should I listen to you when you never listen to _me_?" she asked angrily gripping his shirt in her fists. Dmitri's eyes darkened as he tightened his hold on her waist.

"Kate. I am your partner - I pushed you out of the line of fire. That's my job isn't it?" he said carefully. He felt her start shaking in anger again and sighed. She wasn't in the mood to listen to his logic.

"No one asked you to jump off a fucking building to save me okay?" she growled viciously. Dmitri paused in his response when he suddenly got face full of her hair. He couldn't help himself and took a deep breath - it smelled like violets. He liked violets. Violets were not as violent as his partner was though.

"I didn't jump off a building - it was a bloody fruit stand woman," he corrected dryly. Kate instantly went rigid in his arms.

"You dyed your hair blond and now you act like one too!" she muttered irritably into his shirt. Dmitri suddenly looked _highly_ insulted.

"Hey! Blonds are sexy as hell!" Dmitri defended himself with a scowl. Kate instantly broke out of his unrestrictive hold on her and glared daggers at him.

"You were too reckless! I was handling the thugs _fine_!" she shouted as she grabbed onto his shirt and shook him back and forth. The fact that he let her manhandle him spoke volumes of their long standing partnership.

"Yes, you were handling the ones you could see fine Kate, but you didn't see the sniper lurking in the fire escape behind you okay? He had a riffle trained on your forehead Kate - he was going to shoot you," Dmitri said steadily as she continued to shake him. Kate froze.

"You got shot _instead_," she said in defeat, _finally_ being drained of her anger and her death grip on his shirt loosened somewhat. She felt a familiar hand gently stroke her arm and tensed.

"Better me then you," he whispered honestly. Kate rapidly shook her head.

"You're an idiot," she muttered.

Meanwhile in a cramped shoe closet just down the hall two master assassins were awkwardly shoved up against each other while they were crowded by several coats that were both male and female styles and a heck of a lot of shoes scattered all over the floor - high heeled shoes. Apparently either Dmitri was a cross dresser in his spare time or Bishop kept an army of shoes in her partner's apartment.

Or, we can safely assume she pretty much lived here even if she might also have her own apartment.

"Do _we_ have bipolar fights like that?" Clint asked flatly. Natasha brutally pinched his arm and he winced silently in pain.

"Shut up and keep listening," she hissed. Clint snorted.

"If they start transitioning from fighting...to well _not_ fighting, we're getting out of here and stopping them before any clothes start flying and hitting the floor," Clint said dryly. Natasha just _stared _at him.

"You're _impossible_ Barton," she growled as she banged her forehead against his chest in frustration. She could feel his silent laughter as he shook in place.

"I bet 10 bucks that's where this is going Romanoff," he whispered in her ear as he placed his hands on her hips to steady her so that she didn't lose her balance in the crowded space they were stuck in. Natasha felt her breath catch in her throat - _he was so much like Clint_. She shoved that thought away and instantly slammed her hand over his mouth in irritation.

"Shut _up_ Barton," she growled fiercely. He was going to give them away!

But at the same time she so did _not_ want to have an audio performance of whatever these two CIA agents did during their down time. Kate and Dmitri were recorded to be partners for over 2 years. A lot of things could happen in two years.

Judging but the soft undertone in their voices - it would be _mortifying_.

Clint looked like he was ready to puke.

Natasha would shoot him if he puked on _her_.

Back outside in the hall two CIA agents were getting really close and really unprofessional - _really_ fast.

They were in their own private space after all.

"Are you done yelling at me yet?" Dmitri asked quietly in her ear. He felt his partner shift awkwardly in his arms and a knowing smile spread across his face. He had her cornered and she didn't even know it.

Well she did - they did this dance often enough.

"I'm done yelling. Not done being _angry_ though," Kate muttered stubbornly even if she knew what was coming. The next thing she knew she was being shoved back against the hallway wall and found herself crowded by her very handsome and very well built partner who had his body pressed up against hers in the most sinful manner.

"Is there anything I can do to make you _less_ angry Katie?" Dmitri asked breathing a little heavier against her ear. Kate instantly flushed as he nuzzled her neck. She melted on the spot.

_Oh shit_. Natasha and Clint thought at the same time. They were desperate enough to do anything to stop this madness before it went too far.

Who were they kidding? It's _already_ gone too far.

"There are a couple of things you could do," Kate said breathily as she wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged him even closer. She buried her face in his chest to stifle her soft sigh of pleasure when his hands slipped under her shirt and started caressing her soft skin. Dmitri laughed quietly at her obvious appreciation for his advances.

"Like what exactly?" he whispered suggestively in her ear.

They both paused when they head the very _obvious_ sound from behind them. Almost like it was on purpose meant to catch their attention before anything _not_ T rated started happening.

_Thump_.

That instantly killed the atmosphere.

"Did you hear that?" she asked suspiciously pushing him back and stepping away from the wall with a guarded look on her face. Dmitri sighed at the loss of feeling her familiar body pressed against his and gave her a wary look in return before he scanned the empty apartment. Kate narrowed her eyes as she carefully walked down the hall with Dmitri not too far behind her. She stopped in the middle of the hall as she stared at the closet door for a long moment.

"The sound didn't come from here Kate...," he said warningly. Kate shook her head slowly.

"No I swear it did," she said carefully. Dmitri continued to scan the hall as she stared at the closet.

"Give me your gun Dmitri," she said steadily. She was going to kill these people stupid enough to break into their apartment while she was god damn _busy_ with her partner. She heard him sigh before a cool metal weapon was slipped into her waiting hand.

"Careful," he muttered in her ear.

She took a deep breath and tightened her grip on her gun before she promptly _yanked_ open the closet door ready to shoot whoever was there on sight. She aimed her gun and stared at the sight in front of her.

_There was no one there. _

"I told you it didn't come from here Kate," Dmitri said with a tired sigh as he turned around to search the rest of the apartment when he came face to face with the barrel of a gun himself.

_Holy shit. _

"You're sharp Braginksi - but not _that_ sharp," Natasha Romanoff said with a half shrug as she put her finger on the trigger. Dmitri clenched his jaw - shit he should have seen this coming.

"How do you know my last name?" he asked tensely staring at the gun in his face. He felt his partner shift tensely behind him. They both caught movement in the kitchen behind Romanoff and Kate instantly shot a bullet through the doorway. They all heard the sound of pans clattering to the floor as something hit the wall instantly alerting them to the second assassin in the apartment.

"_OI_! You could have killed me!" a familiar annoyed male voice shouted in irritation. Kate narrowed her eyes.

Oh dear god they were _both_ here.

"Why are you two here Barton?" Kate shouted as she fired a second warning bullet into the kitchen.

Natasha's eyes shot towards her partner as he dived behind the kitchen counter. It was only a split second shift but the next thing she knew Dmitri had a gun in his hand and he was shooting at her.

_BANG! BANG! BANG! _

Natasha instantly ducked and grabbed a random book and threw it at him before she shot the light in the ceiling and nasty burning sparks flew everywhere and forced everyone to dive for cover. She felt someone grab her by the back of her uniform before she was suddenly dragged into the kitchen and shoved behind the kitchen counter just as bullets started flying at them again through the kitchen doorway. She felt strong arms spin her around and knock her to the ground.

She let all of that happen out of trust.

"Are you okay?" Clint shouted in her ear over the gun fire as he planted his hands on either side of her head against the floor to keep his weight from crushing her. Natasha took several calming breaths as she griped her gun tighter while she stared up at her tense and concerned looking partner. It was nice to know the concern in his eyes didn't change. She was here for a reason and she wasn't leaving until she got what she wanted.

"We need to get them to stop shooting," she said carefully giving her partner a firm look. Clint stared down at her for a long moment before he opened his mouth.

"_We come in peace_ - _stop shooting at us!"_ he shouted at the top of his lungs. Natasha literally _banged_ her forehead against the counter side.

That was _not_ what she meant.

But it was worth a shot.

"Get out of our apartment Barton! Japan was the _last_ time I ever wanted to see your ugly face!" Kate shouted in anger. Clint winced. Oh her words were_ spit fire_ - they might have even hurt his pride a little if he didn't have someone as frighteningly beautiful like his own partner to prove that it's not always about looks. She clearly wasn't with him because of looks.

"I'm sorry don't exactly know who you are!" he shouted back as he ducked when the bowl full of potato chips on the counter exploded on impact with a flying bullet.

"I don't give a _shit_ if you forgot me or not! Take your assassin asses and _get out_!" she bellowed. Clint slid down the counter side and gave his partner sitting beside him a pleading look - it wasn't his fault he doesn't remember. Natasha sighed. This was insanity.

"We're not here to kill you Bishop!" Natasha called out as she pressed her back against the counter.

"We don't believe you Widow," Dmitri said darkly and he loaded his gun with another round and fired at them again, instantly shattering a cabinet full of glass in front of them.

"Hey! I _like_ those cups!" Kate hissed in anger from the other side of the doorway beside him. Dmitri faltered in his grip on his gun and stopped shooting for a second. _Oh_ _shit_.

"Sorry," he muttered as he redirected his aim to chip at the edge of the counter. Natasha and Clint both instantly inched away from the corner to avoid being hit.

"You're going to run out of bullets eventually!" Natasha warned loudly as she stared down at the single gun in her hand. This was not enough to last them through a full out gun down. She narrowed her eyes when she heard not a single peep from the man sitting beside her. She glanced at her partner and found him innocently twirling a specialized arrow in his hand while flashing her a mischievous grin. She banged her head back against the counter. _Ugh_.

"Gas arrow?" she asked in defeat. His grin widened - oh he _liked_ having someone around who knew how he thought. It made showing off his clever moves _that_ much more satisfying.

"Yeah - that would work a lot better than waiting until they run out of bullets," he said simply before he took his bow and notched the arrow and waited for the right moment to strike. He suddenly glanced at her with a slightly flirty smirk.

"Lovely Russian partner of mine - would you be so kind as to shoot at them for me so that they duck out of the way for a second?" he asked calmly but with a cheeky glint in his eyes was all youth and a bit of smugness. Natasha stared at him for a long moment with a expression that said - _you are a childish idiot_- before she silently poked her head over the edge and fired into the doorway.

The second the two CIA agents took cover beside the doorway walls Clint jumped up and released his knock out gas arrow and smirked as it flew right into their zone.

3

2

1

_BOOM_.

"Oh shit gas - _move_ Bishop!" Dmitri shouted as he shoved her down the hall towards the living room. Natasha took a deep breath and sprung into action.

"Let's go Barton," she said steadily before she dragged her extremely smug looking partner through the second doorway leading out of the kitchen behind them.

"_Score one for SHIELD and zero for CIA_," he said with a small fist pump as she manhandled him down the hall. Natasha's face went stony.

Oh dear _god_.

"You have _no_ idea how glad I am that you are normally three years older than me Barton," Natasha muttered darkly.

She wouldn't be able to stand him for too long at 20 years old - even if he had his nice moments.

2 minutes later the entire apartment was dead silent as 4 spies tried to figure out where the other team was lurking. Clint and Natasha were both breathing silently as they had their backs pressed up against the wall on either of the entrance into the living room. They couldn't hear a sound but they were pretty sure CIA was on the other side of the one foot thick wall with guns in their hands too.

If they didn't play this properly someone was going to die.

Natasha took another silent breath and decided to throw caution to the wind and just give them the damn olive branch.

"We promise not to shoot if you don't shoot us Bishop," she said quietly as she gripped her gun tightly in her hand just in case. She didn't actually want to kill these two agents - not unless they changed her initial opinion about them. Dmitri might have an uncanny resemblance to the man Natasha hated more than anyone else in the entire world - but he was nothing like him. 5 minutes of observing his interaction with his CIA partner told her that.

Whatever their partnership was based on - it was _not_ an act.

"Why should we trust you Romanoff?" Kate answered back guardedly from _right_ behind the wall Natasha was leaning against. Natasha took a deep breath and locked eyes with her partner.

"Judge our character and consider the fact that you did not know we were here until we purposefully alerted you to our presence," Natasha said carefully. Kate clenched her jaw and glared daggers at her _own_ partner. _How the fuck did they not know?_

Dmitri gave her an apologetic look - he didn't notice either.

"If you make any sudden movements - we're going to shoot you," Dmitri said warningly. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"If you shoot either one of us - you're dead too," Clint said threateningly. If someone fired they were all going to died tonight.

"We won't if you don't," Kate said carefully. They all took a deep breath and stepped away from their side of the wall and into the sight of each other.

They all narrowed their eyes as they stood at a standoff with 4 guns pointed in both directions ready to shoot each other on sight.

"It's hard to talk with guns in your face," Natasha said evenly. Kate narrowed her eyes.

"Not happening sunshine," she said warningly. There was no way in hell she was putting her gun down.

They all tensed when they heard police sirens in the distance. Dmitri's face darkened.

"Oh for the love of god I have to file a police report now. Do you know how annoying those are?" Dmitri seethed in outrage while glaring at the two tensely breathing SHIELD agents standing in front of him with matching edgy expressions. Clint scoffed in disbelief.

"Calm the hell down. We just wanted to talk - your partner shot at us first!" Clint said irritably. Dmitri shot him a livid look - he was calm with his partner but this bastard was pissing him off.

"You broke into my apartment you _bastard_!" Dmitri exclaimed cocking his gun and putting his finger on the trigger.

The sirens got closer and closer and both Kate and Natasha's eyes shot towards the window that was flashing red and blue.

"Dmitri we need to leave - _now_," Kate said warningly. Dmitri's face tightened in anger. He knew that. Natasha's eyes flashed - she came far too close to let them leave yet.

"You're not going anywhere until you talk to us," she said darkly. Dmitri _stared_ at her.

"Why should I?" he asked challengingly. Natasha's eyes hardened.

"Do you know a man named Vasil Yago?" she asked with a menacing look swirling in her eyes. Dmitri's expression didn't change - but his partner's did.

"No. We _don't_," Kate said suddenly stepping in front of her partner and glaring at the Russian assassin who eyes were trained on Dmitri's face and didn't leave his for a second.

"Then do you know a man named Vasil Braginksi?" Natasha asked again without looking away from his tense expression. The twitch in Bishop's shooting finger gave it away.

"Kate," Dmitri said quietly putting a hand on her shoulder and pushing her gently but firmly to the side so that she wasn't physically blocking their shot at him with her body. He would never let her protect him like that. Kate's eyes flashed in anger.

"No. They come barging into our apartment demanding answers that we don't have to give them Dmitri! You don't have to give them _anything_!" Kate said in frustration. Dmitri inhaled a careful breath.

"_Kate_," he repeated more firmly. Kate heard the warning in his tone and finally backed down.

"You're the one who doesn't want to drag up his past Dmitri," she said under her breath. She clenched her hand around her gun when he squeezed her shoulder.

"It's okay. Don't worry about it. We need to have this conversation somewhere else," Dmitri said carefully giving Natasha a pointed look. Natasha felt her partner hover behind her and knew he would fire a taser and knock out both the CIA agents if she gave him the signal.

But she chose not to go that route.

Something told her it would be counterproductive to what she wanted from them.

"Then start walking - we're right behind you," Natasha said carefully. She needed answers before she dragged Dmitri's ass into SHIELD high security prison. She needed to know how the hell he knew Yago and what he knew about him.

"Do you think we are stupid to turn our backs to you?" Kate asked in disgust. Clint stared at her in disbelief.

"Then start walking backwards - but start _walking_ Bishop!" Clint growled irritably. They all heard the lobby door bang open downstairs and knew they were going to get caught any second now. They promptly all _shut up_ and hightailed it out of there with extreme hast.

SHIELD and CIA would kill them all if they got caught.

Not even 3 minutes later the front door leading into the destroyed apartment banged open and the room was instantly flooded with New York police officers.

"POLICE! EVERYONE PUT YOUR GUNS DOWN!" the head officer shouted with a gun in his hand. The rest of his team poured into all the rooms in search of armed foes. They all came back with the same conclusion - _no one was here._

"What the hell happened in here?" the head officer asked guardedly as he lowered his gun and stared at the utter mess with caution. There were bullet holes everywhere, broken dishes, broken furniture and even a few broken windows.

It was a war zone without the blood.

"No bodies Sir," one of the junior officers said in disbelief.

Well no shit.

It was a shoot out between 4 of the best spies in the world. They were too good to leave any bodies.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**A/N: Two epic spy teams trying to psyche each other out! HA! **

**HINT: NO Dmitri and Vasil Yago are NOT brothers or family. I'm better then that! **

**Was anyone else laughing through the heated Dmitri/Kate moment? **

**I bet you don't laugh when Clint and Natasha get that frisky (because we know they do - you've read it). **

**Interesting isn't it? **

**It's all about context haha. **


	109. Chapter 109

**I Dare You **

**A/N: INSANITY! or science?**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 109 **

As the entire building Dmitri lived in got swarmed by literally 50 something New York officers 4 shady figures stood in the shadows of an alley one street away as they witnessed the madness continue across the street.

"You know you two are paying for that right?" Dmitri said irritably gesturing towards the chaos behind him. Clint scoffed.

"In your dreams - have insurance clean it up," he muttered as he leaned against the alley wall while he carefully watched the police officers run around like headless chickens trying to figure out what to make of the mess the 4 of them left behind.

What a magnificent mess indeed.

Kate was the first the tear her eyes away from the mob in front of their apartment building and promptly stepped in front of her partner's line of sight and gave him a firm look.

"We need to keep moving. They are going to start looking for suspects in the area soon," Kate said cautiously. Dmitri promptly snorted.

"Forget suspects - that is _my_ apartment - they're looking for me," Dmitri muttered as he banged his fist against the wall. Clint watched the man's muscles tense as he clenched his hand into a fist. He can't really blame him for feeling agitated by the entire situation.

They kind of ruined his down time with his partner.

Sucks to be them.

"Then let's get out of here. Why are we standing in an alley anyway?" Natasha asked as she finally looked away from the mess they created and stared at the two CIA agents who were having a silent intense staring match as they debated something with just their eyes.

Natasha was also starting to feel short bouts of dizziness every few minutes but she ignored the feeling as usual. Dmitri finally seemed like he lost the eyeballing fight as he breathed sharply and irritably looked away from his glaring partner.

"We aren't leaving here by streets that can catch our faces on the video cameras Romanoff. We're going down," Dmitri muttered as he crouched down beside a circular man hole on the floor of the alley and promptly started to move it.

"What are you _doing_...?" Clint asked in alarm. Dmitri ignored him as he shoved the metal door all the way and revealed a dark deep hole with no bottom in sight.

It smelled like shit.

Obviously.

"After you oh honoured guests," Dmitri said sarcastically. Clint stared down the god damn rabbit hole and balked.

"We are _not_ going down a manhole," he said flatly. Natasha sighed from beside him.

"Not just a manhole," she muttered reluctantly. Clint shook his head and instantly scowled and backed up.

"I refuse to go down a god damn sewer entrance that leads to who knows where," Clint said stubbornly. Dmitri shot him an annoyed look. They didn't asked to be forced out of their apartment and then suddenly find themselves forced to use their emergency route out of here.

"You want to talk to us? Follow us. You want to leave? _Don't come back_," Dmitri growled warningly before he promptly faced his partner and tugged her forward mindful of her several injures that still bugged him that he couldn't prevent from happening.

"Go first?" he asked quietly. Kate gave him a warning look. Good thing he worded it as a question and not a demand or she would _flip her shit_.

"Overprotective asshole," Kate muttered under her breath as she brushed passed him and promptly started climbing the ladder down into the hole. Dmitri glanced back at the SHIELD agents standing beside him and found Barton staring at him with a raised an eyebrow. Dmitri's expression darkened as his ears turned the slightly shade of red.

Oh shit they heard _everything_.

"Say just one word Barton. Just _one_ word and I will end you," Dmitri said warningly. Clint grinned slyly.

"I have a scary Russian," he said simply. _Click_. Clint paused as he felt a cool metal digging into the side of his head.

_Uh oh. _

"Don't use me as a threatening tool Barton," Natasha said warningly as she clicked the safety off her gun. Clint eyed her gun silently - she wouldn't.

He knew very well she wouldn't - but he played along with the bluff anyway.

"Yes Sir," he said warily. Dmitri stared at them in disbelief.

"Stop _flirting_ and get your asses down here or leave us the hell _alone_," Dmitri said in disgust as he sharply cut into their intimidation moment and turned away from the two eccentric assassins eyeing each other threateningly.

_Weridos_.

5 minutes later 4 spies were standing in front of a sealed entranced that blended right into the stone sewer wall.

"You have a bunker down here? On _city_ property?" Natasha asked cautiously. Dmitri shrugged.

"Clever isn't it?" he said as he unlocked the brick door with a key code and promptly shoved it open to reveal another hall leading out of the sewer. He led them down the short hall and when they rounded the corner they came face to face with a simple room outfitted with standard emergency equipment, first aid kit, a computer, a bed and a small table in the center with several documents spread across.

They weren't bad spies _at all_.

"I don't like it," Clint said huffily. Kate scoffed.

"_God_. No one said you had to like it Barton," she said irritably. Dmitri ignored _all_ of them as he flicked a switch and turned the lights on.

"Sit and don't touch anything while I secure the place," Dmitri called over his shoulder before he disappeared around the corner. Clint instantly glanced at the other half of the CIA team.

"So...how long have you two been all lovey-" Clint started to asked with suggestive eyebrows but was instantly cut off by a killer glare.

"If you want to live - _you will say nothing_," Kate hissed. Natasha pinched the bridge of her nose.

He was going to get himself _shot_ at the rate he was going.

Clint just grinned.

"Remember - you gave us the show. We didn't asked for it," he said warily. Kate instantly turned dark red - in anger or embarrassment he couldn't tell.

Probably both.

"We are not fucking porn stars Barton! We were in our _own_ god damn apartment!" she shouted in outrage. Clint scoffed and waved his hand at her.

"Yeah, but you're also damn CIA agents - don't you scout your place before you start any illegal extra-curricular activities? Hey Romanoff - tell me we always scout our place right?" he asked glancing at his stone face partner standing beside him like a statue.

"I refuse to be a part of this disgusting conversation," Natasha said coldly as she burned holes into the door Dmitri had disappeared behind. There was only _one_ reason she was here. Clint's face instantly fell when she ignored him.

"No fun," he muttered petulantly. Kate's eyes flashed - how dare he poke fun of her partnership?

"Don't tell me you don't do the same god damn thing with _her_," Kate hissed as she shoved an accusing finger into his chest. Clint scowled - he _wished_ he could remember half the shit that went down between him and the Black Widow.

"I'm sure you'd love to know all the juicy detail-_AH_!" Clint shouted in pain as he got roughly smacked upside the head with the butt of a solid gun. The next thing he knew there was an angry pulsing Russian assassin in his face. He took a steady breath and willed himself not to pale.

Damn she was _scary_.

"Shut up _right now_ or I will strangle you and slam a muzzle on your face," Natasha said darkly as she towered over him. Clint blinked and gave her threatening stance a wary look.

"_Woof_," he said daringly. Natasha's eyes flashed dangerously - he was dead meat.

"At this rate your own partner will kill you before I do Barton," a dry voice said from behind a froze in place Clint. Natasha instantly stepped away from her currently extremely annoying partner and gave Dmitri a guarded look.

"Sit down and ignore him - we don't have a lot of time," Natasha said as she slammed a firm hand over her partner's mouth before he could say a _single_ word. She manhandled him into a chair at the small table while the rest of them took a seat and then they just _stared_ at each other. Clint easily slipped out of his crass attitude persona and blended right in with the serious atmosphere that suddenly suffocated the small room. Natasha took a sharp breath.

_It was times like this when she wanted her Clint back the most. _

"Why are you here?" Dmitri asked guardedly being the first to break the tense silence. Natasha's eyes darkened.

"We need a favour. But first I just want to get one thing straight - you look _exactly_ like the man that is systematically ruining our god damn lives," Natasha said guardedly as she felt her heart rate go up again. He was like a carbon copy of Vasil Yago in everything except the dyed blond instead of black hair and his mannerisms. Just sitting in his presence was making her feel agitated. Clint must be feeling the dangerous feelings coming off of her because the next thing she knew there was a warm hand on her thigh. Barton was an _asshole_ that was for certain - but he had his moments. She took several controlled breaths while she watched Dmitri stare at her with a calculative look - he was assessing her.

"And that makes you nervous," Dmitri said carefully as he leaned forward against the table between them. Natasha narrowed her eyes and instantly wiped the emotion from her face as she gave him a steady impassive look in return. The only crack in her picture of perfect control was the fact that she was crushing her partner's hand in a death grip under the table.

To his credit Clint's face didn't change no matter how hard she squeezed his wrist and likely cut off his blood circulation.

"I'm not nervous - I'm cautious. Are you two brothers?" she asked evenly. Dmitri tensed but shook his head.

"No - not exactly," Dmitri said guardedly. Natasha narrowed her eyes - what does _that_ mean?

"Then how do you know him and why do you look like him?" Natasha asked stiffly. She _needed_ to know. Dmitri took a sharp breath and she watched his eyes flicker to the exit behind her - smart. Always keep your escape way in sight.

"If you know Vasil - then you know who HYDRA is," Dmitri said giving them a _don't shit with me_ look.

Natasha didn't even _try_ to con him - the man knew his stuff.

"We know they are an underground criminal organization with a lot of power in the world right now. We know they are currently running several illegal operations in 20 different countries and that they are notorious for illegal experimentation," Natasha said carefully while giving him a look that demanded he recuperate with his own information.

He did not disappoint.

"I _am_ a HYDRA experiment," Dmitri said flatly.

_Dead silence. _

"_What_?" Clint and Natasha said guardedly at the exact same time. Dmitri sat there with his hands clasped together on the table and stared the two SHIELD agents _down_. He felt the prick of his own partner's stare and bit back a sigh when she banged her fist against the table.

She was angry with him again.

"That is _not_ true. Don't say it like that!" Kate growled furiously. Dmitri took a sharp breath and shook his head.

"Not now Kate," he said quietly without looking away from the highly alarmed SHIELD agents who could not wrap their head around what this man was saying.

_They had god damn protocols for something like this. _

Neither of them could remember them right now because they never read the entire regulation book properly. Clint skipped chapters and Natasha only read the sections that were useful to know or absolutely necessary.

"Why do you have Yago's face?" Natasha asked guardedly. Dmitri leaned back against his seat ad gave her a long look.

"Why do you think I do Romanoff?" he shot back vaguely. Natasha's eyes hardened.

"Genetic clone?" she said rigidly.

Dmitri laughed darkly and shook his head.

"No. No but good one though - I like that idea. Being someone's _fucking_ genetic shadow. And you know what else I like? Random SHIELD agents barging into my home and trying to use me to fix their own fucking problems that they can't solve themselves! _Your_ people caught Vasil! He is _your_ problem! Why are you dragging me into this mess? _Why can't people just leave me the god damn alone_!" Dmitri shouted as he slammed his fist down on the table and nearly broke the entire thing in half. Natasha and Clint's hands both instinctually went for their guns but they paused as they watched with careful eyes as Bishop put a hand on her partner's tense twitching shoulder. She even managed to pull him back against his seat as he shook in place with an _unbelievable_ amount of seething rage flashing in his eyes.

"Dmitri_ - _calm down," Kate said quietly. Dmitri took several deep ragged breaths as he stared _daggers_ into the table in front of him. Natasha could practically feel the dangerous dark vibes coming off of him in waves before he took a few more laboured breaths as the threatening aura around him faded.

He's not normal.

Not at _all_.

Natasha and Clint instantly glanced at each other with tense expressions as the man dropped his face into his hands while he tried calm down his harsh breathing rate.

"I'm sorry Kate," he muttered.

"It's okay," she said quietly as she ran a hand through his short blond hair. Clint and Natasha both glanced away - it was brutally awkward watching another partnership that seemed even tighter than their own. Then again they both just nearly die and woke up from a 2 month coma and have only been partners for 11 months while these two have been partners for years.

"Who _are_ you?" Natasha asked rigidly. Dmitri finally looked up and gave Natasha a piecing stare.

"_I don't know_," he said menacingly. Natasha instantly stiffened.

"What the hell does that mean?" she asked angrily. Dmitri's eyes hardened.

"I don't know my name. I don't know how old I am. I don't know where I'm from. I'm not half Russian like he is. I look like that bastard but I'm not him. I have his childhood memories - but I'm not him. I know where he was born, I know how his mother was brutally stabbed to death by his father right in front of him when he was 8 year old, I know how many people he has killed in the first 20 years of his life - but those are not _my_ memories. I don't have any memories of who I am. Whoever I was before HYDRA got their hands on me is _dead_ and he doesn't exist anymore," he said tensely. Clint finally leaned forward and said his own piece.

"_What the fuck_?" Clint said carefully. So eloquent - but what can you really say to something like that?

"You're not making any sense," Natasha said tensely. Dmitri shook his head and continued to stare them down.

"Think about it Romanoff. Think about _why_ I exist," Dmitri said challengingly. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"They tried to make you into a replacement replica - like a backup memory disc," Natasha said carefully. She could feel her partner staring at her in disbelief but she didn't take her eyes off the tense CIA agent sitting in front of her.

"Exactly. Plastic surgery. Memory cleansing. A hundred medical operations. Brain washing - replaced my old memories with his. If they could turn a random person into the perfect replica of him and succeed - they can do it to anyone right? I was a fucking _toy_," Dmitri growled as he stared daggers into the table.

_Silence_.

Nobody really knew what to say for a few minutes.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Natasha finally said quietly. Dmitri shook his head.

"It's fine. There is no point in getting angry now," he muttered. His life was a million times better now.

"So...how do you know her?" Clint asked carefully gesturing towards Kate. Kate scoffed at him.

"I was on assignment in Russia investigating a link between these hushed up experiments and stolen American research...and then I found _him_," she said quietly. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Found him where?" she asked guardedly. Kate took a shaky breath.

"Strapped to a medical table in a lab that I was ordered to destroy...I dragged him out of there before I set off the bomb," Kate said quietly. Clint glanced at the silent man sitting beside her.

"So she saved your life," Clint said carefully. Dmitri gave him a look that said - _no shit she saved my life._

"More than literally," Dmitri muttered before he instantly looked away. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"How?" she pressed. Kate's expression darkened.

"He thought he _was_ Vasil Braginksi...but all the data I stole said he wasn't. His DNA is still different - but it was messed up because of what HYDRA was trying to do to it. He...didn't take that very well," Kate said warily. A pained expression instantly flashed across Dmitri's face as he stared at his partner.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"It's fine," Kate said steadily. Natasha looked back and forth between the two agents.

"What happened?" she asked cautiously. Dmitri's eyes grew wary.

"I attacked her - because I didn't believe her," he said quietly. Kate sighed.

"He shot me twice in the shoulder with my own gun - but I managed to knock him out before I bled to death," Kate said tiredly. Clint and Natasha just _stared_ at them.

Talk about _fantastic_ relationship starters - sheesh.

"Why didn't you kill him if he was such a threat?" Clint asked carefully. He felt Natasha stiffen beside him and winced slightly.

_Ouch_.

Kate narrowed her eyes at the archer.

"He was hurt. He was confused. He was _violated_ in the worst ways imaginable - I wasn't going to kill him," Kate said darkly and with finality. Their body language said they were going to go no further - which was fine with the two SHIELD agents.

"So why do you work for CIA?" Clint asked suspiciously. Dmitri gave him a long look.

"Because _she_ does," Dmitri said simply pointing to his partner sitting on his left. Kate instantly scowled at him.

"Make a better god damn reason Dmitri! No one is going to take you seriously if you say that!" she hissed. Her partner's eyes darkened.

"But it's the truth - where was I supposed to go except follow you back to where you came from? I really don't care what these guys think," he said carefully. Kate sighed and leaned her forehead against the table.

"It _matters_," she muttered. Dmitri's eyes fell.

"Yeah. I know it matters," he mumbled. Natasha stared at them for a long moment before she finally spoke.

"Piece of advice Dmitri - don't ever tell anyone what she means to you. She is safer that way," Natasha said warningly. Dmitri's expression darkened.

"You don't think I know that? Besides, we're not allowed to get caught or she'll lose her job," Dmitri said stiffly. He felt Kate stiffen beside him - but she didn't comment - she knew he was right. Natasha laughed darkly and shook her head.

"You're not the only ones," she muttered. Dmitri gave them both a calculative look.

"Why do you two work for SHIELD?" Dmitri asked steadily. Both assassin's eyes hardened.

_Ledgers_.

"We have our reasons," they said at the same time. They both tensed.

They really needed to get their shit fixed before their partnership fell apart.

"We need you to come in with us Dmitri. We need you to talk to Yago," Natasha said instantly getting to the heart of this entire talk. Dmitri's eyes hardened.

"_Why_?" he asked stiffly. Natasha took a sharp breath and pointed to her silent partner.

"Because Yago infected him with a sick virus - and now he has amnesia," Natasha said guardedly. Kate and Dmitri's heads both whipped to the side as they stared at the wary looking archer sitting calmly beside his partner.

"_You have amnesia_?" they both exclaimed at once. Clint raised an eyebrow.

"What? You didn't notice?" he asked warily. Kate scowled at him.

"We really don't know you. You could easily have forgotten us," Kate muttered. Natasha glanced at Dmitri and found him staring daggers at her.

"You want me...to go talk to the bastard that took my _life_ from me?" Dmitri asked tightly. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"What do _you_ want Dmitri?" Natasha asked steadily. Dmitri took a deep breath as he stared at the Russian assassin.

"I want to kill him for approving the use of his fucking DNA and then forgetting that I even exist," Dmitri said darkly. Kate's head whipped to the side as she stared at her partner.

"_Dmitri_," Kate said warningly.

"It's true," Dmitri muttered. Kate viciously shook her head.

"Our jobs are meant to protect our country. We're _not_ killers - unlike some people we know," Kate said nastily.

Clint and Natasha both stiffened. Natasha curled her hands into fists and glared at the self righteous American government agent.

She's never lied about what she was.

"Don't tell me you have never dropped a person with your gun Bishop. You can use it better than half the cheap low level assassins out there," Natasha said warningly. Kate clenched her jaw and looked livid.

"I never said I don't know _how_ to use a gun, but I avoid killing people as often as possible. My partner does too," she said firmly.

Dmitri suddenly glanced at the ceiling and made no comment to confirm or deny her statement. Kate narrowed her eyes at his evasive attitude.

"_Dmitri_," Kate said warningly. Her partner instantly winced at her tone.

"I don't kill people unless they endanger you okay?" he said warily. Kate rapidly shook her head.

"We went over this!" she exclaimed in anger. Dmitri promptly scowled at her.

"And I told you I won't actively shoot anyone unless I have a reason to! If they are threatening you Kate that is a god damn good reason!" he said irritably. Kate glared at him.

"No, it's not! Protecting me doesn't justify ending someone else's life!" she growled. Dmitri stared at her in disbelief for several minutes.

She has _got_ to be kidding.

Kate narrowed her eyes.

She wasn't.

Clint and Natasha both shared a bored look as they silently watched Bishop scold her partner about the ethics of justifiable murder.

Really they were already screwed for the enormous hit number of _unjustifiable_ murders they shared between the two of them - so why bother freaking out?

Kate suddenly paused in her dressing down of her partner as she noticed Natasha looking dazed and blinking rapidly for a second before her mask was perfectly calm and controlled again. However Kate had already managed to catch the rare crack in the Russian assassin's mask.

That was weird.

"Are you okay?" Kate asked carefully. Natasha's eyes narrowed.

"I'm fine - continue your little spat and then we can finish up here," Natasha said firmly. Kate gave her a suspicious look.

"You didn't look fine a second ago," Kate said suspiciously. Natasha clenched her jaw in frustration.

"I'm fine enough to shoot a gun Bishop - keep talking," she said warningly. Natasha tensed when she felt her partner lean closer to her.

"Natasha...your hand it shaking," Clint said quietly staring at her hands in her lap.

"_Shit_," Natasha hissed as she clenched her hands into fists and tried to fight off the dizzying feeling she was starting to feel cloud her mind again. Clint gave her a concerned look.

"Natasha? Are you okay?" he asked slowly. Natasha nodded even as she started to lose her balance.

"I'm just...really tired," Natasha muttered as she grabbed onto the table and swayed in her seat. Clint stared at her in alarm.

"What do you mean tired?" he asked guardedly as he watched her grab her head and wince. Natasha _never_ winces if she can prevent it. Clearly she can't.

"Body...shutting down...sorry...," Natasha said painfully trying to keep a grip on her swirling vision but then everything blanked and she instantly lost her grip on the table before she ungracefully slid off her seat and crashed to the ground as she blacked out.

All three spies stared at the Russian assassin in _horror_.

_What the hell just happened?_

Clint was obviously the first to spring into action.

"Natasha? Natasha wake up!" Clint said in alarm as he dropped to his knees beside his fallen partner and tried to shake her awake - but she was completely knocked out cold.

"_Shit. Shit. Shit_," Clint exclaimed as he ran a unsteady hand through his hair. _What was wrong with her?_ Kate instantly dropped to the floor beside him and put two fingers to her neck.

"She has a pulse. And a fever?" Kate said cautiously. Clint shook his head - he still doesn't know what was wrong.

And then his SHIELD phone started ringing.

He ignored it.

"Natasha! Come on, why did you pass out?" he muttered trying to keep the anxiety he was feeling at bay. Dmitri glanced behind the anxious SHIELD agent and his eyes narrowed.

"Maybe you should pick that up...?" Dmitri said carefully. Clint shot him a sharp look.

"My partner just passed out!" he growled. Kate looked down at the phone in his back pocket as well.

"It's flashing red though," she added carefully. Clint froze, before he instantly yanked his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open - he already knew who it was.

"_Coulson_. Coulson I don't have _time_ for this right now!" Clint hissed into his phone. He heard a momentary delay on the other end before he got his reply.

"Why? What happened?" Coulson asked tensely. Clint clenched his jaw.

"Romanoff just passed out," he said tightly. He heard Coulson take a calming breath.

"_Oh_. Don't worry about that-," Coulson started to say but Clint instantly cut him off in anger.

"What the hell do you mean don't worry? I am god damn worrying my _ass_ off!" Clint shouted into his phone. Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose and took another deep breath.

"Clint. She hasn't slept in a week. That was going to happen sooner or later," Coulson said carefully. Clint paused.

"_What_?" Clint asked as he slid to the floor and just sat there staring at his unconscious partner.

_Why haven't you slept Natasha?_

"She woke up a week before you - hasn't sleep at all. You woke up with amnesia today - her body is saying it was time to shut down," Coulson said very carefully. Clint took a deep unsteady breath as he rubbed his hand over his face in exhaustion.

"What do I do with her?" he asked in defeat.

"Bring her back to SHIELD for now," Coulson said cautiously. Clint stiffened.

"Natasha won't like waking up in Medical Coulson. I've learned enough about her to guess that," Clint said warily. Coulson's eyes hardened.

"Listen to me Clint. For her own safety bring her back to SHIELD. She has a 48 hour time limit on her head. She can sleep through that time and when it passes she'll be cleared from the termination list," Coulson said seriously.

Clint froze.

"Fury released a _kill_ order for her?" Clint asked darkly. Coulson narrowed his eyes.

"She tortured a target beyond reason and disobeyed direct orders Barton. She then took a compromised agent and went off to fulfill an illegal pact with a criminal SHIELD has on death row. Fury gave you a loop hole. Be _grateful_," Coulson said angrily. Clint instantly shut his mouth and took several calming breaths.

"Okay. Okay I'll bring her back with me...but why did you really call Coulson?" Clint asked carefully. Coulson suddenly went silent as he tried to gather his chaotic thoughts.

"We figured out what is wrong with your brain scan. The virus is blocking a certain portion of your brain related to memory function. The doctors think they found a drug that will flush the virus in your brain out forever. If we manage to get rid of all traces of the virus - you should get your memories back Clint," Coulson said carefully.

Clint nearly dropped the phone right then and there in utter shock - he shook it off fast.

"What is the _but_ Coulson?" Clint pressed firmly but with a slight hopeful look in his eyes. He listened to his handler take a sharp breath.

"...but there is a long and painful fever, a lot of puking and killer headache to go along with it," Coulson said guardedly. Clint shook his head - that was nothing.

"Doesn't matter. I can take it," he said firmly. Anything to get his memories back.

_Anything to remember her. _

Clint suddenly held his breath as he felt the mood shift on Coulson's end from professional handler to extremely pissed friend.

_Oh no. _

"Also...you two are in so much trouble I don't even want to see your _faces_ right now," Coulson said darkly before he promptly hung up.

Clint paled.

When Coulson sounded that angry you know you are in deep shit.

"I can give you a ride?" Dmitri offered quietly from behind him. Clint crouched beside his unconscious partner and carefully brushed stray strands of her red hair out of her face.

"Yeah. That would be nice," he said softly stroking her cheek.

"Are they going to try and kill you?" Kate asked quietly as she crouched beside him.

"I don't know," Clint said quietly as he hook his arms underneath his partner's knees and her back before he lifted her off the ground in one swift motion. He gripped her tightly and his eyes steeled with determination.

"But I won't let them touch her," he vowed with flashing eyes.

_She worked too hard to get him back for him to let her go now. _

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: I wonder who will wake up first? Real Clint or Natasha? **

**If Natasha wakes up first I think she might just **_**die**_** going the waiting phase again. **

**Don't worry. Dmitri will still pay Yago a visit no matter what...eventually. **

**Either way - next chapter is **_**Clintasha**_** - **_**real**_** clintasha. **

**How did you like the twist with Dmitri being a HYDRA experiment? **

**P.S. Now...if they had just sat tight at SHIELD for another 6 hours - they would not have had to go on this long merry chase they just did. Hilarious isn't it? Kind of sad actually. **

**Ah the life of a pair of SHIELD agents. **


	110. Chapter 110

**I Dare You**

**A/N: OMG I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT! Ahhh! I HAD SO MUCH UNIVESRITY PAPERWORK TO DO! But I finally got time to sit down and finish this!**

**Take a deep breath - and don't pass out in happiness or something...that would be werid...lol.**

**Enjoy! **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 110**

The sun was setting on another busy New York day, while 4 spies who were all thrown together by the most _unusual_ circumstances were sitting in a black SUV heading towards a base that technically should not exist - but then again there are a lot of things in the world that should not exist and yet here they all were. An American CIA agent who has the strictest morals out of every single spy in the car, a HYDRA experimentation survivor, an American sniper who specializes in archery assisted assassinations and an defected ex-Russian assassin who is currently unconscious at the moment.

What a crowd right?

The CIA agents were sitting in the front and politely ignoring the way the archer sitting in the back seat was gently running his hand through the fiery red hair of the unconscious Russian lying in his lap while looking at his partner with an expression stuck half way between tenderness and longing.

Unlike Barton they had tact.

"I didn't know their base was so close to where we live," Kate said quietly as she realized they were almost arriving at the address Barton gave them. Dmitri snorted.

"I didn't know SHIELD operated out of New York _at all_," Dmitri grumbled back as he tried not to wince from the pain in his cheek - she noticed anyway.

Kate slowly reached out and gently grazed her thumb against a piece of medical gauze still taped to his cheek which was covering a large nasty knife wound he got no less than 8 hours ago. They were supposed to be recovering - but then these two SHIELD agents happened.

"How do you feel?" she asked quietly. Dmitri kept driving steadily, but she felt him lean into her hand nonetheless- she could tell he was exhausted.

"I've been better...but I've been worse too," he muttered. Kate sighed at his evasive attitude and decided to change tactics.

"I can redress your injures when we get back?" she offered lightly running her hand over his tense shoulders and tracing the outer curve of his ear. She smiled when he melted instantly.

"Yeah - that would be really nice," he breathed in a slight daze. The second they got rid of these two SHIELD agents she was going to be _his_. Kate noticed the sudden shift in his mood by the increase in his quicker breathing rate and laughed softly as she pulled away. Honestly, men always had their mind in the gutters.

"Later," Kate said simply as she leaned back against her seat and closed her eyes. She could feel his silent heated gaze but chose to ignore it for now. Eventually Dmitri had to look away to make sure he didn't crash the car.

He was a seriously _whipped_ sad excuse for a man, but he didn't really care - she gave him everything he ever wanted. She was everything he didn't think he could ever have. She made him happy.

Maybe Yago would have been different if he had someone like her. Maybe all the villains and criminals of the world would be different if they had someone that loved them.

Clint stared at the familiar streets quickly passing them by as he continued to half-listen to the quiet conversation happening in front of him. Their partnership seemed calmer, more relaxed and much less explosive. It seemed mature and a lot less chaotic unlike other partnerships out there.

Clint doesn't think he can say the same for his own partnership. The Black Widow was one _hell_ of a good partner yes - but she _definitely_ wasn't a calming experience. He doesn't know if he went into this crazy rollercoaster ride with her, knowing what was coming or not. He glanced up when he recognized the street they just turned onto.

"_That's_ the SHIELD base?" Dmitri asked in disbelief. It looked like any ordinary office building in Manhattan. Clint snorted quietly.

"The legal half of it yes," Clint said warily. Dmitri squinted his eyes as he saw a stone faced man in a sharp black suit standing on the steps leading up to the building. The man did _not_ look happy.

"Who is that?" Dmitri asked slowly. Clint glanced over his shoulder and he lost all hope of getting out of this mess alive.

"My executioner," Clint muttered in defeat as the car came to a slow stop. Kate snorted.

"Get out Barton - if they wanted you dead you'd already be dead," she said coldly without any sympathy whatsoever. Clint scowled at her.

"Yeah, yeah Bishop I'm leaving. No need to get your panties in a twist," Clint muttered childishly. Kate went bright red while her partner shot Barton a dark look.

"_Barton_...," Dmitri said warningly. Clint ignored them both when something caught his eye on the outside. Dmitri glanced down at the unconscious spit fire woman in his arms.

"You want some help with her?" Dmitri asked glancing at the completely still sniper. He glanced outside too but couldn't see what he was seeing. Clint's eyes suddenly darkened.

"No. I'm fine. Though I think you should walk out very slowly and have a chat with my handler before you leave...," he said carefully. Dmitri narrowed his eyes.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously. Clint didn't look away from his window for even a second.

"Because we currently have 47 sniper rifles pointed at us from all different directions," he said damningly. Dmitri and Kate both stared at him in disbelief.

_Silence_.

"What the hell?" Dmitri hissed as he banged his fist against the steering wheel. Clint continued to scan the rooftops and suddenly his shoulders relaxed somewhat when he realized they weren't going to shoot on sight - they were just being watched. Better play this fast but carefully.

"_Barton_...," Dmitri said warningly. Clint finally sighed and looked away from the window to give Dmitri an uneasy look.

"Sorry - you look like the enemy and my partner broke a lot of rules today so they aren't feeling very friendly right now," Clint said with an apologetic wince. Dmitri just gaped at him while Kate shot him a dirty look.

"You're people are _insane_ Barton," Kate hissed. Clint laughed humorlessly and shook his head.

"Oh you don't know the half of it Bishop," Clint said as he rearranged his limp partner in his arms and moved to unlock his door and kick it open before he carried her out of the car. Dmitri took one look at the tired and struggling archer and huffed. The unbelievable things he feels obligated to do for random amnesia people he doesn't even _like_.

"You know what? Fuck the guns," Dmitri growled before he promptly shoved his door open and got out and moved around the car to yank open Barton's door and give him a pointed look. Clint glanced up and raised an eyebrow as he tightened his hold on his unconscious partner and lifted her out of the car. No less than 10 seconds later Dmitri felt his own partner's tense presence behind him and could feel the anxiety radiating off of her in intense waves.

She was worried for him again.

"You have 20 red dots on your forehead Dmitri," Kate said very carefully. Dmitri's eyes shot up to locate the armed men on the building roof corners and he froze.

"Barton...do they know I exist?" Dmitri asked carefully. Clint instantly winced. He really didn't know what he and Romanoff have told SHIELD about these two CIA agents.

Judging from the tense reaction - it wasn't much.

"...um...I'm going to go with _no_," Clint said warily. Dmitri and Kate didn't respond because they were suddenly staring at something behind him with matching guarded expressions.

"_Barton_," a deep and ominous voice said from behind the suddenly frozen archer. Clint fought back his body's desire to pale as he slowly turned around and came face to face with a looming dark faced Director who looked like he had seen better days as the head of this entire intelligence organization.

"_Sir_," Barton said as steadily as he could - if his voice waivered _just_ a bit at the end you should give him a break because it was really hard to hold an intense staring match with your boss while holding the most dangerous woman in the world in your arms bridal style.

Very difficult indeed.

"Do you have shit for brains?" Fury asked very carefully. Clint took a calming breath and continued to hold his ground as best he could - he would not lose his cool just because he was about to get the heat from his boss.

"No, I just have amnesia," Clint said warily. He hoped Fury would respect his ability to continue to act like his normal jackass self and not cower before him no matter how much shit Clint knew they were in. When Fury narrowed his eyes he all but confirmed that whatever was coming for the two assassins, it wasn't going to be pretty.

"You two are in _unbelievable_ amounts of shit," Fury said heatedly. Clint tensed.

"I know Sir," he said guardedly. Fury narrowed his eyes.

"If I told the Council what she did in security prison room 106 - they would send their _own_ personal hired guns and kill her," Fury said warningly. Clint stiffened as his eyes flashed.

"But you didn't do that _Sir_," Clint said through gritted teeth. Fury rigidly shook his head. He wanted to do all _kinds_ of nasty things to these reckless agents of his - but right now he needed them out of his _sight_.

"Get in my base - _now_," Fury growled with barely restrained anger. Clint smartly stepped back from the royally pissed master spy and headed towards the doors that his silent handler was standing beside.

There wasn't a heck of a lot he could do except obey when he had Natasha to protect. He tightened his grip on her waist as he glanced over his shoulder to watch Fury turn around and pin Dmitri and Kate with a killer stare.

"And who the fuck are _you_?" he watched Fury ask the two CIA agents standing stiffly side by side. His Director looked like he was going to eat them alive. Clint slowed down and narrowed his eyes.

"They'll be fine Barton," Coulson's voice said quietly from behind him. Clint didn't look convinced. Fury looked like he was thoroughly grilling the two injured agents that were not his into the ground.

"You sure?" Clint asked carefully. Coulson sighed and firmly gripped his agent's shoulder.

"Trust me - you two are currently in more danger of being shot by us then they are," Coulson said steadily as he opened the door and gestured for him to get his ass inside. Clint sighed in defeat as he started his walk of shame carrying his partner back towards a very obvious destination.

Nobody escapes from SHIELD Medical without definitely returning to Medical - without a shred of dignity left.

"Why do I have this feeling that I'm not leaving this building for a while?" Clint muttered as he entered the foreboding base. He felt the silent reassuring presence of his handler beside him as the down slammed shut behind them.

_Cause you ain't going nowhere anything soon agent Barton. _

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

An hour later Clint and Natasha were right back where they started - stuck in Medical and this time with no escape whatsoever because they were locked together in a tightly monitored recovery room meant for some of the more..._uncooperative_ injured agents.

Clint knew from that moment on they were both black listed on their SHIELD medical files as agents who had a high tendencies to disregard personal health and do not follow doctor recommendations.

As Natasha would say (though he doesn't know it) - they were branded in red on the SHIELD internal _shit_ list and required intensive babysitting while in recovery.

It's been an hour since he's been in here and no one has come in or said a word to him the whole time. He was lying on a flat uncomfortable bed with one hand behind his head and a second resting on the bed. He was staring at the ceiling as he kept half his mind busy with counting the holes on the tiles while the other half of his mind was calmly and strategically identifying exactly what SHIELD protocol would mandate the proper response to what his partner did.

Boy did she land them in a whole lot of _shit_.

Clint wasn't stupid - he knew Coulson and everyone else in the observation room were watching them to see if they would freak out while being locked up or not.

They probably thought he would try and escape again. He grinned sharply like a shark just to fuck with them. He could just imagine the little ground based agents running around on the other side of the metal wall trying to figure out why the fuck their best sniper was grinning like a maniac.

Clint closed his eyes and his creepy grin faded into a calm smile as he replayed the intense kiss between him and the Widow before she punched him and nearly broke his face. He had a beautiful painful bruise in his left cheek as a souvenir to prove that he epically pissed the Widow off and survived.

It was so freaking worth it.

He knew he was attracted to her even with his amnesia just based on how his body reacted when she was around - but he kind of genuinely liked her now too. She was a raging spit fire and definitely on the criminally insane side but he thought that's what made her interesting. He doesn't like any of the other female SHIELD agents - not in a non-professional way. He never did. They were all too strict and straight-laced type of agents who were all career women first and all the men in their lives always came second.

But the Black Widow was different. He could tell she hated men in general just based on how she talked to Yago, Dmitri and even Coulson. She didn't give any man a single quarter. But she talked to _him_ differently. Not softer (he wasn't stupid enough to think she was soft) - just different. She looked at him like he was her best and most faithful gun and at first it kind of freaked him out that a beautiful assassin who has seduced and slaughtered hundreds of men just like him could make him feel anything except wariness and distant respect. But she was also exciting, she was terrifying, she was badass, she was a woman who just didn't make any damn _sense_.

He wanted to know who the hell she was so badly he followed her all over the damn city and broke nearly 50 SHIELD regulations just to satisfy his curiosity. He _had_ to know what she meant to him. She avoided talking about it like a stubborn mule but he could tell exactly when she kept forgetting he had amnesia and started talking to him like they'd known each other for years.

But that wasn't possible. They had only been partners for 11 months.

So why the hell did it feel like she has always been there?

He didn't know that answer to that question so he has just been going along with everything she did in the last 5 hours. He was trying to figure her out. He was trying to figure out how much she actually knew him - which was a scary shit load of a lot. He wanted to know why she chose his side when he can tell she doesn't believe in sides. He _knows_ SHIELD is the right side (as right as you can be in an imperfect world like theirs), but he doesn't think she sees it like he does. SHIELD wasn't perfect - that is probably why she doesn't give her true allegiances to any one specific organization. She wasn't a blind follower. She was an intelligent and sharp assassin who knew her stuff and didn't take shit from anyone - he liked that in a person. He didn't really know her yet - but he really liked her.

He would definitely have left by now if she wasn't lying unconscious beside him. He was only tolerating this cage because of her.

You don't think he could break out if he wanted to?

"I'm not going to kill anyone just because my partner happens to be knocked out and a little bit too exhausted for her own good Coulson," Clint said aloud as he spun a sharp arrow tip in his hand.

He could practically _smell_ the fear as all the suits froze as they stared at the sharp weapon piece sitting innocently in the palm of his hand. They were all thinking the same exact thing.

_How the fuck did he get that in there after they searched him from head to toe?_

He was a god damn trained assassin that's why.

Cubical loving idiots.

All he got was stony silence. Clint sighed heavily. They were ignoring him.

That was kind of rude. He let them politely lock him up and everything. He pretended to act like he was trapped too. Clint sighed again.

No one had any manners nowadays.

"Seriously. If you're going to try and kill us because we are volatile you should do it before she wakes up - because if you watched the security footage you know what she's like when she is angry. The Russians really know how to train their killers. She won't spare you if you guys piss her off as badly as Vasil Yago did. I can see why you wanted her dead the first time around - but she's more useful alive then dead you know," Clint said steadily.

Silence_ - again._ Clint's eyes flashed open and his expression darkened.

"If you want to play the waiting game - I'll always win," Clint whispered menacingly before his expression turned deceptively calm and collected. The skill set of a highly trained sniper is extraordinary. If they tried to kill them he would take out at _least_ 50 agents before he went down fighting.

The next thing he knew the door was unlocking itself from the other side and swung open to reveal the stiff figure of Phil Coulson.

So he had finally decided to pay him a visit in his prison cell.

How nice of him.

"We're not going to kill you Agent Barton," Coulson said quietly as he walked into the room and the door slammed shut behind him. Clint instantly scanned his handler's suit and found no sight of a gun on him.

He was unarmed.

But that never mattered anyway.

What mattered was what the only man Clint has ever trusted was currently disappointed in him. Clint could feel it in his bones. He held his breath as his body filled with soul crushing shame. If Coulson ever pointed a gun to his head - he might just let him pull the trigger.

"That's what you're saying but your body language is saying you're pissed as hell Coulson," Clint said in his forever calm tone as he closed his eyes and turned his head away from his handler. He couldn't look at him with that disappointment swirling in his eyes. Coulson narrowed his sharp gaze.

"That's because I can be a professional no matter how I feel Barton," Coulson said evenly from right beside the tense archer. Clint snorted.

"Well isn't that wonderful for you Coulson? You can put our friendship aside just like that and watch them kill us if they have too," Clint said with a bitter laugh and a shake of his head. Coulson instantly felt the tension drain out of his own body in defeat. He didn't want to fight his agent anymore. He didn't want to fight his friend anymore. Clint's face tightened when he felt a hand come and rest on his forehead. Coulson sadly shook his head as the clearly tired sniper fought his body's urge to tremble under his handler's hand.

He was scared.

"Stop bracing yourself. We're not going to hurt you or agent Romanoff. You're both in serious trouble - but it's going to be okay Clint," Coulson said quietly. Clint took several tense breathes as he kept his eyes slammed tightly shut. _He was lying. He was lying. His best friend was going to kill him. Why would they send him? Was SHIELD really that cruel? _

"Why should I believe you Coulson?" Clint asked guardedly. He tensed and balled his hands into fists when Coulson brushed his dampen hair out of his face. _Why was he torturing him like this? _

"Because I don't want you die Clint. We just got you back - but not all of you came back," Coulson said quietly in a pained voice. Clint instantly went rigid under his hand and a dark aura filled the secured room.

"I want to remember Coulson. I hate this feeling of limbo. I want to know who she _is_," Clint said tightly. Coulson instantly went still.

"You know who she is Barton," he said carefully. He could tell just by the way Clint was keeping his anger in check while lying beside his partner that he knew the technicalities behind what she meant to him. She never said a single word of confirmation - but he knows. Everything she did screamed that she was someone important to him - and vice versa. She was someone who would _die_ for him - _and vice versa_. Clint suddenly sat up and stared at his handler dead in eye.

"It's not enough. I'm not enough. I need to remember," Clint said forecfully.

_I'm not enough for her._ Hanged in the air between field agent and handler. Coulson took a deep breath.

They both knew he wasn't the Clint she wanted. He needed to be the Clint his partner was fighting for. Clint's eyes steeled in determination.

"Fix me. Fix me Coulson. If you can't fix me - _you should kill me_," Clint said darkly. Coulson inhaled a sharp breath as he stared back at his dead serious agent.

He meant it.

"That's a bit extreme Barton," Coulson said warningly. Clint slowly shook his head.

"No it's really not," Clint said carefully. He had a deadly taste of what exactly he was missing just from the desperate way she held him, how she touched him, how she kissed him_ back_ and that's when he knew he was done for life. The Black Widow ruined him for life. Now he wanted that. He wanted that so badly he would kill for it. She was it for him - he could feel it from the second he watched her nearly kill a criminal that took him from her with her bare hands in that prison. She was the one thing he needed more than _air_. Clint gave his handler a look that said everything he wasn't allowed to say in a room being monitored by half a dozen SHIELD agents behind the metal walls of the windowless room.

_I want her. I want to keep her. Fix me so that she will stay. _

If this was what love felt like - it was madness. Utter twisted chaotic _madness_.

What Clint Barton felt towards Natasha Romanoff was never just one clear thing. And it was definitely not the same things she felt for _him_.

They were the _definition_ of complicated.

Clint tensed when he suddenly felt a cool metal syringe get pressed into the palm of his hand.

"It's going to hurt like shit," Coulson said evenly. Clint glanced down and stared at the bright yellow liquid swirling in the glass casing.

"Is it poison?" he asked carefully. Coulson shook his head.

"No - but it will feel like it," he said warningly. Clint flipped the syringe around and held the needle tip to his arm.

"It's worth it," Clint said evenly. Coulson knew what he really meant.

_She's_ worth it.

"I know," Coulson said quietly as he watched Clint slam his eyes shut and stabbed himself with the massive needle. He nearly fell over as he lost his breath.

Coulson was right - _it hurt like shit._

"I trust you Coulson," Clint said trying to fight back a wince as he instantly broke into a fever. Coulson swiftly grabbed his shoulders and lowered him back down onto the bed before he fell down.

"I know Clint," Coulson said quietly as he watched his agent spam before he passed out from the intense pain.

_I know how much she means to you - it's the only reason I let you stay partners. _

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The first thing Natasha noticed when she finally came around was that she felt like utter _shit_. The only reason she passed out was because her stupid body couldn't take the damn _exhaustion_. It was only 8 days damn it! Why did it have to fail her when she was so close?

And then Natasha instantly froze when everything she was doing before she passed out flooded her mind.

Clint. Virus. Amnesia. Yago. HYDRA. Dmitri. Memories. Memories. _Memories_.

Natasha felt her heart rate spike when she realized she wasn't lying somewhere familiar - but she had a really good idea where she was.

Her eyes suddenly flashed open and she quickly sat up in alarm and was breathing unevenly as she rapidly scanned the white room.

_Damn. Damn. Damn_. She was in SHIELD medical. Either SHIELD caught up with them or Barton dragged their asses back here.

And then her head started spinning and she forgot everything she was thinking for a second.

"What the hell happened?" she growled to herself as she grabbed her forehead and winced in pain. Her head felt like it was bashed with an iron rod and judging by the swelling bump she could feel at the edge of her forehead she must of hit the ground _hard_ when she fell. Natasha grimaced as the pain spasmed through her body and she grabbed onto the bed to steady herself.

"You collapsed from exhaustion. It's what you get for not sleeping for 8 days you know," a deeply familiar voice said quietly. Natasha tensed and her eyes instantly shot to her left to find a tired and beaten up looking Barton sitting in a chair beside her watching her with a calm expression on his face.

It pissed her off - she doesn't really know why. Maybe it was because it reminded her too much of _him_. The bruise she gave him from her sucker punch was fading which meant she much have been out for _days_.

She wasn't in the mood for his severely annoying concern right now.

"Just _shut up_ Barton. I have a headache and I really don't want to hear one of your irritating lectures right now," she grumbled as she sharply turned away from him and stared _daggers_ into the wall beside her. Clint paused as he absorbed her words.

"I don't lecture you - do I?" he asked tilting his head to the side. Natasha scoffed - she wasn't in the mood for his questions right now. She just wanted to be left alone so that she can sulk in _peace_. She lost her chance of fixing him and she didn't want to talk to this Barton right now.

"Trust me you do - you just don't remember," she muttered as she threw her sheets off of her and glared down at the medical gown she was forced to wear. She _hated_ these things! Clint watched the utter _disgust_ take over her beautiful face and smiled as he leaned his elbows against his knees and propped his face in his hand as he stared up at her.

"I see. Well maybe if you actually listened to my lectures and took better care of yourself you would not have been passed out for 2 days," he said warily while giving her a knowing look. Natasha huffed - there he goes again with the lecturing! Can she never catch a damn break?

"Piss off. I don't need your concern - if I went to sleep and your vitals died on me do you know how I would feel?" she hissed at him. Clint calmly took in her anger and shrugged.

"Like the life got sucked right out of you?" he said softly. Natasha tensed - how did he know that?

"Something like that," she muttered as she irritably glanced away from him. Clint's eyes softened as he watched her angrily rub her hands over her face as she tried to get a hold on herself and her shattered control.

"How do you really feel?" he asked quietly. Natasha tensed and shot him a burning look with her flashing green eyes that made him lose his breath for a second.

"Like I want to bang my head against a wall and knock myself out all over again," she said nastily. Clint didn't even bat an eyelash - that should have been one of her many clues she was just too unfocused and tired to pick up.

"But at least you're awake now right?" he offered as he tried to lift her from her awfully _foul_ mood.

Her deadly scowled just got _deeper_.

"Yes - and I'm hating every second of it," Natasha said maliciously. Clint didn't even wince. In fact he just continued to stare at her with that odd look in his eyes.

"I'm glad you woke up Tasha," he said quietly completely changing the tone of their conversation. Natasha felt her heart freeze and she tightly gripped her sleeves as she tried to figure out how to get more distance between the two of them without leaving her bed and falling onto the floor.

"_Please,_ don't call me Tasha," she said shakily. Clint furrowed his brown in confusion.

"Why not?" he asked trying to keep the hurt out of his voice. Natasha closed her eyes and shook her head.

"It's just...I...I just need time okay?" she finally said tiredly in utter defeat. Clint's eyes fell in disappointment. _Why the hell was he disappointed?_

"Are you going to run away now?" he asked softly. Natasha sighed heavily.

"I don't really have anything to lose right now," she muttered as she wrapped her arms around herself. Clint stared at the tension in her frame that screamed that if she could walk she'd be running out of this base _right this second_. Clint placed his hands on his knees and leaned forward to get a better look at her conflicted expression.

"No? That's kind of sad. We built such an amazing partnership together and you're just going to up and leave when things get rough Natasha?" Clint asked dejectedly. Natasha fiercely shook her head as her eyes steeled. _How would he know what their partnership was like?_

"There is _tough to deal with_ and there is just plain _agony_ Barton," Natasha said darkly. Clint stared at her hardened expression for a long moment as the echoing silence hanged in the space between them. She didn't say anything after that.

She had nothing left to say to him - but he had _so much_ left to say to her. He had hours worth of things to say to her.

"You wore a really pretty red dress in Italy," he finally said softly.

Natasha instantly stopped breathing.

"What?" she asked in genuine alarm. Clint gave her a weak smile that spoke of so much pain and yet so much relief at the same time.

"When you blew up Hoffa and his gang I thought it was the most badass thing I ever heard you do," he continued calmly. Natasha just _stared_ at him.

She couldn't breathe at all. He kept going just because he had so much he wanted to say - so much that he remembered.

He _remembered_.

"I nicknamed you Tasha after we jumped off a cliff on a mission in Cuba. You were so angry about that jump," he said with a light chuckle. Natasha instantly felt her head shut down.

"I hate falling," she whispered as she swayed in place - headache completely forgotten. Clint gave her a small smile at her speechlessness. Where was all her dark and depressing anger now?

"I know that. I also know you like strawberries. I think they are just okay on their own but what _I_ like the most is stealing strawberries from your mouth. I like how they taste like you," he said giving her a warm look as he glanced down at her lips. Natasha had no idea what to do so she just said the first half thought that popped into her fried brain.

"Spit...spit is disgusting," she whispered as her hands started shaking. Clint shrugged.

"I don't mind. I like how you taste. I like everything about you. I just like _you_. I like your sadistic side. I even like Natalia. Though I think Natalia is slightly insane - but after what you did to Yago a few days ago you're kind of crazy too Tasha. Sorry," he said with an apologetic smile. Natasha curled her hands into fists as she stared at her partner.

_Her_ partner.

He was _Clint_.

He was finally _here_.

She had no idea what to say - until she did.

"This is how you decide to tell me? By triggering a damn heart attack?" Natasha said starting to feel the light-headedness get to her as she tried to get a firm grasp on what was happening. He remembered. She still felt like she was dreaming. Clint's expression suddenly went from soft to serious in an instant. It gave her whiplash.

"I thought you died in Romania," he said quietly. That instantly knocked her out of her _intense_ shock and her entire expression darkened.

"I did die Barton - Coulson is just a little bastard that doesn't like his debt payers dying on him," she muttered grumpily. Clint's eyes softened.

"So I owe him even _more_ now," Clint said with a quiet sigh. Natasha shot him a suspicious look.

"Why?" she asked guardedly. Clint just smiled at her.

"Because he saved you too," he said simply. If she died he would have let himself die with her. Natasha felt her breath catch in her throat - she doesn't know if she could do the same for him. Clint just continued watching her calmly as all these thoughts flashed though her mind.

He never expected the same things from her.

She suddenly stiffened as a random thought occurred to her.

"Where _are_ we?" she asked as she felt the dread start rising in her chest. Clint tried to project as much calming vibes as he could - it wasn't working.

"Don't freak out - but we are are kind of locked up in a specialized secure medical room," he said slowly. Natasha instantly tensed. He sighed - this was what he was trying to avoid.

"If we're in here and they are monitoring us, didn't they just hear all the shit you just _said_?" she shouted in alarm. Clint shook his head.

"Nope," Clint said calmly as he held up a handful of wires with a smug look in his eyes. Natasha eyed the rainbow vomit of control wires sitting innocently in his hand.

"Coulson is going to kill you," Natasha said flatly before she promptly inched away from him. She didn't want to die again - especially not from the wrath of their handler.

She already had enough shit to deal with on her own plate that she got herself into trying to get him back to normal.

"_BARTON_!" an angry voice shouted through the door Clint had barricaded with a metal rod.

"Nah," Clint said flashing her a warm smile that nearly took her breath away.

_He was really him. _

"When can we get of here?" Natasha asked as she brutally gripped her sheets in her fists so tightly her knuckles were turning ghostly white. Clint glanced down and stared at her hands before glancing back up at the caution flickering in her eyes. He could tell she wanted to touch him _badly_ - but it wasn't a good idea because he didn't manage to kill the video reel on this room.

The tension simmering between them instantly skyrocketed despite both their efforts to stay away from any physical contact. He doesn't think he could stop himself from compromising their (fake) platonic partnership status at SHIELD if she touched him.

"As soon as you are cleared by Medical. You only passed out from severe exhaustion after all," he said as he fell back on his sniper training to keep his head clear and his breathing steady -_ he wanted to touch her too._ Of course he wanted to touch her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let go. He wanted to kiss her and reaffirm that this was all real and that he wasn't dreaming right now.

They haven't been real Clint and Natasha for a _long_ time.

That was probably why she suddenly kind of lost it.

"Oh my _god_ - it's like waking up from a fucking nightmare," Natasha whispered with a shaky laugh as she dropped her face into her hands and just _breathed_. It was all too much to see him after so long. _He was here. He was sitting right beside her. He remembered her_. Clint grinned at her wryly.

"Don't go hysterical on me Tasha," Clint said teasingly. He watched a pretty scowl flash across her face before she promptly picked up her pillow and whipped it at him. He let it hit him hard in the face and he _inhaled_ her strong lavender smell. He _missed_ how she smelled up close. He _missed_ being able to hold her and finding himself happily suffocating in her scent. He missed the feeling of her body pressed up against his. When he slowly reached up and pulled the pillow away he found her staring at him in a way she has never looked at him before.

She was looking at him like she didn't want to be anywhere else. He felt the words tumble out of his mouth despite the dangerous place they were.

"_I missed you so much Natasha_," he whispered achingly and with the sincerity bleeding through his words. Natasha instantly stopped breathing. _I missed you. I missed you. I missed you._ She closed her eyes and let his honest words wash over her. She never thought she would _ever_ hear anyone say that to her.

"Not not Barton," she said trying to control her own breathing. He was going to make her explode and land them in even _more_ trouble at this point.

"Sorry," he whispered -but he really wasn't sorry at all. Natasha suddenly took a shaky breath and tried to glare at him - but it wasn't working. She failed miserably. She couldn't glare at him right now even if she tried her damn _hardest_. The best she could do was look slightly annoyed.

"Don't you dare be sorry. Besides, remember when you asked me to apologize for ditching you and cuffing you to that rod in that dance club washroom?" Natasha asked with an uncomfortable look. _She hoped he remembered. She hoped he remembered. She hoped he remembered._ Clint's expression instantly filled with recognition and she nearly sighed in sheer utter _relief_.

"_Yeah_?" he breathed out. She could tell he was only half listening to her by the way he was glancing at every part of her face; from her eyes, to her cheeks, to her nose, to her lips- it was like he was memorizing what she looked like. Natasha felt her heart spasm - he was too much.

"Does it count if I say sorry _now_?" she asked warily. Clint laughed as he ran a hand through his messy hair. She was trying to apologize for that shit after everything that happened to them? Was she insane?

"I really _don't_ care anymore Tasha," he whispered. Natasha huffed and her temper instantly flared.

"_Fine_. See if I apologize ever again," she said stubbornly crossing her arms and tearing her eyes away from his. Clint's smile just widened as the warmth in his eyes just deepened.

"I don't care if you never apologize," he said softly. Natasha inhaled a sharp breath. He was going to kill her with his words again.

"Stop being so damn cheesy you bastard!" Natasha said trying to beat down the flush that was threatening to take over her face. Clint just inched closer to her - as close as he could get without touching her. He was _burning_ to touch her but he didn't do it - not before they got out of here and away from all the eyes that were watching them.

"I can't Tasha," he breathed out with a loopy grin on his face. Natasha gave him a stern look.

"Try harder," she demanded. Clint just shook his head.

"I don't _want_ to," he said sincerely. Natasha looked like she was ready to explode as he continued to give her the most painfully honest look that hid nothing he was feeling right now. She has never seen him look that damn _blissful_ in her entire life. It was freaking her out.

"Ugh! Stop looking at me like that before I slap the look off your face!" she exclaimed as she gestured to _all_ of him. Clint just smiled harder as she got angrier and angrier. He missed her anger.

"Your hair comes alive when you're angry," he said with light amusement. Natasha stared at him in disbelief.

"_Ah_!" she shouted in frustration before she promptly fell back onto the bed and covered her face with her pillow.

"Go away!" she ordered though her voice was muffled by the pillow. Clint felt like laughing at her but he was fairly certain she might try to strangle him if he did that. So he just stifled his laughter with his fist and grinned at her.

"But I just got here Tasha," he teased. Natasha promptly gave him the finger from under the pillow.

"I don't want to talk to you right now! _Leave_!" she demanded as she pointed in the general direction of the door. Clint raised an eyebrow at her pathetic attempt to get rid of him.

She really can't express her feelings very well. He knew she didn't want him to leave. He could tell she was genuinely happy just by the fact that she was 10 times more relaxed then she was when she first woke up. His partner was all kinds of weird.

He liked weird. He came to terms with it a long time ago.

After a few minutes of calm silence Natasha slowly dropped the pillow from her face and stared up at him with a conflicted expression on her face. She was stuck somewhere between throwing herself at him and throwing him out of the room. Clint saw the ridiculous debate rage in her green eyes and he just smiled warmly.

"Don't ever change Tasha," he whispered earnestly. Natasha instantly glared at him and shoved the pillow into _his_ face. He laughed as she tried to suffocate him.

_He missed her._

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Well...I didn't think Natasha does reunions like normal people. She is actually a very awkward person when it comes to real feelings so she wasn't going to be all welcoming to him...at least not until they are alone together without SHIELD breathing down their necks. She'll be more open when they are actually alone. **

**Haha more serious Clintasha next chapter. There is a lot of things they have to do now that he's back.**

**Like...get the biggest shouting of their lives. Poor assassins who just went through hell. Coulson is going to eat them**

**Are you relieved that he's back? **


	111. Chapter 111

**I dare you **

**A/N: I TOLD YOU GUYS NOT TO CRY! T.T Nobody listens to me.**

**Before fluff...they must live through punishment and reprimand like the adult agents they are. THEN FLUFF!**

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

20 minutes after Natasha woke up the two newly reunited partners were sitting side by side on a bench in a lab waiting for some analysis to be complete. It wouldn't have been so bad if part of the analysis wasn't _them_ being stared down by their stone faced handler sitting across a table.

"Tell me what you did wrong," Coulson asked steadily. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Is this a Psyche test?" she asked carefully. Coulson slowly shook his head. He knew she would lie if this was an official test.

That's why they were all sitting in a random research lab without any cameras to watch this.

"No. This is my own personal test to decide whether or not I should let you two off this base or not," Coulson said steadily. He gave her a pointed look. She went rigid under his watchful eyes.

"I disobeyed direct orders," Natasha said stiffly. Coulson narrowed his eyes.

"What were your orders?" he asked carefully. Natasha clenched her hands into fists at her side and Clint instantly felt the tension spike in her body.

"Coulson do you really have to-" Clint started to protest, but one sharp look instantly silenced the archer.

"Shut up Barton or I will remove you from this evaluation," Coulson said warningly. Clint promptly shut his mouth and gave his partner an apologetic look. She didn't even blink - all her focus when on their handler.

"To shoot the target with a single bullet and nothing else," she replied evenly.

"And did you do that?" Coulson asked not looking away from Natasha's killer stare for even a second. Most men would cower under her icy cold stare - there were only 3 men on base who could out stare her simply because they wouldn't take her intimidation act; Barton, Coulson and Fury.

Everyone else was freaking _terrified_ of the Widow - and with good reason. After 5 straight minutes of staring at each other Natasha finally relented.

"No," she muttered as she glanced away from their handler's stern expression. Coulson clasped his hands together and placed them on the table.

"Do you regret it?" Coulson asked slowly. Natasha instantly tensed and refused to answer. Coulson leveled her with a piercing look.

"_Natasha_...," he said warningly. She refused to look up at all. Coulson narrowed his eyes.

"Coulson you know what she went through...," Clint said quietly. Coulson sharply shook his head.

"That doesn't excuse her loss of professionalism. I expected better from you - both of you. You don't just report to me - you report to SHIELD as an entirety. Therefore you represent SHIELD in the field. And when you act like reckless revengeful little-" Coulson never got to finish his sentence because Natasha had finally looked up.

"_No_," Natasha's clipped and crisp voice cut through Coulson's angry rant. He paused as he absorbed her answer. Damn.

He dropped his face into his hands and sighed in defeat. _Why does she do this to him?_

"You know you just utterly failed right?" Coulson muttered into his hands. What was he supposed to do with them? Natasha's face tightened in irritation.

"Do you want me to lie to you? I can do a fantastic show of being a remorseful agent who is turning a new leaf and accepting SHIELD ideals as her own. I can do a beautiful act of regretting my inexcusable actions and asking for forgiveness and all that shit. Is that what you want from me Coulson?" she asked challengingly. Did he want the harsh truth or a pretty lie? Most smart men would accept her pretty lie - Coulson just glared at her.

"Torturing targets is against regulation Romanoff!" he said angrily. Natasha's eyes flashed.

"You don't think I _know_ that?" she hissed. _She just doesn't care_. Coulson tensed.

"Disregarding our regulations are grounds for _dismissal_," he said guardedly. Natasha promptly leaned forward and slammed her hands against the table - she felt her partner tense up beside her but he didn't do anything to stop her so she took that as permission to keep going.

His opinion was the _only_ one that mattered to her.

"Yago is a fucking _psychopath_!" she shouted finally fed up with this stupid unnecessary conversation. Coulson didn't back down for even a second.

"How are you any _better_ if you do the same things to him that he did to _you_? Tell me _how_ Natasha?" he shouted back. Natasha's face darkened.

"I got him to talk when no one else could," she said threateningly. Coulson sharply shook his head.

"He _wanted_ to talk to you," he said forcefully. Natasha huffed in irritation.

"Your people don't know-" she started to fume but Coulson instantly cut her off with a burning look of disbelief.

"Our people? _Our_ people? Who the hell do you think you are _agent_ Romanoff? You've been with us for 11 months - you _are_ one of us whether you want to admit that in your damn stubborn Russian head or _not_," he said damningly. Natasha silently shook in place as she curled her hands into fists.

"You want to know what I think of your piss poor organization and your high and mighty impossible goals of world fucking peace-" Natasha started to rage but her partner instantly cut her off.

"Natasha that's _enough_," Clint said firmly. Natasha looked like she wanted to keep going but one sharp look from her partner instantly shut her up. She irritably looked away and completely ignored them both as she glared daggers into the wall beside her. Their handler had asked for her controversial opinion and she would have _gladly_ given it to him.

She didn't believe in their idealist _garbage_. Period.

There were several minutes of tense silence as Coulson took a few calming breaths before he continued the edgy conversation.

"I don't really care what you think right now agent Romanoff. You work for us and there are rules you have to follow. Whether you agree with them or not is not the issue right now. If you _make_ it an issue we will have a problem okay? Now tell me what does regulation state we do now?" Coulson asked steadily. Natasha's eyes flashed.

"_Probation_," she said through gritted teeth. Coulson promptly slid a SHIELD file across the table and it stopped right in front of her. It had her name on it.

"Exactly. These are your terms. You will follow them - or your service will be terminated," Coulson said carefully. When they say terminated they mean - _you're dead._ Natasha didn't pick up the file - but her partner did. Clint silently opened the folder and scanned the documents sitting neatly inside.

Then all hell broke loose.

"Junior agent..._combat training_? Are you out of your god damn mind Coulson?" Clint exclaimed in disbelief. Coulson irritably pinched the bridge of his nose- he honestly can't believe he was the one who got stuck with _these_ two.

Natasha propped her head in her hand with her elbow resting on the table as she watched her partner fume beside her with a bored look. He was so dramatic. Imagine what he will do when she has to go help Conroy out based on their deal. She took a careful breath as he glared daggers at Coulson.

Everything about him screamed _Clint_.

"Now I wonder on whose behalf you are freaking out on Barton. Mine or the poor suckers who get stuck with me?" Natasha muttered as she spun a pen on the table as Barton and Coulson continued to glare at each other.

They ignored her.

Coulson gave Barton a _don't mess with me boy_ look.

"_No_," Clint growled forcefully. Coulson narrowed his eyes.

"It's non-negotiable Barton. 1 week of training junior agents - that's the terms of her probation," Coulson said with finality. Clint narrowed his eyes when he realized Coulson would not reconsider no matter how much of a bad idea this was. She wasn't _ready_ to work with senior agents let alone the _juniors_. They were _babies_. She would eat them _alive_ - she'll bring the crackers and they'll be the cheese.

"Then put me on probation too." Clint said tightly. Coulson narrowed his eyes.

"No. You can't _ask_ for punishment Barton - that defeats the purpose of _having_ punishment," Coulson said warningly. Clint fiercely shook his head.

"Put. me. On. Probation _too_ Coulson," Clint said dangerously leaning closer to his handler. Coulson didn't budge an inch.

"_No_," he said steadily. Clint's eyes flashed before there was a sudden flicker of a metal object flying through the air and the next thing they all knew Coulson had a thin 3 centimeter red line on his cheek.

_Silence_.

"I just attacked a superior officer. Put me on god damn _probation_!" Clint hissed while slamming a metal blade onto the table as evidence of his deliberate crime. Coulson's eye twitched - he needed a coffee - with a _dangerous_ amount of caffeine.

"Barton she has got to learn how to do things on her _own_!" Coulson growled as he slammed his fist down onto the table in frustration.

_BANG_!

They both froze as a ominous red handled knife suddenly embedded itself into the lab table between the two of them.

"I am right _here_ damn it," Natasha said evenly with dangerous vibes coming off of her in waves. They both stared at her for a good five seconds.

"If any of the juniors end up severely traumatized it's all _your_ fault," Clint hissed while staring at his handler accusingly. Traumatized...or dead. Traumatized was the _nice_ scenario.

"You think I'm traumatizing?" a quiet depressed sounding voice said from his right. Clint froze before he whipped his head to his left and got a _good_ look at her sad face. Then he narrowed his eyes.

Natasha Romanoff never looked fucking _sad_.

"_Stop_ acting. You get fucking _high_ off scaring the shit out of people Natasha," Clint said stiffly. He knew her far too well. Natasha just blinked innocently at him. Clint narrowed his eyes even more. His stare said - _bite me_. She huffed.

"So much faith Barton," Natasha muttered as she instantly broke character and poked her knife she had embedded in the table. Clint stared at her in disbelief while Coulson finally cracked across the table.

He _really_ didn't want to deal with the type of mess she can cook up in less in 2 minutes in a room full of inexperienced agents and weapons.

_Shudder_.

The horror.

"Alright fine! You are _both_ on damn probation and you will report here at 11 am tomorrow in the training rooms for the 3 hour instructing you will do. Now please, get _out_ of this base and leave me in peace!" Coulson said before he promptly ran a hand through his hair and messed up his perfectly groomed doe.

_Gasp_.

Coulson _never_ messed up his hair. The apocalypse was coming.

They were going to give him grey hair at age 32.

His two agents didn't move an inch as they stared at him with matching uncomfortable looks.

_Cricket...cricket...cricket..._

"What _is_ it?" Coulson asked in defeat. Clint and Natasha both shifted awkwardly in front of him.

"We don't have a car," they both said in unison. Coulson promptly _banged_ his head against the table.

"Someone kill me _right_ now," he mumbled tiredly. He really shouldn't have said that in front of two of the best assassins in the world.

"We can arrange that...," Natasha said warily. Clint smacked his hand over his face - it was too late in the night for this shit. Coulson sighed - she was too much sometimes.

"Just _shut up_ and get in my car Romanoff," Coulson muttered into the table.

The things he does for his agents who drove him up a wall.

He didn't get paid _nearly_ enough to deal with the type of shit _they_ had.

"Where are your keys Coulson?" Natasha asked suddenly searching through his briefcase right beside him. Coulson's head shot up and he stared at her in utter disbelief. _When the hell did she get over here?_

"Don't go through my things _Natasha_...," Coulson said warningly. Natasha shrugged and silently held out a set of silver keys for him to take dangling from her fingers. He heard a stifled genuine laugh from across the table and his face softened involuntarily.

He knows why he saved her all those weeks ago.

If you were to believe his handler Clint Barton didn't laugh very much at all before he got a partner. Most people would think he was insane to need someone like the Black Widow to get him to laugh.

They'd be right.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Another half hour later three agents were all strapped into a black SHIELD car as Coulson reluctantly drove his two stranded agents home. They were both staring out the window as an odd silence with underlying tension filled the car.

Coulson felt like a damn chauffeur.

"Do I want to know why you two are sitting on polar opposite ends of my back seat?" Coulson asked as he glanced at them through his rear-view mirror. Two assassins instantly stiffened and looked highly uncomfortable even if they were sitting 5 feet apart. The _last_ time they were in their handler's car they were practically molded together.

"_No_," they muttered at the same time before they both promptly looked out their respective windows. Coulson's eyebrows started climbing up his forehead. What was up with _them_?

He had an idea. He would be a horrible spy if he didn't suspect.

"If I made an educated guess...would I be right?" Coulson asked eying their tense postures. The air in the car just got a whole lot more _awkward_.

_Eh_...

"For your own sanity Coulson - please _stop talking_," Clint said warily.

"That bad?" he asked eying the two tense agents who refused to look at each other.

"You have _no_ idea," Natasha muttered as she curled her hands into fists. Coulson froze and then he made a face. _Yuck_.

"Let's keep it that way just a _little_ bit longer," Coulson pleaded. Clint snorted.

"What? You didn't like the free show in Russia?" Clint asked innocently.

Two agents instantly froze as they replayed his blatant suggestive comment in their heads.

"_Barton_!" two highly annoyed voices shouted in outrage. Clint scoffed.

"I understand Coulson's utterly depressing predicament, but I know _you_ liked it so you can't say _nothing_," Clint said giving his partner a pretty smug self-satisfied look. Natasha instantly gave him a dark threatening look in return. The next thing he knew there was a knife digging into his stomach.

"Knife. Cut. Balls. _Won't walk for a week_," she hissed menacingly. Clint started breathing faster and glanced outside to see that they were about to turn onto their street. It took an incredible amount of self control not to throw himself at her and give Coulson a heart attack - and possible crash the car and kill them all.

"Such promises Widow," he said with a fake sigh of disappointment. Natasha gritted her teeth.

Coulson paled as he caught sight of the intensely heated staring match happening behind him.

_That's_ why they weren't looking at each other before. Coulson brought it upon himself.

_Oh dear god. _

"_Stop_ with the deliberate flirting - I swear you two do this just to piss me _off_," Coulson muttered painfully. Clint snorted.

"Anything to ruffle your feathers Coulson," he said dryly. Coulson grumbled something about _need a damn vacation_ under his breath before the car came to a sudden stop.

"Get _out_," Coulson ordered curtly. He was sick of looking at their faces. Clint tipped his imaginary cowboy hat in his direction. Coulson's eye twitched.

"With pleasure. Thank you for the generous ride oh wonderful handler of ours," he said in a horrible western accent before both agents swiftly got out of the car and shut the doors behind them in unison. Coulson sighed as he watched as Natasha silently walked around the car without making a single sound and came to a stop beside her partner.

She was like his damn shadow ninja.

"Better then you two spending even another second on base - you were scaring the shit out of our medical personnel," Coulson said point blank through his car window. Clint flashed him a sharp smile.

"We're field agents - we belong in the field," he said calmly. Coulson nodded - they were hand made for field work.

"Live through probation and you'll be back in the field by Monday," Coulson said firmly. Clint suddenly gripped the edge of the car window and gave his handler a meaningful look that completely changed the tone of their conversation.

"Thanks Phil," Clint said quietly. Coulson took a deep breath - Clint rarely acted nice without a sarcastic comment tagged onto anything he said. In fact, he was a downright _asshole_ to most people. But there was no sarcasm in his voice. He was thanking him for everything that he did for them.

Because he was the reason they were alive today.

"You're welcome. Get some rest and I'll see you two tomorrow okay?" Coulson said carefully. Clint flashed him a cheeky smile and then they slid right back into their normal agent-handler relationship.

"Sure thing. Bye Coulson," he said calmly. Coulson rolled his eyes at the name switch.

Weridos.

"Bye Barton. Don't kill him yet Romanoff," Coulson said warily glancing at the Russian assassin and froze.

She was silently admiring her gun. _Oh dear god she was going to give him a heart attack one day._

"Were you saying something Coulson?" she asked innocently tapping the barrel of her gun against her partner's shoulder. Clint sighed as he watched her continue to mess with their handler. Coulson made a pained expression.

"Not at all. I said nothing. Nothing at all. _Assassins are just a royal pain in my ass_," he muttered under his breath as he started the car back up and drove down their street. The two of them watched their handler leave with matching tense expressions.

"Are we clear yet?" Clint asked steadily. Natasha shook her head.

"No, he's still watching...," Natasha said carefully. Clint's nostrils flared - it's been _way_ to damn long. If they weren't two of the most controlled agents in the world they would have snapped due to the tension that always built up between them a long time ago.

"Does it really fucking matter if he sees?" Clint asked impatiently giving her a heated look. He was their handler - he already knew everything about them. He probably knew both their shoe sizes for crying out loud. Natasha took a careful breath.

"No, probably not. Which means we're clear," she said as she let him see the fire flicker across her eyes too. Clint held his breath - _she wanted him too._

"Thank _god_," he muttered before he promptly spun around and roughly grabbed her around the waist - _and she let him_. He crushed her smaller but still strong body against chest and instantly buried his face in her thick luscious fiery red hair and just _breathed_ her in after months of being apart. His brain felt like it just broke and was stuck on replay as he was bombarded by everything she was.

_Tasha. _

_Tasha._

_Tasha._

"Damn, I missed you Tasha. I thought I lost you too many times," he said painfully. He felt her stiffen in his initial embrace due to deeply engrained instinct, but eventually she managed to relax enough to tightly grip his uniform and press herself closer to him. Natasha didn't know what the hell she was supposed to say to that. When you work in a job where you're forced to be suspicious of your own damn shadow how do you turn the agent off and just be the person left under the code-names and uniform?

They still didn't know how.

It was a desperate tug of war feeling between everything they were and everything they were not.

Hawkeye and Clint Barton.

Black Widow and Natasha Romanoff.

How much of who they are was the assassin? How much was the agent?

How much did they have left just to be _them_?

"_You_? Do you know the shit _I_ have been through over the last week and a half?" Natasha growled into his chest. Clint just held her tighter and pressed his lips against her hair. He missed how she felt wrapped around his body.

"Yeah, I kind of do actually. I remember having amnesia. I know what you went through - I was a childish little asshole that had a gigantic crush on you before he realized what we had was a whole lot deeper," he said apologetically running his hand through her long red hair. Natasha held her breath as she felt him lightly stoke the back of her neck. She leaned back into his touch and stared up at him with cautious green eyes.

"I like you better when your older," she admitted quietly. Clint snorted.

As if he couldn't see that for himself.

"I like myself better too thank you very much," he said dryly as he lifted a hand and traced her face with his shooting finger. Natasha held completely still as he left feather light touches with his fingertips. He paused in his absentminded tracing when he felt cool hands suddenly grasp his face. He felt his heart start to beat faster because it was the same hands he has watched snap a dozen necks with a flick of her wrist in the last 11 months.

He was touching fire and he wanted to be burned so _badly _he honestly yearned for it.

He was so screwed.

"What are you doing Tasha?" he asked a little breathlessly. Natasha gave him an uncomfortable look.

"Just trying to see the difference," she said quietly. Clint gave her a painful smile.

"Nothing changed on the outside Tasha. The screw up was all in my head," he whispered as he leaned into her deadly hands. Her expression instantly darkened.

"How do we make sure it doesn't happen again?" she asked guardedly. Clint shook his head and pulled her tighter against him.

"You can't be sure Tasha. You just have to enjoy what you have while you have it," he said softly trailing his hand down her face and pushing her hair out of her beautiful guarded eyes so that he could see them better. He could get shot tomorrow and die - but today they had each other. He watched silently as she searched his eyes for what he really didn't know - but he hoped she found whatever she was looking for. He went through so much damn pain to get his memories back. He thought he was going to _die_ from his intense fever 4 or 5 times. The only reason he had the will power to pull through was because at the end of it he got to see _her_. The memories really didn't matter to him that much - he hasn't done anything remarkable over the last 4 years. The only memories that matters were the ones with _her_ in them.

_Am I enough now Tasha?_

Natasha's searching look suddenly paused and he thinks he can die happy now because she was suddenly giving him the slightest smile he had ever seen - but it was _there_.

She _rarely_ smiles at him.

"Maybe you don't look any different - but you have no idea have happy I am that you _act_ different," she said with the slightest hint of relief in her voice before she tugged him down and kissed him.

She kissed _him_.

Holy shit.

He instantly wrapped his arms around her waist and somehow she was the one who ended up being pressed into the outer brick wall of their building. He didn't think she wanted to be trapped against a hard surface after being stuck in a stupid SHIELD medical prison for so long, but when he tried to pull back she tightly wrapped her killer legs around him waist and dragged him back until he crashed into her and knocked the breath right out of both of them. Clint instantly broke the kiss and breathed heavily as he stared at her with hooded eyes. He couldn't see anything but her.

What a _dangerous_ predicament for a sniper.

"Tasha am I-" he started to murmured against her lips, but he stumbled over his words when she threaded her fingers through his hair and roughly tugged him forward.

"Just shut up Barton. Just shut up," she muttered before she yanked him back down and smashed their lips together again. Clint reached up and cupped her face gently and kissed her softly while she brutally kissed him back with all her considerable strength. He was so _happy_ to see her and she was just really damn relieved that he was back as her partner. He was holding her like she was the most important person in the entire world and she was holding onto him because he was the only person that ever even _cared _for her. He was willing to give her everything and she didn't think she had anything valuable to even _consider_ giving. They were two people who were in completely different _worlds_ right now and they didn't even know it.

_I'm enough now right Tasha? Please tell me I'm enough for you now. _

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: His inner thoughts always kill me. He let himself fall. Damn. Why did do you do it before she was ready Barton? Sigh. He is an idiot. **

**Damn when are Natasha's feelings going to be as strong as his are?**

**Who knows? They aren't at the same level right now. Clint has just gone and jumped off the freaking diving board into the deep end...and Natasha is still testing the waters with her big fat stubborn toe. But at least she is touching the water at all. She definitely changed after Romania. Her feelings towards him are more solid now than they were after Japan. Can you tell?**

**She is like an elderly snail racing against a turbo fox Barton.**

**I smell...one-sided heartache. **


	112. Chapter 112

**I Dare You **

**A/N: Now watch me ruin a perfectly good kiss scene. **

**LOL. **

**Hey look at that? Is that fluff? I don't write pure fluff often so enjoy :) **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 112**

Two months.

It's been two _months_ since he's really kissed Natasha or even held her close. Being with her while having amnesia was like a disconnected nightmare in his head. He remembered how he felt without his memories. He remembered the confusion, the feeling of missing something important, the terrifying longing and protectiveness he felt towards the partner he didn't remember. He remembered getting to know her all over again. But more importantly he remembered how she didn't want _him_. He remembered seeing in her eyes a haunted look - every time she looked at him it was like she thought he would vanish - like he never existed in her life to begin with.

He can remember watching her systematically start getting closer and closer to shutting down. Even if he didn't see the signs _then,_ now that he had all his memories back he felt like _slapping_ his younger self for being so _stupid_ as to let her get to the point where the woman had to collapse on him before he figured out something was wrong with her. He made it his _job_ to figure out when something was not right by simply assessing her without any questions - because the woman _never_ answers his questions. How the hell did he not know? How could he not see it coming?

_Because your younger self didn't know her, _a voice whispered in his ear. He felt like punching that voice even though he knew it was right. Because Natasha is an expert at locking people out. The only reason he knows what to look for now is because she _let_ him get to know her. She allowed him to see the cracks in her masks. She let him in slowly but surely ever since Colombia - maybe even before that.

But now he was back and his memories were solid. He remembers her. He know who she is. He knows _exactly_ who she is.

And what is the first thing his body does?

It betrays him.

Before Clint even pulled away from the aching kiss he was locked in with Natasha his legs unexpectedly gave out without warning and they both crashed to the ground because he was the only thing holding them up against the wall in the first place.

"What the _hell_ Barton?" Natasha hissed as she hit the ground with a painful _thump_. Clint winced as he fell against her.

"Sorry, still kind of off balance from the virus killing drugs. I woke up only like 8 hours ago," Clint said apologetically while bracing his arms against the wall on either side of her head and pushed himself off of her. Natasha paused in her anger and took a moment to actually assess his condition. He was moving a bit slower than usual, he was covered in small bruises, he had small injection puncture wounds running up and down both his arms - he was actually kind of a mess.

No wonder he looked so tired. Natasha's temper instantly flared.

"Why didn't you _tell_ me?" she asked heatedly. Clint rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

"Um...You are a very enthusiastic kisser and I didn't want to...give the wrong impression?" he tried weakly.

Natasha gave him the death stare. Clint's grin faltered.

Uh oh.

"The _only_ reason I am not punching the hell out of you right now is because it would make your condition _worse_," she said menacingly with a killer glare to match her scary tone. Clint winced. Thank god for small mercies. He didn't think he could stay conscious if she punched him as hard as he knew she could.

She probably knew that too judging by how she was eying him carefully. Clint scowled at the way she was treating him. He was _injured_, not handicapped!

"Stop with the staring. I'm not _that_ fragile Natasha," he muttered trying to protect his slightly wounded pride. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Clint. Next time you _tell_ me your damn medical status or I will cuff you to our fridge and leave you there until you learn not to injure yourself so severely," Natasha said darkly. Clint shifted in place as he laughed hesitantly.

"Okay...so this means I can you tell that kneeling on the ground is _extremely_ painful for me right now and that I'd like to move right?" he said watching her warily through the gap between his bangs. Natasha blinked, before she promptly stood up and dragged him up with her. He sighed in relief as he leaned his forehead against her shoulder. Natasha just narrowed her eyes and tightly gripped the edge of his shirt to make sure she could catch him if he collapsed again.

She can't _believe_ the stupid shit he does sometimes.

"Let's go inside you big fat bruise," she muttered as she dragged him into their building by their joined hands. Clint didn't know if he should tease her about holding his hand or save some of his man pride and protest against her insult.

He decided to be a man.

Which basically meant he was going to piss her off.

Oh well. He'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy watching her fume at him - for the non-serious reasons. A righteously pissed Natasha was sexy as hell - a Natasha with genuine murder raging in her eyes however was _not_. Clint's eyes darkened for a second. He didn't _ever_ want her to get angry enough to do what she nearly did to Yago. _That_ type of anger was not healthy. The type of anger she felt towards at him every day was different though - it was a way for her to blow off some steam, which was really _good_ for an assassin who bottled up way too much of herself on a daily basis.

He understands her a _lot_ better then she thinks he does.

"Well, I'm not _completely_ a bruise -I still don't have a bruise on my _right_ cheek," he said dryly while trying to beat down the devious grin from taking over his face. The next thing he knew he was being roughly shoved back against the hall way wall and had a beautifully _pissed_ Russian crowding his vision. His eyes softened as he watched her hair fall off her shoulder and brush over his face like a curtain of red silk.

_Damn, he missed her so much. _

"Do you _want_ me to punch your other cheek and give you matching bruises Barton?" she growled dangerously close to his face. Clint did nothing to hide the fact that he was breathing a little faster or how much it turned him on when she was rough with him. Natasha scowled when she saw his pupils dilate slightly and read his reaction loud and clear. He simply flashed her a shit-eating grin in response. She thinks she had him where she wanted him - but in reality he was exactly where he wanted to be.

So who was the loser really?

He answered her before she got nasty.

"Your right hand is your stronger punching hand and right now it would be pretty difficult to punch me when you're holding _my_ hand," he said simply while holding up their hands which were still laced together and grinning at her with the smuggest expression she had ever seen on his face. Natasha's tense expression instantly morphed into a scowl, before she moved to get out of this situation with extreme hast - if he had let her.

"Let me _go_," she said irritably trying to tug her hand out of his grasp - but his archer hands were physically much stronger then her shooter ones. Clint just shook his head and held on tighter. Natasha gritted her teeth and steeled her eyes. Normally, this wasn't a problem for her - only a minor inconvenience she could easily fix. _Usually_, she gets out of tight unwanted grasps by simply breaking the enemy's wrist and just be done with it - but he wasn't the enemy and he knew she would never risk breaking something as important as his hands. Therefore in this case - he had the upper hand. Clint's eyes suddenly darkened.

"Never Tasha. I'm _never_ letting you go," he said dead seriously as he turned his response into a burning promise. Natasha froze and a look of extreme alarm flashed across her generally stoic face.

"Don't make promises like that," she growled heatedly at him. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"Why not Tasha? There is _never_ going to be anyone else. Don't you believe me?" he said challengingly. Natasha tensed in his grasp, but he didn't relent. He dared her with his sharp eyes to tell him what they had wasn't something messed up and only _theirs_. Natasha clenched her jaw and fiercely shook her head.

"No. That wasn't my _point_!" she hissed. Clint faltered for a moment because that was not what he had expected her to say, but before she could twist herself out of his grasp he gripped her wrist tighter and stared at her dead in the eye.

"Then what _is_ your point Tasha?" he demanded. He _had_ to know why. He refused to hear her denials anymore. Natasha finally cracked - he wasn't the only one who was tired of lies.

"Because what if you _die_ again? What if _I_ die again? Then it will just hurt more if you make false promises you can't keep. Nobody can keep their promises! Promises are meant to be _broken_! Don't _do_ that to me Barton - Будь ты проклят! Как ты мог оставить меня иметь дело с все по собственному разумению?_(__God damn you!__How could you leave me to deal with everything on my own_?)" she shouted as she roughly shook him back and forth. Clint's eyes filled with painful realization as he watched her slam her eyes shut and shake him until her arms went numb.

He understands.

"I'm sorry I forgot you Natasha. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to forget Tasha," he said agonizingly wrapping his arms around her waist and holding onto her even as her entire body started shaking - in anger or sadness he couldn't tell. Natasha forcefully shook her head.

"I'm not blaming you," she muttered tensely looking away from him. She can't blame him when it wasn't even his fault. She inhaled a sharp breath when she felt his hand rest against her cheek.

"But you're still angry," he said quietly. Natasha's eyes flashed.

"What was I supposed to do Barton? Restart our entire fucking partnership?" she asked heatedly. Clint's eyes fell. He knew she couldn't do that. She would not have been able to handle that type of stress.

"You know, even if I had amnesia I was starting to like you all over again right? I would have felt the same things for you again Tasha," he said softly. Natasha instantly tensed and looked away. The cold, cold truth hung in the air between them.

_She would never want that Barton. _

"It wouldn't have been the same," she whispered bitterly. Clint's eyes saddened and he gave her a weak smile.

_He knows her. _

"I know. I know it wouldn't have been the same - that's why I got Coulson to fix me," he said quietly as he cupped her cheeks and leaned his forehead against hers. Natasha searched his bright blue eyes as she felt him run his hands down her arms and brush the outer portion of her thighs.

"And what if he couldn't do it. What if the SHIELD's stupid little white coats didn't know how to fix you?" she asked guardedly. Clint shook his head before he gently cupped her face and lightly pressed his lips against hers just to reaffirm for them both that he was here and that he was _real_. He only had to wait 5 seconds of no response before Natasha dropped her barriers and cautiously kissed him back.

He could tell she was waiting for his answer though.

Clint doesn't like to keep Natasha waiting - ever.

"_It doesn't matter anymore Tasha_," he whispered against her mouth before he closed his eyes and tilted his head to the side to be able to thoroughly deepen the kiss. He leaned into her and Natasha had to steady herself by bracing her hand against the wall behind her as her partner invaded her mouth and claimed every inch of space as his own domain with his talented tongue. She always hated when men stuck their tongues down her throat during assignments - but Clint was the first man who actually knew what the _hell_ he was doing and how to make it enjoyable on _her_ side. She nearly melted on the spot when his tongue caressed her own and she could taste minty toothpaste and something that just tasted like _Clint_.

She would never, ever, _ever_ tell him in a million _years_ - but she begrudgingly liked how he tasted too (she would forever stand by her original opinion and tell him that spit was nasty stuff till the day she died). She _still_ thought any other man's spit in her mouth was nasty. But it was different and mind short-circuiting when it was her _partner_ kissing her. In the past she had _always_ been the one to control strategic but necessary kisses with her targets and made it a personal rule to never let a man take control of her area of expertise.

She can't _believe_ he made her break her rule.

No matter how damn good he was at it.

"You piss me _off_ Barton," Natasha growled against his lips before she promptly bit his lip causing it to split open and start bleeding. She was not _always_ a pleasant kisser. Clint groaned in something that sounded a lot like pain mixed with pleasure. She opened her eyes to figure out which feeling he was experiencing but when she found him intensely staring back at her with blues eyes clouded with desire she hasn't seen in a _long_ time, she knew it was equal amounts of both.

Masochist indeed.

He slowly pulled away and she watched him lick the blood off his lips with her razor sharp focus, before he leaned forward and daringly nuzzled her ear with his nose. He grinned victoriously when he felt her inhale a sharp breath - bingo.

Every genuine reaction he got out of her was like _gold_ to him.

"I like pissing you off - your green eyes flash prettily when you're mad at me," he whispered in her ear in a slightly deeper voice that spoke volumes of what was on his mind right now. Natasha got lost in his voice for a moment and when she glanced down she didn't even know how she suddenly had two fists full of his shirt tightly held in her hands.

Damn and they were still in the freaking hallway.

And you wondered why they didn't even want to risk touching each other even briefly while at SHIELD?

"Fuck - I really don't want to stand out here all day Barton," she said firmly pushing his face away from hers and spinning around to figure out how to get into their apartment without having keys. She promptly pulled a bobby pin out of her hair and a determined look flashed across her face.

Being a world class escape artist helped during off mission every once in a while. She inserted the pin into the keyhole and could have gotten it unlocked in under 2 minutes if it wasn't for the...distractions. Like how her partner was currently attempting to give her the world's biggest hickey that was humanly possible to make. Natasha started breathing faster as he kissed down the back of her neck and attacked a sensitive spot at the base of her neck. She was going to _kill_ him if anyone saw that.

"It's really hard to pick a lock when you're doing that," she muttered as she leaned heavily against the door. She doesn't remember where her keys were at all, now that she thought about it - they were going to have to change all their locks - _again_. Clint chuckled against her skin and the vibration gave her freaking _Goosebumps_.

"Consider it practice for working under pressure," he murmured against her overheated skin. Natasha narrowed her eyes. She was going to self combust any second now and it was all his fault!

"This isn't _pressure_! This is you not being able to keep your hand to yourself!" she hissed even as she let him press her into the door as he molded chest against her back.

"So sue me - I think I did a pretty fucking fantastic job of staying away from you while we were hauled up on base. We even got off with easy punishment - only one week of junior training is a god damn miracle considering the shit _you_ did," he muttered against her suddenly exposed shoulder. _You're insane for what you did to that bastard- but I don't care right now._

Did that make him crazy too?

"You're missing the point Barton," she said warningly as she tried to keep her heavy harsh breathing as silent as possible. Clint snorted.

"Just open the damn door woman," he whispered as his lips brushed her ear before he promptly bit her ear - _hard_.

Natasha froze as a unfamiliar flash of heat danced through her body and she instantly lost her patience with the door - and him. But mostly the door.

"_Ugh_!" she growled finally fed up with the entire situation. She promptly pulled out her gun from her holster and shot the lock off their door before she spun around and grabbed him but his collar and dragged him inside. Clint's laughter echoed down the hall as she _slammed_ their door shut behind them.

He was pretty sure he was the only man who ever got to her like that.

He wanted to always be the _only_ man who got Natasha Romanoff truly hot under the collar.

No one else would ever have the time _he_ had to get to know how she really worked.

Most people who meet his partner will meet the Widow. Most of them those people will end up dead or wishing they were dead. The rest of the majority will likely meet agent Romanoff. He can only hope that none of _those_ people end will up dead - though he is fairly certain a few will walk away a bit roughed up and probably traumatized.

So what was left?

_Tasha_.

He get's Tasha all to himself. That part of her belongs to him. It will always belong to him.

Because he helped her make it in the first place.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: LOL THERE! Ha! That is my overdue fluff offering okay?**

**They didn't even get inside...fail. **

**Now. Time for _serious_ decompression. And then we have a TON of things to deal with. Like Yago (who is still alive), Kate and Dmitri (where did they go?), probation (poor junior agents are going to end up in medical), Conroy and his crazy weapons (Barton is going to be pissed) and Agent Lee (you probably forgot about her - but Clint didn't).**

**P.S. Thank you guys for making this the 3rd highest reviewed story on Avengers FF :D I was like O.O !?**

**Short chapter I know - I wrote the decompression scene...it was just way too long. I'll update soon!**


	113. Chapter 113

**I dare you **

**A/N: REAL decompression looks like THIS. Last chapter was just a fun sexy tagalong to this monster. **

**EVIL :D haha. **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 113**

Half an hour later the two assassins somehow ended up sprawled out on their ugly green couch because after the crappy few months they just had they deserved to lie around and do absolutely _nothing_.

For now.

Until the next storm in their lives hit their battered shores.

Clint was currently lying flat on his back as he stared up at their dark stained ceiling with a mass of red hair bunched up right next to his face. If he leaned a centimeter to his right it would brush against his cheek. He felt calm. He felt grounded. He felt secure in who he was and where he was.

He thinks he would have probably had a melt down due to his near death experience if he wasn't so damn relieved to see her after he got his head screwed back on straight. He has had a fairly reduced number of mental breakdowns in the last 11 months than at any other time during his contract with SHIELD. He's not naive or blinded by arrogance - he's know why.

He doesn't think _she_ knows though - and he's going to keep it that way. He has a good idea about what he can tell her and what he definitely should _not_. Because there are things he can say that she will tolerate no matter how much she scowls and berates him for sounding cheesy, because he knows that deep, _deep_, (very deep) down she _likes_ his attention. She _enjoys_ it. She might even want it. And sometimes that unfamiliar desire scares her, so he tones it down before he suffocates her in it.

Then there are things he can do that she will allow as long as he doesn't make a big deal out of it; like kissing her, holding her, teasing her, showing her affection when they were alone (he knew she'd kill him if he ever did anything while other people were watching). Again there is a line he can't cross because if he crowds her too much she'll shy away and shut down on him - which is the last thing he wants.

And then...then there are the things that will simply make her freeze up and just _vanish_. He sat on the ground in his mind and picked up those pathetically _weak_ fragile things and mentally _stared_ at them. He promised her in Italy. He _promised_ and she was right - _everyone_ breaks their promises. Then he got angry. He was angry at himself. _How could you do it Barton? How could you do this to yourself?_ He furiously stuffed those stupid things into an armed steel safe. He slammed the door shut and melted the lock with a torch so that he could never open the safe again. Then he angrily kicked it into the blood red ocean that existed at the edge of his mind and watched the safe sink to the bottom of the abyss. Once it was completely out of his sight, he spun around and put as much distance between him and the safe as fast as he possibly could.

He will _never_ tell her any of those things to cause that reaction. She wasn't ready for them.

She might _never_ be ready for the things he decided are best left forgotten at the bottom of the ocean. If he can't prevent himself from feeling it, he'll just pretend it's not there. Then it won't hurt him, it won't scare her and they can continue doing whatever the hell they are doing. Because he needs this. He needs her. And he'll do anything to keep her with him.

Finally he let himself relax when he was done throwing out all the mental trash he had stuffed up in his head. He let himself focus back to where he was right now. Everything around him breathed _home_. It wasn't their shitty apartment that was home. It was _her_ in their shitty apartment _with_ him. That wasn't the part that make his chest ache though. What made him ache was the shocking fact that _she was lying on the damn couch with him_. She was letting him hold her tightly against his body. She had her ear pressed up against his chest and was silently listening to his heart beat - which he kept under tight control. Everything was about control.

He was a _master_ at control. Maybe even better than her because he never lied to himself the way he knew she did. He was just _really_ good at ignoring things.

He was her rival at locking down emotions when he truly wanted to hide them. It was the only way to keep up with her.

"You're scary as _fuck_ when you're in serious enraged mode," he finally said quietly after nearly an hour of comfortable pin drop silence. They needed the silence after all the explosions, the shouting, the unsettling medical chatter and just the incessant background noise of their chaotic lives ringing in their ears.

Decompression is something you'll never understand unless you were an agent who went under all the stress and duress that they did on a daily basis. You don't even _need_ decompression time unless you saw what they saw and were forced to do the difficult things they do on missions.

Field agents had the most taxing job out of every type of operative working for SHIELD.

Clint held his breath as he felt her stiffen against him.

"He _deserved_ it," she muttered darkly into his chest, with dangerous vibes coming off of her as she gripped his shirt tightly in her fist. She would gladly _end_ that bastard if SHIELD ever let her sink her sharp claws into him again. If she knew SHIELD had figured out the virus antidote sooner she would have ended that man's life _days_ ago. Clint frowned as he felt the genuinely hostile feelings radiating off of her.

"That's not the _point_," Clint said warningly as he gripped her hips tighter but made no move to go any further. He wouldn't be making the first move or even pressure her - not after her alarming reaction last time. He valued her trust and their partnership more than his desire to satisfy the burning feeling her honest beauty made him feel. He would give her as long as she needed to feel comfortable in a non-mission scenario. One day she would be ready to let him have her in all the ways he dreamed of but never acted on. One day he could _show_ her how deep his feelings went with his body, but at the same time without scaring her and making her run. He felt her thinking against him. She was debating on whether she was going to be difficult or compliant. To his relief she ended up choosing the latter.

"I know," she finally muttered begrudgingly. Clint's expression darkened either way. He was still not happy with her.

"Don't do it again Natasha. No matter what the target does to us - don't do that again," he said steadily. They wouldn't be pardoned again. He felt her tense and grip his shirt tighter.

"He's still alive," she said darkly without answering his unasked question. She didn't confirm or deny that she was going to listen to him. Clint's mouth thinned into a firm line. Stubborn Russians were a _pain in his ass._

"He's useless to both sides. It's been two months - HYDRA has more than likely already made everything he knows useless to us. His Intel is dead. Either they will send someone to take him out eventually or SHIELD _will_ kill him," he said evenly. They both knew it was an undisputable fact that she was not going to carry out the hit. Not after what she did the first time.

"Why haven't they done it yet?" she asked carefully. He's been awake longer then her, so he knows more right now. It was a really unsettling thought that she trusted him to know enough for both of them. She would get herself up to speed later on her laptop - but for now she was willing to accept his words as proof. That was an honour far greater than most men have ever been allowed in her books.

A good spy never accepted information unless they were absolutely certain it was true. Natasha wasn't being a spy right now so she didn't really give a single shit.

"Because of Dmitri," he answered calmly as he started drawing small lazy circles on her back. Natasha paused as memories of the HYDRA experimentation survivor flashed across her mind.

"Where are they?" she asked as she felt his circles get bigger and move lower down her back. She said nothing. He continued.

"Coulson said they were released after a 5 hour screening for both of them - but they mostly focused on him. They finally let them leave when Bishop threatened to press charges against them for unwarranted detainment," he said with amusement colouring his tone. Natasha narrowed her eyes - she didn't need to lift her face off his chest to know what was spread across _his_ face.

"Why are you smirking?" she asked suspiciously. Clint's smirk got even _worse_.

"Because at the end of the long ass interrogation Fury offered them a job at SHIELD," he said before he stifled an unexpected laugh against her hair. Now she was just utterly _confused_.

"So?" she asked still lost on why that sounded so hilarious to him. Clint shook his head as he grinned and held her even tighter against him.

"They said _fuck no _to that_._ They said there was no way in hell they want to work for an organization that spat out insane agents like _us_," Clint said with a snicker. Natasha huffed and rolled her eyes.

"God, you are still such a child," she muttered even as his filthy smirk faded as his silent drawing started up again.

"Never said I wasn't still childish...just less," he said with a shrug. As the circles got big Natasha finally realized he was drawing target boards on her back. She groaned against his shirt.

"Are you _serious_ Barton?" she asked in disbelief. She felt him grin against her hair.

"Hey, you started out as a target," he pointed out teasingly. She banged her head against his shoulder.

"You're pathetic," she muttered when she had nothing left to say. Clint chuckled.

"I can live with that," he said warmly. They were quiet for another few minutes as he stopped drawing his little target boards on her back and started running his large hand through her hair. It felt so good she wanted to melt - but she resisted just barely because she was such a _stubborn_ woman like that. He was persistent though, because he knew she would crack if he kept going. So when his second hand joined his first, he started massaging her scalp in sensual motions and she felt her resolve not to react start to crumble - but she _still_ held on with all her considerable strength. As his hands got deeper and deeper into her hair she finally lost her cool because no one has _ever_ done this for her. She felt herself relax as a treacherous sigh of real _honest_ pleasure slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it. She froze even if his hands didn't - because he was suddenly breathing right beside her head.

"Where's all the tension now Tasha?" he whispered in her ear.

She wanted to _slap_ the extremely smug expression off his damn face that she _knew_ was sitting there. She didn't want him to get too cocky though so she steeled her resolve and tried to catch him off guard.

"I read the official Romanian mission report Hill and Fury co-wrote last week," she said suddenly. Clint's soothing ministration didn't stop for even a second. Damn, she thought that would get him. Damn. Damn. Damn.

"I did too - this morning," he said calmly. She narrowed her eyes.

"It said you partnered with Hill when we got separated," she said cautiously. _That_ made him pause and his hands finally slipped out of her hair before he rested them on her hips again. She waited for his response.

"Jealous?" he asked simply.

Natasha, _at long last_ lifted her head off his chest and gave him a flat out blank stare.

First of all, Hill hated his _guts_.

Second of all, she was fucking second in command. The woman was the boss under the_ BOSS_.

Third of all - _she_ was the one lying on an ugly green couch with him - not Hill.

She was honestly not jealous. There was nothing to be jealous about.

"Are you insane? That woman is in love with her job. She is a raging workaholic. She'd marry SHIELD if it was legal," Natasha said with a disbelieving shake of her head. The woman was _crazy_.

Pot...calling the kettle black anyone?

Clint just silently reached up and brushed all the red hair out of her face and curled it behind her ear as he stared up at her beautiful face and haunted eyes. He wanted to know why they looked haunted.

"Why did you scream Tasha?" he asked quietly going back to the things they should have talked about weeks ago, but they were both in no condition to do so at that time.

Natasha froze. If she wasn't the one sitting on top she would have started hyperventilating already and probably hurt him on accident while trying to free herself. She might _still_ have freaked if he wasn't so calm underneath her. He was actually still as a rock as he watched the tension spike in her body and alarming expressions flash across her face - she wasn't wearing any of her masks right now to stop him from seeing how upset she truly was. He cared for her yes - but he wouldn't be alive today if he wasn't sort of underhanded.

"_What_?" She hated herself for sounding so shaky, because the Black Widow was _never_ supposed to be insecure. Certainty was crucial. Efficiency was crucial. Control was crucial. The Black Widow was all of those things.

But _she_ wasn't the Widow right now. And she was being cornered by the only man who knew how to get under her skin - he was the only one she ever let get close enough to unsettle her.

"In Romania, Tasha. What did the hallucination drugs make you see?" he asked quietly but evenly.

Clint was a lot smarter than people give him credit for. He knew when to ask questions and how to get someone into a secured feeling to answer them. He wasn't a half bad interrogator himself. He was still lying flat on his back on the couch with his hands firmly restricted to his sides. In this position she was the one with _all_ the control - and yet she still looked like a cornered animal.

He had completely caught her off guard. Natasha covered her eyes with one hand and took several uneasy breaths as she tried to calm down from the shock and the sudden flash of bloody memories she did such a great job of ignoring ever since she woke up the first time. _Why_ did he have to bring that up? Anything else but that.

"Not now. Not now Clint," she whispered as she fell sideways against the back of the couch and stared vacantly at his chest. Clint ignored the softer part of him that was shouting that he was a god damn monster for upsetting her so much, but the colder rational side said that she needed to deal with what she saw (or remembered) instead of just pushing it away.

"It's been two months Natasha," he said carefully. Natasha shook her head and the haunted look deepened in her eyes - she was looking at him, but she wasn't actually seeing _him_. Whatever happened to her - it was _bad_.

"But it's only been a week and a half in _my_ head Clint. It's too fresh. Don't make me talk about it right now," she said shakily. Clint watched her teeter over the edge of a meltdown and finally sighed in defeat, before he just tugged her back down and wrapped his arms around her waist. He ignored how she simply fell against him like a trembling leaf. He felt sick with himself - but her intense reaction proved him right. It was still bothering her.

"If you bottle things up - you're going to explode," he said quietly against her cheek. And then he felt the shift as suddenly the haunted look was gone from her eyes and the shock literally melted right off her face. Left in its place were cold eyes and a terrifying expression. He simply dropped his hands and let her push herself up into a stiff sitting position that had her towering over him.

"I lived my _whole_ fucking life bottling things up just fine Barton," she said darkly, and suddenly the walls were all back up at full force.

And just like that he was talking to the Widow now. Tasha was nowhere in sight.

"And how well does that work for you Natasha?" he asked calmly. He watched her jaw clench as she glared at him.

"Shut up before I hurt you Barton," she said warningly. _Defense mechanism_, his brain whispered. Clint ignored her warning and even taped her on the forehead daringly.

"Walls only keep the world out Natasha. It doesn't keep the guilt out," he said giving her a pained faraway look. Natasha angrily shook her head.

"You wouldn't understand _my_ guilt Barton. It's not the same as just taking someone's life. I've taken people's sanity, I've taken away people's desire to live, I've _destroyed_ people. I've watched people destroyed _themselves_ without any help from me!" she hissed. Clint tensed and his expression darkened.

"No? You don't think I understand _that_ type of guilt? Is that your argument now Natasha? Because I can tell you that just the shit I saw in Romania alone is enough to break any average agent. How do I not know about that guilt, when I watched two good SHIELD agents commit _suicide_ because they were infected with the same virus I was Natasha? How can I not feel that guilt, when I survived and they _didn't_? How am I going to be able to tell a dead agent's partner that he died with _regrets_? That staying away from her was his biggest regret? _How_ am I going to do that Natasha?" he demanded as he _finally_ sat up and tightly grabbed her by the shoulders. Natasha froze and stopped breathing- that was too close to home. She knows about his own past suicide attempts. He _told_ her.

Her eyes flickered and dark black turned into bright green and suddenly he knew he was looking at Tasha again.

"That wasn't in the mission report Barton," she whispered. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"I wasn't conscious when they wrote the mission report. Hill wasn't with me when that happened," he said guardedly. Natasha started to shake slightly under his grasp as she stared at him with the same haunted look as before.

"What do you want me to say Barton? What do you want me to _say_?" she asked in defeat. She didn't know what she was supposed to do. She didn't know how to help him. She didn't know how to help other people - all she could do was hurt people. She was _designed_ to hurt people. Clint slowly shook his head as he saw the conflict rage in her eyes.

"_Nothing_. You don't have to say _anything_ Natasha. I don't need words. That's not what I need from you. I just want you to be here. I just want you to stay. I just want you to accept that there is something _worth_ staying here for," he whispered as he cupped her face and forced her to look at him dead in the eye. He felt her sag against him and moved one arm to wrap around her waist to keep her upright.

"You _chose_ to defect Natasha. You chose to come to America, even if this is not your home. You chose to be my partner. You made all these choices on your own Natasha - make sure they _mean_ something," he said earnestly. He watched her eyes cloud over with emotions he couldn't pinpoint.

"They _do_ mean something. Having a choice means _everything_," she whispered in a faraway voice. _You were my choice, _echoed in her ears. Clint's eyes softened and he tugged her into a bone crushing embrace.

"Good. Keep making choices - make the _right_ choices. It's your life Natasha. Nobody is designing your memories for you. Nobody is planning your future for you. Nobody is plotting your death systematically - and if they are, at least you aren't in their direct control anymore. SHIELD gives us missions, direction, a way to clear our ledgers - but they don't own us. They don't brainwash us. They don't take our choice from us Natasha. That's the most important thing to me. What do _you_ think?" he asked quietly against her hair.

No answer.

He furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Tasha?" he called out to her as he ran his hands through her hair. She sank deeper into his chest and he felt her breathing start to even out.

She was half-asleep.

"Tired," she muttered sleepily. She was just so _tired_ after everything that has happened. She was tired of fighting. She was tired of arguing with him. She was tired of killing and always being on guard that everyone around her wanted to kill _her_. She was just drained completely. Clint furrowed his brow in genuine concern.

"How can you still be tired after crashing for 2 days woman?" he asked suspiciously. Natasha snorted weakly.

"How the hell should I know Barton? It wasn't exactly a comfortable sleep," she muttered as she started to doze off against his shoulder. She couldn't sleep while he was still under and once he was awake it was a whole other _nightmare_. There was no time to sleep. She was too wired to sleep.

_Now_ she could finally fucking _sleep _and she was going to take advatage of it. If he wanted to keep talking he could go _right_ ahead - she would just clock out while listening to the rhythm of his voice. Clint narrowed his eyes - he wasn't done with her yet.

"That's not healthy to work yourself into the ground like that Tasha - never do it again," Clint said warningly. Natasha huffed. _At least you know your limit now_ - the survival portion of her brain whispered. It never shut off - _never_. Even now, a part of her mind was designated to monitor their surroundings. Barton was not a threat - but everything else was a threat. Everyone else could be a potential threat. She's good at multitasking though. The part of her that wanted to rest was not the same as the part of her mind that _always_ stayed alert and would wake her at the slightest hint of disturbance. Her entire mind was programmed to be able to work under any type of circumstance, any reasonable level of exhaustion (until the last second), any phase of wakefulness and respond in any environment no matter what she was doing or who she was with.

_This_ is what the enhancers did to her. The reason she was such a good spy. Such a good agent. They turned her into a god damn paranoid freak that could barely look at her own shadow without scrutinizing it - but she was good at hiding it. All of it. She could shove that part of her brain to the side. She rationally knew she wasn't in any danger and that she could tell the calculative side of her brain to fuck off and leave her in god damn peace. It wouldn't stop running - but she could pretend it wasn't there. She could pretend to be normal with him.

Sometimes you need to pretend before something can be real.

She needed this to be real.

She needed it to be real so _badly._

"Just shut the hell up Barton - I'm trying to sleep here," Natasha grumbled against his collarbone. Clint blinked as he momentarily got distracted from their serious conversation when she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her long fingers in his short hair. When she lightly scratched his scalp with her blunt nails he thinks he practically melted on the spot and fell into a peaceful daze. She was like a damn drug.

God, he was pathetic.

He officially gave up talking to her when the wall of exhaustion he was ignoring suddenly crashed down on him. He sank back into the couch against the cushions with her still wrapped around him and sitting in his lap, while she rested her head against his shoulder.

It was _really_ tempting to just fall asleep here - but they would both wake up in a foul cranky mood tomorrow morning with kinks in their necks. He could tell she was already half asleep on him by the way the hands in his hair started to go limp.

Clint sighed and regretfully broke the moment.

"This is not the most comfortable place to sleep. Let me carry you to bed," Clint muttered reluctantly as he tried to rearrange her in his arms to be able to pick her up and deposit her off in her room.

Natasha's sharp green eyes instantly flashed open and they were completely wide awake. Damn, she lost the peaceful image she was holding onto in her head to fall asleep. Damn. Damn. Damn.

"_No_," she said darkly as she grabbed a fist full of his shirt in a tight death grip -she wasn't letting him go _anywhere_. Clint was slightly taken aback by the unexpected reaction - but really it was not unexpected at all.

She almost lost him.

She almost died.

_He_ almost died.

Dying kind of rearranged your priorities.

"But Tasha I need to sleep too - you're not the only one who is exhausted," Clint said with sigh as he held her tighter like he knew she wanted. Natasha's eyes grew weary - she knew what she wanted. Why couldn't just he just read her and give it to her?

Clint wasn't stupid. He knew what she wanted too - but he wanted her to _ask_ him for it. He wanted her to tell him exactly what she wanted. She _never_ tells him what she wants. He was sick of reading her. He was tired and he wanted to sleep and she needed to get over her damn stubbornness before he got fed up and went to sleep without her.

"You have to say it if you want it Tasha. Otherwise I'll be forced to be a gentlemen and deposit you on your bed whether you want to or not, before I turn around and head over to _my_ own bed which is calling me," Clint said cautiously. Natasha scoffed and gripped him tighter.

No he wasn't.

She'd _flip her shit_ if he tried to escape. She'd go ninja assassin on his ass. She'd tie him down if she had to. She wasn't letting him go anywhere. He might be the one holding her with his arms wrapped securely around her waist_,_ but _he_ was the one who was trapped - not her.

The thing is - he really doesn't mind either way. He just wanted to get this over with and get some damn sleep.

"I don't _like_ gentlemen," she muttered stubbornly avoiding the problem. Clint snorted - well that was obvious. He was hardly a gentleman even on a good day.

"Say it," he repeated carefully. Natasha frowned and stubbornly hide her face against the crook of his neck.

"_No_," she said sharply. Clint just sighed and shook his head.

"Then get _off_ me and go to bed Natasha," he muttered as he poked her in the side. Natasha twitched and he could practically _feel_ the deep scowl on her face against his skin.

"Sleep...," she muttered. Clint paused to hear the rest - but he wasn't surprised when she slammed her mouth shut and refused to continue. He groaned - she was such a stubborn Russian _mule_ right until the end

He doesn't understand how hard it was to verbalized these things though. She's never really wanted something. She was trained not to want things. When you want things people can use them against you. Wanting something creates a liability...but she had already made this whole god damn _whatever_ this was between them into a liability a long time ago. The last time they did this was for _his_ comfort. It wasn't for her. It wasn't because she necessarily _wanted_ it then.

She wants it _now_.

"Sleep what Natasha?" Clint asked patiently. He felt her take several deep breaths as he ran his hand down her back and carefully slipped under the back of her shirt to feel the warm skin of her back against the rough palms of his hands. He felt her sigh in pleasure as he explored her body with his hands. He treated her like she was something special to be cherished - most men treated her like cheap trash.

Clint Barton has never been most people.

Who would be stupid enough to treat Natasha anything less than like a red tinted treasure?

_Cricket...cricket...cricket..._

Okay, even he knew he was royally screwed for life. No one said he wasn't kind of blinded by his feelings for her - but the difference was that he _knew_ what she did for a living. He knew very well how dark and vicious she could get. Natasha wasn't made of flowers and candies - she was built from fire, determination and pain. He knew she wasn't a nice person by nature. He understood on some level that there was a reason she always kept to herself. She wasn't good with people - not on a personal level. She was good at pretending. She was good at manipulating people. She was good at conning people. She was good at everything the Red Room trained her to be good at. But too many people for too long in her space without a mission objective to focus on unsettled her. She preferred being alone out of necessity - because it was safer.

He knew how that felt. He knew the desire to stay alive was stronger than the suffocating feeling of loneliness that crept up on you no matter how convinced you were that being alone was the best option. He spent _years_ working SHIELD sniping ops alone after all. He also had no illusions about how imperfect she was, beyond the fact that she made him feel things no one else has ever made him feel.

But he never forgot what she _was_. He doesn't put her on a pedestal because she is full of flaws and imperfections. He is actually _relieved_ that she is imperfect - because how on earth would he be able to keep her if she was perfect? There was no way he was allowed to have perfect things. Natasha was a dangerous jabbed piece of work with blood still staining her rough edges.

But when he sees _this_ side of her, he feels like the world is missing something big. Something she shows no one but him. Something more than the killer everyone knew she was. There was something more in her.

She lies.

She cheats.

She kills.

She hurts.

_...But she's still lonely.  
_  
"...with me," she agonizingly spat out before she buried her head in his shirt and wrapped herself around him so tightly he nearly stopped breathing. Natasha slammed her eyes shut and tried to pretend she didn't exist.

Ugh, that was mortifying.

She can't _believe_ she just said sappy shit like that.

Someone shoot her _right this second_.

How dare he make her say that? This is why she doesn't tell people what she _wants_ damn it.

Clint smiled warmly as she refused to look up even if he tugged on her a little.

She actually told him what she wanted. Natasha rarely wanted anything - but he knew she wanted _him_.

That was enough.

"Okay," he breathed out against her hair before he picked her with her arms around his neck and her legs wrapped around his waist. If anyone saw them in their own apartment having their own private moment she'd viciously _stab_ them with prejudice. Clint would probably stop her...eventually. It all depended on how tender the moment they interrupted really was because she doesn't give them to him often.

"Barton...?" Natasha muttered into his shoulder. Clint's expression darkened slightly. They weren't in the field whatsoever - he really didn't want to hear his last name right now. Nothing they were doing had anything to do with their jobs. He hope she understood that everything was just _them_. He hoped she knew that he doesn't do shit like this with random women - he didn't do it with _anyone_.

But he would do it with her. He would do anything for her.

That was actually kind of scary when you think about it. He was smart enough not to dwell on it.

"Bedroom Natasha...," he said warningly. She switched names immediately.

"Clint...?" she tried again but then trailed off without finishing her thought. Clint concentrated on getting her bedroom door open while carrying her - when he succeeded, he finally answered her.

"What is it Tasha?" he asked quietly while walking into her dark room and shutting the door behind him with his foot. Natasha shifted in his arms but didn't let him go.

"What are we doing?" she asked guardedly as he gently dropped her onto her bed. He pushed her back until she fell against her pillow and was staring up at him with semi-cautious eyes as her red hair fanned out against her pillow. Natasha treated everything with caution so he wasn't that insulted. He carefully climbed on top of her and gave her every opportunity to shove him away before he thoroughly trapped her between the bed and his chest. He took a careful breath and steeled himself to do what he had to do.

"Nothing. We're not doing anything at all. You're going to sleep and I'm going to sleep and we just happen to be sharing a bed. That's all," he said in a frighteningly calm voice as he dragged her closer and tightly held her against his chest. He buried his face in her hair and just breathed her in. That was all he wanted right now. If he didn't label anything and make any barriers that made her feel trapped or suffocated maybe she wouldn't leave. They've both spent way too many nights cold and alone. Even while living together for months they stayed that way. She has only slept in his bed once before and that was after his worst most catastrophic breakdown of his _life_. Natasha stared at him for a long time.

"So this means nothing," she said quietly turning away from him. Clint furrowed his brow at her reaction.

Train wrecked stop - _huh_?

"No. I didn't say that. I said we're not doing anything worth freaking out about. Do you really think this means nothing? Are we really those people Natasha?" Clint asked carefully pulling her face back to look at him and stoked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. All of this was extremely new to her so she melted immediately - because it was _him_.

She'd be stupid to think it was nothing.

She'd be even _more_ stupid to think it would feel the same with just anyone else. It's not about a warm body - it's about who that body belongs to.

"No," she said softly. Targets don't touch her like this. Targets made her feel like everywhere they touched left a dirty stain she can't get off no matter how many times she rubbed her skin until it was pink and raw. _His_ touches felt like he was erasing every other hand that had ever been on her body before him and claiming it at his.

He owned something very dangerous - it'd kill him if he doesn't take care of it properly. Not everyone can handle a girl like Natasha Romanoff _and_ manage to keep her happy at the same time.

Clint loved a challenge.

"Exactly. As long as this is what _you_ want," he said carefully. This was the longest he has managed to ever hold her - she doesn't let him often. He finally felt her fully relax against him and he really hoped she'd stay the whole night. They stared at each other for a long time before he finally had to close his eyes because of how tired he truly was.

"Good night Tasha," he whispered before he leaned forward and pressed his lips against her forehead. Natasha held her breath as he stayed there for a long moment before he pulled away and dragged her into a tight but comfortable embrace.

"Good night," she said quietly as she watched him drift off to sleep. Her insomnia wouldn't let her go to sleep right away - but this was a nice alternative. She's watched hundreds of men sleep in her career as a Russian assassin. Most of the time that was when she killed them. It was odd watching a man sleep and wanting to watch _over_ him instead of waiting until the right moment to strike. It was even weirder that she wanted to fall asleep herself.

"Clint?" she said suddenly after nearly an hour of peaceful silence.

"Hmm?" he said half asleep - but not really. Assassins never slept deeply - they only pretended to. They also didn't sleep with other assassins because it was way too dangerous to fall asleep beside another killer- and yet here they were. They both had a gun somewhere on their person - but they would shoot themselves before they ever shot the other. They worked too hard to keep their partner alive.

"I'm glad you're not dead," she said quietly, stroking his face like he always did for her. All the _genuine_ affection she ever used she learned from him. Seduction doesn't require affection. Seduction was all based on lust. He was glad she never used her field skills on him. He opened his eyes and found her staring at him with a peculiar look on her face - like she didn't know what she was doing anymore. He was pretty sure she was just doing whatever felt right.

"Me too Tasha," he whispered as he turned his head to the side and kissed the palm of her hand that has shot hundreds but spared him.

_Everything is quiet after a long hard fought battle. _

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: I think I died from the Clintasha feels. Clint finally figured out how to show her his affection without royally freaking her out. **

**Damn well that took a long time for him to learn.**

**It's **_**hard**_** to be with someone like Natasha isn't it Clint?**

**There are lines he can't cross, things he can't say and has to accept what they can and can't be.**

**And yet if he can manage that - she'll stay. **

**So is it really worth it in the end Barton?**

**He'd say yes. That poor sucker. **

**NOW fluff is over. AHAHAHA :D Time to get Yago. Next chapter will be Dmitri vs. Yago before the probation period beings. **

**And then...we go on my next disaster mission! Hehehehe..I'm silently loading my Clintasha feels killer guns.**

**I smell...Natasha being a sly underhanded Russian badass. **


	114. Chapter 114

**I Dare You **

**A/N: Apparently no one likes reviewing fluff chapters…or you all got so overcome with feels or something to review….but it makes me sad :( SO WHEN I AM SAD I WRITE CLINTASHA ANGST AND KILL ALL THE FEELS IN SIGHT! (actually I'm lying because I cut this chapter in half so all the angst was in the second half) Oh well. Either way it's action time. Cause I am much better at that then fluff. I get bored with fluff. Nobody seems to like my fluff :(**

**Shadow's heart breaks* /3**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 114**

In a fairytale the prince and the princess meet, they fall in love, they get separated by some twisted fate and evil stands between their destiny to be together forever.

Then the prince suddenly transforms into a hero when the villain kidnaps the princess and she becomes a damsel in distress that the hero has to rescue. He picks up a sword he has never used before in his pampered life and slays the dangerous fire breathing dragon that guards her cell and the villain surrenders when the dashing handsome prince points his mighty tool in his face. Then he swoops his princess into his arms and carries her off into the sunset.

And they live happily ever after.

The end.

_Cricket…cricket…cricket…_

Is that what you want?

What type of bullshit story is that?

Let me tell you about reality.

In reality there are no happily ever afters.

In reality the hero loses and is burned to a crisp, the princess is tortured and dies in a dirty cell and her body is never recovered, the villain changes his name and becomes the ominous "businessman" and runs the world behind the scenes using politicians as his puppets, castles burn to the ground, revolutions take hold of the world, peasants lead a revolt, war kills millions, families are broken, people fight to the death, people get hurt, people die, people lose faith in humanity, people get swallowed up by the darkness inside of them and then the people who survive the madness make up fairytales to tell their children because pretty lies are so much easier to accept then the harsh truth that the world is not a nice place and it never will be.

In reality your life is full of horrifying moments, painful moments, depressing moments and once in a while if fate is kind to you there is the rare peaceful moments.

And then history repeats itself.

In the life of a pair of assassins, the peace doesn't last long at all. It's so fleeting it's over before you know it and fades like a half remembered dream.

There are no such things as happily ever afters. No story has a real happy ending. Don't ever forget that.

_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_

Clint startled awake and instantly reached for his gun that was stuffed into the back of his pants, but he didn't get that far because his jerky movements made his head come in sharp contact with something soft, _way_ too close and about to be extremely pissed.

_BANG_! The sounds of two thick assassin skulls knocking together filled the room followed by colourful swearing in Russian, English and several other European languages.

"Holy _shit_ Barton!" a familiar Russian voice shouted in pain as her eyes flashed opened and she found herself staring down at the pained face of her partner who was currently suffering from a _seriously_ bloody nose.

_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_

What an epic wakeup call right?

"Fuck that hurt. I wasn't expecting you to be right there Tasha," he groaned as he held his face in pain as he tried to pry his watery eyes open and get a good look at the pissed face of the Russian lying on top of him.

He's not used to waking up with someone _that_ close to his face. He wasn't used to waking up to someone at all. He felt her shove herself away from his steadily bleeding face and promptly sat up with a fierce scowl gracing _her_ reddening face - it wasn't from embarrassment, it was the fact that he had hit her just _that_ hard. It was a miracle he hadn't broken her nose too.

"I went to sleep here you jackass - why wouldn't I be here?" she hissed at him. She was righteously pissed off and barely restraining herself from slapping him. Just barely. Clint grunted while trying to stop the bleeding with his hand by holding his nose.

"I thought you'd leave after I fell asleep or something," he muttered under his breath. Natasha narrowed her eyes at his words as she stared down at him.

"Why would I do that Barton?" Natasha asked irritably rubbing her aching forehead. His head was so fucking _hard_. Clint held his bleeding nose and shrugged reluctantly.

_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_

"I don't know, I just expected...you know what? Hold that thought," he muttered before he promptly flipped them over and reached over her to grab the infernal beeping SHIELD phone off her bedside table. He stared at the caller I.D for 5 whole seconds before he flipped it open and held it to his ear with a dark and deadly expression on his face.

"What do you _want_ from me Coulson?" Clint growled while making sure to make his displeasure brutally clear in his annoyed tone. His handler was the reason they had the worst wakeup call of their lives.

Now that wasn't quite true. Waking up to your partner strapped to a bomb that was about to explode chained to a chair across from you? That wins that lovely prize as the worst wakeup call of their lives.

He heard Coulson's unimpressed sigh loud and clear.

"This is actually agent Romanoff's phone...but good morning to you too _sunshine_," Coulson said sarcastically. Clint's eye twitched as he snatch a bunch of tissues out of the tissue box also sitting on her bedside table and started stuffing them up his bloody nose.

"Get to the damn point of this call Coulson or I swear to god I will let her thigh choke one of your little _juniors_ into a comatose state today," Clint spat threateningly. He was severely pissed, along with more than a bit cranky himself because he was clearly _not_ a morning person.

"Where is Romanoff?" Coulson asked calmly instead of answering his question. Clint scowled at the phone - he hated when his handler was evasive like this.

"She's around here somewher-...why the hell are you going back to sleep _woman_?" Clint exclaimed in disbelief as he stared down at the fake sleeping Russian sprawled across the sheets under him.

Natasha just flipped him the bird without opening her eyes. Clearly she was telling him to fuck off and let her go back to sleep. SHIELD handlers on the phone be damned.

There was a long pause before Clint heard another long drawn out sigh at the other end of the line.

"...Barton get your ass out of her bed and dragged Romanoff out of it along with you - Dmitri Braginksi is going to be coming to high security prison in an hour and you two need to be here," Coulson said evenly.

Clint and Natasha both tensed and stopped being two of the world's biggest jackasses towards their poor handler. Clint stared down at his partner and watched as her eyes flashed open and she stared back at him - the caution was mirrored on both their faces. And then Clint furrowed his brow.

"Wait, back up - he is going to talk to that little bastard at-" he glanced at the time on the phone screen-" 8 in the damn morning?" Clint asked suspiciously. He heard Coulson shuffle around a tight space that sounded like a car before he answered.

"Yes. He just called. Apparently they are going to be sent on a long term undercover op somewhere he refused to tell me, so they need to get this done now or never. I hacked CIA database- they are being sent to Bangkok to track down one of their own missing operatives who got captured by a war lord in that country - but that is irrelevant. What is relevant is that you two need to clean up, get dressed and be out in the next 10 minutes," Coulson said steadily.

"I thought we were indefinitely banned from our prison compound?" Clint asked warily rubbing his eyes as he tried to wake himself up more because they clearly weren't going to have any more time to sleep.

"No one said you were banned - you are just not allowed to take out this specific target. You probably want to be here for this," Coulson said cautiously. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"Why?" he asked carefully. Of course they were going - but there was something else Coulson wasn't telling them.

"Because _I_ am going to be the one to shoot him after they're done," Coulson said with finality. Clint and Natasha's faces both darkened.

Their handler was going to finish the job they were no longer qualified to do. It was almost insulting. Clint was about to respond when the phone was expertly knocked out of his hand and fell into a small waiting palm.

"Go clean the mess of blood off your face and put ice on your nose Barton," Natasha ordered calmly as she finally sat up and pressed _her_ phone to her own ear. Clint sputtered in front of her.

"But-" he started to protest but was silenced by a sharp glare.

"_Go_," she said firmly. Clint tried to take the phone back from her, but she planted a firm hand against his chest and pushed him back forcefully.

"Barton," she said warningly. Clint huffed, but back off as he winced from the pain in his face. He hated when she knew he was genuinely uncomfortable.

"You're such an asshole...," he muttered as he held his bloody nose and dragged himself towards her washroom. She steadily watched him make his irritable walk of shame. When he glanced back, she glared at him to make sure he kept walking and entered the bathroom. When he angrily slammed the door shut behind him she finally looked away.

"...do I want to know why Barton is covered in blood?" Coulson asked warily in her ear. Natasha frowned.

"No. It's stupid," she said curtly. Barton was an idiot (actually he _wasn't_ and she knew that very well - she just liked to call him one for the hell of it). She felt a shift in the atmosphere and could feel the uncomfortable vibes coming off of their handler. She knew what was coming.

"Do you even understand how uncomfortable this is for me?" Coulson asked right on cue. Natasha's face went blank. Well he wasn't subtle at all.

"I'm a manipulation expert - I think I have an idea about how you feel Coulson," Natasha said flatly. She just really _didn't_ care. He would whine at her about fraternization because it was his job and she would just keep blowing him off because she was an certified law-breaker.

It was an odd work relationship - but it worked.

"5 years that man has been single. 5 god damn _years_," Coulson muttered under his breath. _Why did the first woman to catch the archer's eye have to be the enemy?_ Natasha ignored his usual stab at their violation of SHIELD regs and went straight to the heart of the problem.

"Why did you really want us there Coulson?" Natasha asked carefully. Coulson paused - damn she was sharp.

"We got Intel that led us to believe that HYDRA is going to send someone to take out Yago today," he said quietly. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Do you want us to eliminate the threat?" she asked slowly. She could hear Coulson lean back in his seat as the leather squeaked as he moved.

"No. I want _you_ to _identify_ the threat," he said with an odd undertone in his voice he clearly knew she would pick up. Something was off. Natasha's lips thinned as she thought about his order.

"How do you know if I'll recognize a HYDRA operative? I've had limited contact with HYDRA in the past. I told you this before," Natasha said carefully. There were several beats of silence before he just said the thing he has been meaning to say this whole time.

"We think they hired a high level Red Room operative," he said cautiously. Natasha didn't even blink.

"I'll identify them," she said with no inflection in her voice. Coulson took a deep breath.

"You know you work for us right Natasha?" Coulson said carefully. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Is this a test?" she asked suspiciously. Coulson didn't even spare a second.

"Yes," he said simply. She inhaled a sharp breath.

Well at least he was being frank with her.

"I'm not a double agent Coulson," Natasha said rigidly. Coulson took a deep breath and closed his eyes - he really needed a vacation from all this stress.

"I know you're not. _I_ trust you Natasha. Do this for SHIELD and they'll trust you even more," he said evenly. Natasha clenched her jaw.

"There is no one in Red Room that doesn't deserve to die," she said seriously. _But there was only one man she would never sell out. _But he didn't need to know that.

"Good. I left your car outside - you two left it on the most random street in Manhattan. Get Barton and be at the prison in half an hour," he said steadily before he promptly hung up. She pulled the cell phone away from her ear and ended the call. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stared at the wall as a million thoughts flashed across her enhanced mind.

Today was retribution day. Whether HYDRA, Red Room or Coulson pulled the trigger she really didn't care.

Yago just needed to _die_ today or she was going to lose her mind (or what she had left of it). The only reason she _hasn't_ was because she got her partner back and he was extremely distracting when he wanted to be. He was like her touchstone with her humanity and she knew that. She could accept that he had a stronger grip on his humanity than she did. He hasn't done _nearly_ the same level of deranged shit she has, no matter how much he says he understands her. He understands her better than anyone else? Sure. But he'll never _truly_ understand what she's been through.

No one will _ever_ understand what she's been through.

"How does your nose feel?" she asked without turning around or even moving a muscle. There was a moment of silence before she heard him grunt unintelligibly.

"It's not actually broken," he muttered, a bit put out that she caught him trying to sneak up on her. She smiled wryly as she continued to stare at the wall. She felt his sniper stare burning into the back of her head and answered the question he was too prideful to ask.

"It's the shift in the air that gave you away. Most people can't feel that so you will be fine in 99 percent of scenarios. You didn't make a sound though, so don't worry," she said calmly. He stopped bothering to be silent at all and nosily shuffled around the bed to her side - she could feel his irritation in just how he moved. It was kind of amusing.

"Shifting in the air. That is a first," he grumbled as he took a seat beside her while fully dressed in his SHIELD uniform. He was sitting far too close to pass as anything remotely professional but she didn't push him away yet. She felt him place her own suit silently in her lap. It was things like that which told her he thought about her way too much.

"Were you listening?" she asked, even if she knew the answer already.

"Yes," he answered honestly. She was silent for several moments before she spoke.

"He has to die Barton," she said in a steady voice - but he could hear the slight hint of desperation in her tone. She _needs_ him to be dead. She felt a strong rough hand grasp her bare skinned knee and squeeze. She never liked direct human contact - but _his_ contact was grounding. It allowed her to breathe.

"Someone will kill him today, don't worry," he said evenly. They sat together for a minute, just breathing in the other's presence before she picked up her uniform and stood up. He didn't watch her go because they needed to shift back into Hawkeye and Black Widow after letting themselves go too much last night. Last night was a memory of her he was going to hold on to for the rest of his _life_. Natasha doesn't drop her walls often - not at all. Memories of her were even _more_ precious now that he knows how it felt to go without them.

_She_ was precious to him - point blank.

"We're on probation Natasha. Whatever you do - don't be the one who pulls the trigger," Clint said carefully. He heard her pause behind him and then the next thing he knew there was a hand digging into his scalp and tightly grabbing his short hair until he winced. She was claiming him as hers.

"I won't do it," she said carefully.

_As long as you give me a reason why I shouldn't._

.

.

.

.

.

.

Less than 3 minutes later Natasha was suited and equipped with all her favourite knives and guns and ready to get moving. When she stepped out of her room she found him leaning against the wall beside their front door…which had seen better days no thanks to her.

"Ready?" he asked cautiously. He was wearing sunglasses today because his eyes were still sensitized by the damn drugs SHIELD pumped him with. If they didn't return to normal soon he was going to go _rage_ at the doctors in medical and scare the shit out of them by pointing an arrow at their throats until they fixed the problem or pissed their pants. His eyes were his most important tool.

"Yeah," she said simply as she walked across the room and stopped in front of him. She couldn't see his eyes so she didn't anticipate when he kissed two of his fingers before he pressed them against her lips. She blinked, but didn't move away from his warm hand. He dropped his hand just as fast and flashed her his sharp boyish grin.

"Let's go," he said calmly before he turned around and _tried_ to turn the door knob - if it hadn't just come right off in his tight grasp and caused the rest of the lock to just crash to the floor in a dusty pile of rubble. He stared at the mess for a few seconds and heard her cough awkwardly from behind him.

Their door was _clearly_ not Black Widow proof.

"We really need to fix this," he muttered as he tossed the doorknob to the side and shoved the broken door open. He thankfully didn't say anything else to incur her wrath.

"Sorry," she muttered reluctantly as she followed him down the hall. She glanced back at the broken door and missed the smug and _extremely_ self-satisfied smirk that pulled at the edge of his mouth. People wonder how he could possibly keep his male pride alive with a fiercely independent and strong female partner like her always kicking his ass - but he had _plenty_ of material to fuel his massive pride.

It wasn't _entirely_ her fault she had lost her cool and shot the thing dead.

He was the reason she had reached that breaking point at all. He deserved to feel smug.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

40 minutes later the two SHIELD agents were walking into a busy SHIELD control center situated in the actual real building above the prison compound. Agents were busily running around doing their base duties at an efficient pace. But the second they all noticed the two notorious SHIELD-employed assassins standing at the entrance, the hustle and bustle instantly ceased as everyone _stared_ at them. Natasha and Clint both warily waited to see what the agents would do. Then a brave dark skinned African American senior agent was the first to get her mouth working and pointed them down the hall.

"Agent Coulson said to meet in room 114," she said taking a deep steady breath and meeting _both_ their eyes dead on. Clint looked impressed when she didn't flinch as she locked eyes with the Black Widow.

She was brave. She'll go up the ranks fast. The rest were cowards.

"Thanks," Clint said with genuine feeling before he promptly gave his partner a look that said -_please for the sake of my sanity start walking you scary Russian_. Natasha stared back at him for several seconds before she calmly spun around and stalked down the hall with her boots hitting the stone floor in rhythmic thumps. She heard him sigh in relief as he followed after her.

_Thump_.

She was pretty sure one of the analysts behind them just fainted in terror.

Natasha causally glanced over her shoulder as they rounded the corner and watched the tension _skyrocket_ in the smaller control room as they all froze again in panic. When she lost sight of all the alarmed looking agents she felt a satisfied feeling settle over her.

A healthy dose of fear was good. They all thought she was going _soft_ after working for SHIELD for nearly a year. They were looking at her like they did back when she was first brought in - abate in cuffs herself. Now it was worse - she was walking around without any visible restraints and it was _terrifying _them. Natasha laughed silently in her head. Anyone who knew _anything_ about her threat level would know that cuffs were useless against her.

If only they knew that agent Barton was the _only_ restraint that would ever work on her.

"You know, they would probably piss themselves if they knew that you actually _enjoy_ scaring the shit out of them," he muttered as he searched the room numbers for the meeting room Coulson told them to meet in. Natasha simply shrugged. She wasn't even surprised that he knew what she was thinking.

"Next time I'll _smile_ at them - that should cause a few decent heart attacks," she said a bit too sadistically for his liking. Clint sighed as he stopped in front of their designated meeting room door. He put his hand on the doorknob and felt it give.

"You're an _evil_ Russian," Clint muttered as he held the door open for her. Natasha debated on whether or not she should continue her personal goal to be difficult to all things chivalrous, but that debate promptly went out the window when he gently pushed her forward into the room - and she found herself actually letting him. When they both glanced around the small conference room they found two familiar CIA agents sitting on opposite sides of the table while _glaring_ at each other.

Who _knew_ what their problem was?

"So _you're_ the two external hotshots who forced us to wake up at an ungodly hour this fine cloudy New York morning," Clint said dryly, just to make sure they caught their attention before any personal heated words started flying that they might not want an audience to hear. Dmitri instantly glanced over and looked like he was about to respond with a sharp nasty retort, but he tensed when he caught sight of the two SHIELD agents that threw his life into a chaotic tangled mess over the last few days. He narrowed his eyes as he took them in.

There was something off about them.

"You look…_different_," Dmitri said cautiously. Clint blinked - damn the man barely knew him for a couple of hours and he could tell there was something off. He felt Natasha shift beside him and wondered what she was thinking.

"I thought I didn't look different Natasha?" Clint said guardedly under his breath to his partner. She sharp shook her head.

"You don't. But do you remember what you said that made us all want to kill you?" she asked plainly. Clint instantly winced. Oh…right. He had practically _harassed_ them after accidentally discovering their extremely intimate relationship. And then to make matters worse, for some stupid idiotic reason he dragged _Natasha_ (of _all_ people) into it which nearly resulted in her murdering him before they even got the _chance_ to get his memories back. Someone really should have put a muzzle on his face when he was 20.

Damage control time.

"Right…well for what it's worth, sorry about my run away mouth from a couple of days ago…," Clint said formally while actually looking _genuinely_ apologetic. Kate and Dmitri both _stared_ at him.

_What happened?_

"What did you _do_ to him Romanoff?" Dmitri asked steadily in barely concealed alarm. They dropped off a childish reckless asshole at his base and now he came back looking like he just went through reformatory military school. His eyes were sharper, his back was straighter and his deadly aura held a lot more darkness, but a lot more control as well. The way he stood beside his partner held far more respect than it did before and sent the clear message that he would instantly end anyone who attacked her. What the hell did she do to him _indeed_.

Cognitive recalibration anyone?

Clint opened his mouth to tell them that they fixed his amnesia but paused when his partner raised her hand to silence him. He wondered where she wanted to go with this, but remained silent as he watched her take over.

"Why? What do you think is wrong with him?" she asked carefully. Kate looked severely bemused.

"He's being _polite_," Kate said as she eyed him suspiciously. Clint snorted and took off his sunglasses and wiped them clean on his uniform.

"I'm not polite Kitty cat - I'm just not being a _complete_ utterly childish asshole who has no tact. Which I honestly lacked a couple days ago, so I apologize again for some of the uncalled for things I said," he said in a matter-of-fact way before he blew on the lenses of his sunglasses. He continued before Kate could even get an angry word in. "But don't expect candies and roses on date night Katie, because I'm still a perfectly content ass thank you very much," he said simply before he stuffed the sunglasses into his pocket. He says a lot of mean sarcastic things to people and doesn't give two shits if they are offended or not - but he doesn't bother another pair of partners about the nature of their partnership because he doesn't want anyone doing that to _him_.

He had an odd sense of justice in his head.

He glanced back up at the two CIA agents and found them staring at him with matching expressions stuck between being hostile and utter confusion.

"Where do you _find_ people like him Romanoff?" Dmitri asked as he finally tore his eyes away from the utterly confusing archer and gave Natasha a disbelieving look. Natasha shrugged. She honestly liked him like this. _This_ Barton can keep up with her.

"Trust me - he's the better package deal," she said simply. Dmitri and Kate didn't look convinced.

Clint couldn't care _less_ what they thought.

Natasha _liked_ him. That was all that mattered. It was all that ever mattered.

"See? She approves," Clint said smugly but with a hint of relief in his eyes. He was _glad_ she approved. He was about continue when his phone started ringing in his back pocket. He promptly pulled it out and flipped it open.

"Where the hell are you Coulson? _You're_ the one who woke us up for this way too early shitshow!" Clint muttered as he walked across the room to hear his handler better. They all watched him move away and Natasha would have been fine to just wait in silence - but _clearly_ Dmitri wasn't the silent waiting type.

"You look happier," Dmitri said quietly. Natasha didn't even blink. She refused to be questioned by a man who was stripped of everything he was; starting from his face, his voice, his personality, his body and then reprogrammed into a completely different person.

"Happiness, is the world's greatest lie agent Braginksi," Natasha said with a perfectly blank poker face. The pursuit of happiness was a pointless goal. Dmitri gave her a single nod and an impressed look.

"You're really, really good - I'd _honestly_ believe you were a cold emotionless machine if I didn't see how desperately you wanted to fix him a couple days ago. This coldness is you being happy," he said calmly without being phased by her professional aloofness. Natasha stared at him for another couple of seconds before she leveled him one _severe_ warning look - and then she was all calm lines and the picture of professional impassivity again.

She'd scare the shit out of any military General any day.

"You're delusion," she said simply before turning away from him and ending the unwanted scrutiny. He was hitting way too many correct points for her to be comfortable.

"You're a good liar," he said fondly. Natasha felt like hitting him.

"You are going to get _shot_," she said point blank. A great big grin spread across his face. Oh Katie wouldn't like that - even though she was pointedly staring out the window and ignoring him right now.

She was mad at him - _again_.

"I think I just hit a nerve," Dmitri said in amusement. He was sadly cut off by an archer.

"Coulson is downstairs waiting in the observation room. We're ready to go when you are," Clint steadily as he ended the call. Dmitri finally stopped antagonizing the dangerous Russian assassin that could kill him with her pinky and walked over towards her partner.

"Sure thing. And by the way, I like you better like this too buddy," Dmitri said as he patted the archer on the shoulder as he passed him. Clint blinked - well that was unexpected. Kate was right behind him with the usual hostile look on her face. That…was _not_ unexpected unfortunately. She will _never_ forget how he basically kidnapped her in Japan while her partner nearly died in the crossfire. She only had that look when she was looking at Barton really.

"I still hate your damn _guts_," Kate hissed as she roughly shoved his shoulder as she brushed passed him. Clint glanced back at his own redheaded partner and grinned at her.

"I think she likes me," Clint said with a cheerful look. Natasha glanced over his shoulder at the pissed CIA agent and glanced back at him with a bored expression.

Yeah right.

"Sure she does," Natasha said with a sigh as she walked out the door. Clint shook his head.

"No, I mean it. Just look at the way she moves her hands - she _knows_ how to use a bow. I'll challenge her to an archery match one day. You'll _see _Tasha," he whispered with barely concealed anticipation as he followed behind her. Natasha sighed but let him fantasize about his dream skilled marksman match. It was one of the few things he and Natasha didn't bond over. However, neither of them minded. It was actually a _good_ thing Natasha didn't specialize in archery or sniping, because if she _did_ they would probably kill themselves trying to best the other (not that they don't already do that in everything else).

She liked shotguns and knives, while he liked bows and riffles and it _worked_.

If he wanted to go fanboy over his little bow and arrows with another archer he could go right ahead. If said female archer couldn't stand the _sight_ of him and was probably already infatuated with her _own_ partner…

Well…Natasha was completely okay with that. He needed to _stop_ gushing about his preferred weapon at her and go bug someone else about his love for it or one day she was going to accidentally _step_ on Josie.

That would be the day Clint Barton would cry like a baby.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Yes this chapter wasn't as dark as you think it would be….but that is because I cut the nice part from the nasty dark bloody part. **

**Somehow….SOMEONE is going to kill Yago next chapter right? **

**Because honestly everyone wants to kill him at this point. **

**Clint, Natasha, Coulson, Dmitri, (Kate wants to but never will because she hates killing people), Hill and Fury want him dead too but they are not here right now, HYDRA and probably everyone else at SHIELD. **

**So…who is going to kill him?**


	115. Chapter 115

**I Dare You **

**A/N: Well what can I say?**

**WARNING: Death. **

**That would be all. Continue. **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 115 **

The second all 4 of them got off the heavy duty elevator they could feel the weight of all the stares from the locked up SHIELD prisoners trapped in their designated rooms as they walked down the bright white hallway. Some of the windows were blacked out with large screen protectors today - including the only cell they were all interested in.

"I'm going in with you or you're not going in at _all_," Clint heard Kate hiss under her breath behind him. He paused.

So _that_ was what they were silently glaring about upstairs.

"I said _no_," Dmitri hissed back. Clint could practically _feel_ the angry vibes coming off the spit fire CIA agent that he rather liked. She reminded him of himself really.

"And I said fuck _you asshole_," she spat. Clint glanced at _his_ partner but she showed no recognition that she was hearing this intensely hushed argument happening two feet behind them.

Oh but he _knew_ she was listening to every word. If _he_ could hear their words then she could hear them breathing no matter how quite they tried to be.

Clint glanced ahead of them and finally saw Coulson waiting for them at the end of the hall with a serious foreboding look on his face. They all stopped in front of him with matching reserved expressions. Coulson look a deep breath and tightened his grip on his tablet. Clint did a quick scan of his suit and located the loaded gun in his coat pocket.

His handler meant business- serious business.

"When all of this is over - you're going to sit down and tell me how you all met and why it wasn't in the Japan mission report," Coulson said steadily staring _his_ agents down. Clint and Natasha had the decency to look elsewhere as they got stared down by their unimpressed handler.

They had all made a pact in Japan not to tell anyone they crossed paths. That was kind of dead now.

"To be fair we didn't tell our people either," Dmitri said warily from behind them. Clint smiled wryly - he rather liked them. They were like government rebels. Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose. God damn secretive agents will be the death of him.

"Do we need to have more words?" Coulson asked his agents with a sharp look. Clint shifted from one foot to the other while Natasha remained still as a statue as they both held direct eye contact with their handler. However, she was better at withstanding intense scrutiny then he was.

"Not particularly," Clint said evasively. Coulson's lips thinned into a dead flat line and he did _not_ look impressed. He finally looked away from the two assassins and drilled holes into the equally stiff outsiders. He would deal with his own _later_.

Ouch.

"Are you _both_ going in?" he asked steadily. Kate and Dmitri both stared at him with frighteningly different expressions. One looked like he was going to say hell no while the other looked like she was going to knock her partner out with the back of her gun.

"_Yes_," Kate said tightly as she swiftly cut off her partner before he could say anything. Dmitri's nostrils flared in frustration. Coulson raised an eyebrow but handed them their com links.

They had _issues_.

Thank _god_ it was not his job to make sure they worked things out in the end. One volatile pair of assassins was more than enough for him.

"Then by all means - he's all yours. _When I say go_. Alright?" Coulson said glancing back and forth between the two CIA agents.

They both nodded stiffly and stuck the com links into their ears. Coulson promptly glanced back at his two agents.

"Good. You two - in observation. _Now_," Coulson ordered evenly. Clint and Natasha both stared at his _don't you dare fuck with me today_ expression for a full 5 seconds.

He was a seriously scary authority figure when he wanted to be.

"Why do I feel like we are here as part of our punishment?" Clint grumbled as he finally tore his eyes away from their intense handler and walked into the room. Natasha was silent and didn't say a single word as she followed behind him. She actually hasn't said a thing since they got off the elevator. He watched Coulson set up the room for the last interrogation of Yago's life and glanced at her as she took a seat and stared at all the controls in front of her. There was something seriously wrong here. Natasha was naturally quiet when it came game time - but this silence was different. This silence was the one where she was screaming something on the inside, and even if he couldn't hear what she was saying her body language was _begging_ him to understand what she could not say in words. These were the times when he knew he has to read her. She stiffened when a warm hand rested on her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly standing behind her as he squeezed her shoulder. Clint was thankful that Coulson was keeping himself busy and tactful ignoring them while he assessed his partner. Natasha stopped breathing and seriously considered his question.

_Was she okay?_

When her eyes stared through the window in front of her and locked with a pair of black ores she wanted nothing more than to watch the life fade from she knew her answer to his serious question.

"_No_," she said rigidly. Clint inhaled a steady breath. At least she was honest with him. That was more than he could say about her a few months ago. A few months ago she would just shut him out and deal with it on her own. Now, she lets him feel the tension running through her body as he placed two fingers against her neck and felt her racing pulse. That was odd though because Natasha doesn't react to simple interrogations like this. Clint can't read minds however so he doesn't know what he is missing.

Because he is missing something big.

"Do you want to be here?" he asked carefully. Whatever answer she gave he would accept and deal with it accordingly. When she went rigid under his hand he knew her answer.

"Yes," she said tightly through gritted teeth. She wasn't going to leave. She _had_ to be here. She _needed_ to be here. The reason she is (mostly) honest with him, the reason she lets him in, the reason she drops some of her walls for him - is because he _understands _why she is here and he stands by her decisions.

But the reason why she _needs_ him is because he won't take her bullshit either and will drag her ass out of there when he knows she had enough.

"Let me know when you hit the point when you can't sit here anymore," he said carefully before he took a seat beside her and resigned himself to give half his attention to what was going to happen on the other side of the window and half his attention to her. She nodded stiffly and placed one of the three headphones over her ears. This is why she needed him with all his memories intact. _This_ Barton knew she had limits. She didn't freak out solely because she lost his companionship (though she did slightly), the majority of the reason was because she lost her touchstone and the person who could tell when enough was enough. Control was important. Barton was a key part of her control system.

But…if Natasha needs someone like Clint to keep her focused and under tight control, what happened during all those years when she didn't have him?

Natasha closed her eyes and _breathed_ through the strong wave of bloody memories that flooded her mind. The familiar warm hand on her knee helped keep her from drowning in her own head.

She killed a _lot_ of people she didn't mean to, people who weren't her targets, people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time, collateral damage, fighting arenas that turned into bloodbaths, flirty but innocent men who tried to touch her when she was having a bad day and her control was in pieces, the early days when her enhancer's sadistic side effects turned the rational side of her brain off and she woke up in a room flooded with blood and full of over 30 dead bodies and a single knife in her hand with no recollection of what she did - and the Red Room just _didn't_ care what that did to her sanity. A good killer was a killer regardless of her mental state right? If she died they could just as easily train another girl just like her right? She was just a weapon and weapons don't have feelings right?

Wrong.

Because if she was just a weapon she wouldn't be haunted by the kills she didn't mean to do. A weapon doesn't care who its target is. A weapon doesn't flinch when a body hits the floor. A weapon doesn't feel a soul sucking feeling of dread when it fires a bullet into a someone and doesn't remember doing it. A weapon doesn't stand over a small bleeding body and stare at its shooting barrel and think -

_I didn't mean to. _

_That's_ where her intense guilt comes from. Not from her real assassinations, but from the moments when she lost her hard fought control.

This is why Natasha _hates_ being out of control. This is why she needs her partner.

They both zoned out when Coulson started the countdown.

"Ready in 3," Coulson's calm and steady voice starting counting into the line that everyone was linked onto. Clint and Natasha both stared down the still breathing psychopath who had singlehandedly infiltrated SHIELD, kidnapping their Director, killed over 50 SHIELD agents, blew up his base in Romania, genetically engineered a virus that nearly killed them both, injected Natasha with a drug that forced her to relive some of her worst nightmarish memories, fatally shot her dead and caused the one person she needed in her life to forget her.

That is enough to drive _any_ assassin worth their bullets bat shit insane with fury.

But Barton remembers her now - and they are now stronger than they were before Romania. Their partnership had less holes in it now than it did before. They are closer now than they were before. They _both_ understand what it is going to feel like to lose each other. They will fight even harder to make sure that never happens again - to make sure Romania _doesn't_ happen again.

Vasil Yago was one target they were _never_ going to forget.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

_"…2,1 - go. You're both clear,"_ Coulson's voice rang in the two CIA agents' ears and Dmitri promptly yanked the prison room door open and walked in with his partner hot on his heels. Kate promptly melted against the wall while two practically identical men stared each other _down_. From their eyes, to their face, to their body, to the way they both held themselves.

They were physically identically.

They were mentally _completely_ distinct.

It was the freakiest freak moment of Dmitri's life.

"Do you know who I am?" Dmitri asked guardedly. A scary terrifying grin spread across the face of the man who had _his_ face but was nowhere near the same person as him.

It was the first time in his life Dmitri wanted to punch himself.

"Dmitri. I didn't know I would get to meet you before someone manned up and finally shot me," Yago said with a twisted smirk. Dmitri's hands curled into fists as he glared at his disgusting lookalike. He can't _believe_ HYDRA tried to turn him into this madman.

Everything about Yago breathed insanity.

"I'd be the one to gladly shoot you - but that is not my job," Dmitri said steadily. He sounded like a professional - but in reality he was just sprouting bullshit. The only reason he didn't take out his own gun and just _shoot_ this bastard dead was because his partner was here to make sure he didn't do _exactly_ that.

She knew him _far_ too well.

Sometimes it really irked him how much she cared about his hit count. Men like Yago just deserved his rarely used bullets so _badly_ it made him twitch maddeningly. Yago suddenly glanced behind him and Dmitri stiffened and promptly blocked the bastard's view of his partner with his own body- but he had noticed her anyway.

"I see you brought a pretty friend," Yago whispered with a sick disgusting leer at her. It made Dmitri's skin to crawl and made him want to grab his partner and _drag_ her out of this prison and never look back.

But he didn't do that because he needed closure. Also because Coulson asked him to figure out if HYDRA was still running experiments on other people like him and if Yago knew about them.

"She's not important. I'm the one you're going to talk to," Dmitri said warningly. _Please don't say anything Kate, please don't say anything. _

She didn't say a word.

Dmitri breathed a bit easier. He didn't want this bastard to hear her voice - it was one of the key thing he loved about her the most. And as much as it killed him inside he knew if _he_ liked it then this bastard would too.

It was one gigantic mindfuck.

Yago suddenly tilted his head to the side and grinned trying to get another look at her from around the imposing mirror image of himself glaring daggers at him.

"You know it's nice to know I'm handsome enough to get someone so petite and pretty like her to fall in love with me. Tell me Dmitri - is she good in bed? Do you make her scream in ecstasy? Do you satisfy her?" Yago asked with another dirty leer. It _pained_ Dmitri to see that disturbing look on his own face he sees in the mirror every day. He knew it hurt her too, but he would _never_ look at Kate like that.

"You didn't get her. _I'm not you_," Dmitri hissed. Yago chuckled darkly.

"But you _are_ - you're just in denial," Yago whispered. The next thing he knew there was an angry identical version of himself grabbing him by his collar and shouting in his face.

"Fuck you! Just fuck you and your fucked up memories! I don't even know who I _am_ because of you!" Dmitri shouted as he shook the bastard back and forth in blinding anger. Yago just laughed.

"I'm not the one who did this to you Dmitri. All I did was offer my valuable DNA. It's HYDRA you have a bone to pick with," Yago said calmly. Dmitri's eyes flashed.

"How many other people have they done this to? How many?" Dmitri demanded. Yago shrugged.

"30 or 40. I don't know for certain - but you were the most successful I heard. You were one of the few that actually survived all the operations. Most of the experiments died. Most of them went insane from the memory transplanting. Most of them were not strong enough to handle the stress of being reborn. You were strong, but they just couldn't get _one_ thing right no matter how hard they tried," Yago said regretfully. Dmitri froze as his heart rate sped up.

_No_.

"What the fuck is that? What the hell went wrong with me?" Dmitri growled fiercely. God he hoped he wasn't dying. He hoped they hadn't irreparably damaged him somehow. He hoped that whatever was wrong with him wouldn't hurt Kate. Yago just shook his head sadly.

"You didn't keep my lovely personality - they couldn't make that one stick," Yago said with a regretful sigh. And then all Dmitri saw was red before he _punched_ him and _punched_ him and _punched_ him again. Yago just took it with a bloody smirk - it takes a _lot_ more than punching to get him to scream.

In the last two months only the Black Widow managed to make him scream - but she didn't finish what she started. What a shame.

"You! Are! An! _ASSHOLE_!" Dmitri bellowed as he pulled his arm back and then swung his fist into the bastard's face just at the right angle before he heard a sickening _crack_ and he knew he just broke the bastard's nose. He would have kept going if it wasn't for the sharp interruption.

"That's _enough_ Dmitri," Kate's clear cut and crisp voice rang through the prison room. Dmitri and Yago both went still as her voice echoed in their ears. It was like honey to them both. Yago grinned at Dmitri and he glared right back.

"Oh she's _lovely_. I see why you like her," Yago whispered. Dmitri was about to land one last hit when he paused as he saw the bastard suddenly turn extremely pale and then he started coughing. When he started coughing up large blotches of blood he knew something was up. When the bastard started bleeding out of his ears and his eyes he knew whatever was going to happen - it wasn't going to be pretty.

"What the _hell_?" Dmitri yelled in alarm as he promptly let go of the bleeding criminal before any of his blood got on him.

"Get _away_ from him Dmitri," Kate said as she promptly grabbed her partner by the back of his shirt and dragged him away from the spasming body that was thankfully still strapped to the chair.

"Guys - what the _hell_ is happening to him?" Dmitri shouted into his com link as he stared at a mirror image of himself dying in front of him.

This was going to haunt him for life.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The air on the observation room was dead silent for all of 3 seconds.

"Get them out of there _now_ Barton," Coulson ordered tightly holding onto the controls in his hands. Clint was out of his seat, throwing his headphones down onto the control desk and racing towards the door within seconds.

"On it Sir," Clint said stiffly before he ran out of the room with a tense expression on his face. Coulson stared at the horror show happening on the other side of the window. The target was literally starting to bleed from every pore in his skin and he was going to be dead from the blood loss within minutes - there was no saving him (not that anyone wanted to). However, this type of murder was illegal - even at SHIELD. Coulson's eyes hardened as he finally realized who he was left with.

Oh dear god please say _no_.

"_Natasha_...," he said quietly in a strained voice. He can't protect her from something like this. Natasha didn't even look away from the gruesome sight for even a second. She was _entranced_ by it - it was kind of disturbing to watch (for Coulson).

"I didn't do it - but bravo to whoever got to him first. I applaud their work," she said in a toneless voice. Coulson wasn't stupid - he knew she was satisfied as _hell_.

He didn't know if he could trust her right now.

"Can you prove it wasn't you?" he asked carefully. Natasha didn't even look worried as she watched her partner rush in there and roughly drag both CIA agents out of the room while they continued to stare at the dying man in alarm.

"Barton can testify that I never left our apartment. By the way, whatever poison that was introduction into Yago's system had to have been ingested at least 6 hours ago around 2 am," she said calmly. She had recognized the signs long before he started bleeding. Coulson was checking the prison room security camera's on his tablet before she was even done talking. She really wished she could take the credit, but she couldn't. She was literally with her partner for every single second of the last 12 hours.

"If he was asleep how would he know?" Coulson asked carefully as he scanned through hours of security footage with just Yago sitting all by himself.

He was clearly missing something.

Natasha finally lost her impassive look and shifted uncomfortably beside her handler.

"He'd know if I had left Coulson," she muttered without elaborating. If she even moved an _inch_ he would've known - let alone completely left their bed. They were wrapped around each other so tightly there was no _way_ she could have gotten out of his embrace - and at the time she hadn't even wanted to. At the very least, opening her door would've woke him up.

His silence meant Coulson understood.

Natasha suddenly tilted her head to the side as she noticed something twitch at the edge of Yago's bloody head. She knows what that was.

"3,2,1, _boom_," she said quietly before she calmly took off her headphones.

And then Yago's head promptly exploded.

_Boom_.

Coulson _flinched_ and instantly tore his own headphones off in pain from the booming sound.

Blood, brains and other unmentionables hit the window an inch from Natasha's face. She didn't even blink as the explosion echoed from the headphones sitting in her lap. It was a beautiful disaster. When she finally looked away she noticed the look on her handler's face.

Coulson was staring at her in utter _horror_.

Maybe she should show more of a reaction next time someone's head blew up.

"How the _hell_ did you know that was going to happen Romanoff?" Coulson asked in extreme alarm. That was _insanity_. Natasha calmly gave him a look. She was probably the only calm one in the entire building.

After the things she has seen in her dubious past this was child's play.

"I know which Red Room operative HYDRA hired to take out Yago," she said plainly as she tossed the headphones onto the table in front of her. If he even needed to ask her anymore. Coulson narrowed his eyes. Oh he knew too.

"That was a manual bomb - he must still be in the building," Coulson said evenly before he swiftly stood up and stalked out of the room to go alert security.

They both knew they would never catch him.

Natasha continued to calmly sit in the observation room all alone while she leaned back against her seat and stared at the extremely bloody scene in front of her.

It was a statement - not just a flashy hit.

"How much more time do I have left James?" Natasha asked quietly. She never forgot about their little talk before she left for Romania all those weeks ago. She would be a horrible spy and a _dead_ assassin if she forgot things like that.

"Not much longer," a deep voice suddenly grunted from behind her. Natasha didn't even flinch - she knew he was here from the second she walked into the room. If she sat there and let the assassination play out - she was never going to tell anyone. He was good - but she was getting a whole lot _better_.

They couldn't even predict who would win in a full out fight.

"HYDRA didn't hire you," she said simply. Barnes shook his head slowly.

"No," he said calmly. Natasha waited a few heartbeats before she asked her next question.

"Was that to scare me or was that a favour?" she asked steadily as she watched Yago's dark red blood drip down the window.

He was dead, dead. Like utterly dead. Dead as in reduced to a pile of broken body parts dead - just like she threatened 3 days ago.

"Take it as both," he muttered gruffly. He was her only friend and her executioner all wrapped in one. If it was possible their relationship was even _more_ complex than her relationship with Barton.

"If you're going to try and kill me - don't do it while he's around," Natasha said evenly. She heard him stiffen behind her. She still hasn't seen his face. If she turned around she knew he would vanish.

"He'll be collateral damage whether you want him to be or not. I know he won't leave - I've _met_ him," he said warningly. Natasha's eyes darkened.

"Then I'll make sure he's not around," she said steadily. Barnes scoffed.

"That's going to be difficult. From what I've seen he is practically attached to your hip Romanoff," he muttered. _He's your blind spot_. Her eyes steeled in determination.

"I'll manage," she said evenly. Manage as in, _she'd knock him out herself and drug him if she had to_. There was a brief silence between ex-partners before he broke the silence.

"Belova got enhanced today. She'll be official when she wakes up," he said carefully. _If_ she wakes up was left unsaid. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

That idiot.

"I really don't care. She just fucked her life over," Natasha said frankly as she casually placed her hands in her lap and nudges a knife strapped to her thigh. She heard him grit his teeth.

"You've done worst. You put a death warrant over your head Natasha," he said warningly. His warning was useless now though. Too much time had passed. They both knew she couldn't go back now even if she wanted to - which she didn't. Before Natasha could do anything with the knife in her hand they both heard the door beside her start to open and she finally glanced over her shoulder just in time to see a shadow shift behind her.

He had vanished.

Damn.

"What are you staring at Natasha?" Clint asked guardedly as he stood beside her. Natasha slowly tore her eyes away from the blank wall and locked eyes with her cautious partner. She tightly gripped the handle of the knife in her hand and steeled her eyes.

He'd be out of building in 30 seconds, driving down the highway without 3 minutes, onto a helicopter in 5 and out of the country and crossing international water borderlines in 10 minutes and it would not take him a second longer.

She didn't have enough time to slow him down, let alone take him out so she resigned herself to deal with her partner.

"Nothing. How are Bishop and Braginski doing?" she asked steadily. Clint glanced down at the knife held tightly in her hand and glanced back up at her with simmering anger he kept locked up for the time being.

He didn't look like he believed her for a second - but he played along for now. That was one of things she liked about him. He's not going to _ever_ shout at her while they were on base and within earshot of other agents. Haweye doesn't work like that. He deals with his private business in places no one can see.

She was _definitely_ his private business.

"They are…I actually can't say because they are having one of their silent deadly staring matches again in another room. I'm going to safely assume that they are shaken up a bit. We should talk to them before they leave for their mission though," he said carefully but made a point of searching her eyes for whatever she was not telling him.

She gave him nothing but an empty steady stare that she knew pissed him off like no tomorrow. She caught the tightening of his jaw and felt like sighing in defeat.

He was going _rage_ at her when they left the building. There was no way he believed that she didn't see that coming. Damn, she really didn't want to deal with that right now. A pissed Barton was a pain in her _ass._

"Okay," she said blankly. He suddenly moved and then in less than a second he was standing right in front of her. She stared at the wall as he reached down and uncurled her fingers from around her knife and slipped it out of her hand before placing it on the table beside them. She curled her hand back into a fist and didn't make a sound. They were silent for several tense minutes as they tried to decide what to say. She suddenly felt his anger shift into something else for a moment and held her breath. Finally he was the one to break the silence.

"Your people are seriously _fucked up_ Natasha," he whispered in a heavy tone full of silent dread. She finally looked away from the wall and stared at his chest which was blocking her view of the bloodbath on the other side of the observation window for a long moment. Agencies like SHIELD do not sanction kills like that. He was crowding her vision - but she didn't move back.

"I know," she said quietly. She is not the most fucked up former Red Room operative out there - she was probably one of the most sane. She likely had the most manageable sadistic streak out of all of them too. You wonder why she _wanted_ to leave in the first place. Carrying out messy bloody assassinations like that day in and day out would drive anyone insane. Clint continued to stare at her intensely and she continued to avoid direct eye contact. He didn't ask a single question and she didn't tell him anything in return.

But they both knew.

_Eventually they're going to come after us,_ hung unsaid in the stale air full of death between them.

This? This was just the beginning.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: When the Red Room finally comes to kill Natasha this story is going to literally explode with action and get a whole lot more interesting. Natasha will never make peace with her past until the Red Room is done and destroyed. **

**We finally got to see a **_**Barnes**_** assassination - the man who taught the Widow everything she knew. Now...he is what you call a sadistic serial killer. He is just messy! **

**SOMEONE FINALLY KILLED YAGO! HAZAH!**

**And bravo to the couple of people who guessed it would be James Barnes as his final assassinator. Coulson's Red Room warning gave it away. Sigh. BUT - Natasha let it happen. She saw it coming.  
**

**So...who is really responsible in the end?**

**Was…that a satisfying death?**

**I bet you miss my fluff now :P hehe. No more fluff because Barton is PISSED **_**OFF**_**.**

**When the famous patient Hawkeye gets pissed you know shit just got serious because he can handle a lot of shit from the Widow without ever losing his cool. She just royally screwed herself over in his eyes.  
**

**Clintasha feels killer guns are load...and ready to fire. Just like I said.  
**

**I smell…CLINTASHA FIGHT :D  
**


	116. Chapter 116

**I Dare You **

**A/N: Well…I must not tell lies (I'm a Harry Potter junkie after all)…but I think pissed Barton is sexy. Am I the only one? I like his sweet side and how he shows Natasha how much she means everything to him, sure we all do…but I like when he is righteously pissed off at the Widow and she knows she's in **_**deep**_** shit too. Especially when she deserves his rage (somewhat) - she is an utter BAMF and doesn't care about much. She doesn't give a rats ass about **_**why**_** her partner is angry…but she cares a tiny bit that he **_**is**_** angry at her at all - make sense?).**

**I KNOW I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE! (STINK EYE ALL AROUND YOU SUCKERS KNOW YOU LIKE IT :P)**

**Ahem. Let us begin.**

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**Chapter 116**

If you think SHIELD handles internal assassinations that were not sanctioned by them lightly - you would be dead _wrong_. The entire prison was on high alert and red lights were flashing as agents and security guards were rushing down the prison halls and checking every single cell as they searched for the intruder on level 99 that assassinated prisoner 106. The cell with Vasil Yago's dead remains was being heavily guarded as medical personnel were escorted downstairs to identify the body to be sure it was Yago and figure out what was the exact cause of death.

Though figuring out which poison was used was almost irrelevant considering the man visibly died by a bomb exploding in his head. They could even replay the event on security footage.

The paperwork for this incident will be a _nightmare_.

Upstairs the control room was utter madness.

"Sir, there was a security breech in air duct 34 on the south side 10 minutes ago!" one of the security agents said from her post. She froze as she felt a looming authoritative presence behind her. She was so screwed.

"And you alert me about this _now_ agent Gram?" agent Coulson asked with a steady but ominous tone that hinted at the true _height_ of his intense dissatisfaction with the security team at their prison. He was not the one who dealt with disciplinary actions. He was just a high ranking handler.

No, _Agent Hill_ will be having _words_ with them.

Agent Gram took a deep breath and just threw all her knowledge out there and hoped for the best.

"We had a blind spot, Sir. Someone looped our security footage to play the same footage twice about 20 minutes ago, Sir," the stressed agent said as she rapidly flew through the files on her computer and then just stopped and stared at the virus alert sitting on her computer screen. She felt her senior agent lean forward to get a closer look and she paled - if Coulson was known for violence she would have fainted. For the record she was still on the verge of fainting just from the type of professional punishment he can dish out without completely firing her.

"Are you trying to tell me you only saw this _now_ Agent Gram?" Coulson asked tensely. Agent gram nodded jerkily.

"I only caught it because a blocking signal just lifted off our systems agent Coulson," she said desperately trying to keep her professional cool before he sent her packing. She had not signed up for this amount of stress. Coulson was silent for several tense moments before he finally sighed and stopped intimidating the poor security agent.

"It's okay. It wasn't a normal threat. _Definitely not a normal threat_," he muttered under his breath as he turned away and started searching the rows of agents for someone in particular. If agent Gram slumped in her seat and started taking several quick breaths while running through every reason why she joined SHIELD in the first place, he tactfully pretended not to notice.

Poor girl. Coulson was not actually angry at her - he was more angry at _another_ female agent. One that would never cower under his stern eyes - in fact, that agent was the only one who would likely glare _back_ at him.

That Russian pain in his ass was currently nowhere in sight and who had a partner that was no better with his smart mouth.

Coulson was going to develop migraine at the rate _those_ two were going. They were going to drive him into early retirement if they kept this up.

At the moment Coulson was wondering just one thing - _why the hell was he in charge?_

"Where is Senior officer Roberts? He is the one who is in charge of this base!" Coulson said irritably pinching his nose. All the base agents around him instantly looked away guilty. His irritation instantly turned into suspicion.

"He stepped out to get some papers while you called that you were coming," one of the braver agents muttered from across the room.

Coulson stared.

The poor agent stared back while trying not to slump in his seat.

"I am _not_ a substitut- you know what? Forget that for now. I want everyone in this building crosschecked by security and I need 10 of you to go downstairs and confirm that we have every single prisoner still on base - _understood_?" Coulson said giving every last agent in the control room his _I mean business_ stare.

"Yes Sir!" 30 agents exclaimed before they all dispersed into action to carry out his orders.

"Agent Gram," Coulson said carefully standing next the security agent he had originally been conversing with.

"Yes agent Coulson?" the tired looking but diligent agent responded. She stopped typing when a walkie talkie suddenly appeared in front of her face and blocked her view of her screen. She stared at it and thought - _oh god please no._

"You are in charge of the top to bottom search," he said evenly while leaving no room for refusal. Agent Gram nodded stiffly and accepted the communication device. Then she felt him instantly move away. She started at his retreating back in horror. _He was leaving her here to deal with this mess?_

"Where are you going Sir?" she asked trying to kept her voice from going an octave higher than normal as he promptly stalked away. Coulson's eyes steeled.

"To throw out the trash Agent Gram. To throw out the trash," he muttered darkly as he disappeared through the exit.

.

.

.

.

.

That was just inside the SHIELD prison. The real madness was happening _outside_ in the alley behind the entire building. Two CIA were currently standing by the back entrance and one of them was not doing so well.

"Dmitri are you okay…?" Kate asked carefully as she watched her partner brace his hands against the wall and take several harsh breaths like he wasn't getting enough oxygen into his lungs. He just watched himself _die_.

It was messing with his head.

"Just give me a second," Dmitri said as he took several more difficult looking breaths. Kate narrowed her eyes.

"You shouldn't have just lost it-," she started to said but he instantly cut her off with a sharp look.

"_He just started bleeding okay_?" he shouted, suddenly losing his temper. Kate instantly turned defensive.

"You punched the hell out of him - of course he was bleeding you gigantic _ass_!" she hissed. Dmitri fiercely shook his head and pushed himself away from the wall.

"That wasn't a bloody nose Kate!" Dmitri growled. Kate was about to start shouting back when they both heard the sound.

_BANG_!

The SHIELD prison building side entrance door banged open behind them and they both tensed.

"Both of you shut the hell up and listen," a dark ominous voice said from behind the two CIA operatives who really had no more reason to be here. They spun around and came face to face with a stone faced archer standing in the doorway. His expression said it all - _if anyone pisses me off any more then I already am there will be hell to pay._

Dmitri thankful just got to the point.

"What _happened _in there?" he said rigidly. Clint narrowed his eyes.

Oh a lot of things happened - not that he was going to give them many details.

"Someone just assassinated Yago - and no, it wasn't _your_ partner Bishop," Clint said with flashing eyes. Kate's eyes shifted back and forth between Agent Barton and his ice cold partner standing behind him a little off to his left. Natasha was staring at the wall but felt the eyes on her without much effort.

"Don't look at me like that Bishop. _I_ didn't kill him," Natasha said carefully before shooting her a partner a pointed look.

He ignored her.

Ouch.

"Sounds…complicated," Kate said warily, while observing the tension radiating off the two assassins. Clint took a deep breath and calm expression finally took over his face - he learned that trick from _her_. Too much time and you learn way to much about someone - sometimes more then you wanted to know in the first place. Clint finally focused his attention on the two stiff CIA agents and spoke.

"Are you two okay?" he asked cautiously as he breathed through his anger and managed to look genuinely concerned. They both shifted away from him either way - he wasn't doing a very good job of masking the dark vibes coming off of him. Actually _everyone_ had given him a good 5 meter radius of personal space in the last 5 minutes - everyone except his partner. She didn't give a shit about his dark aura and just stood beside him like usual. She was a strategist. If she made a run for it while they were inside he'd stop her no problem. If she gave him the slip _outside_…her chances exponentially went up.

So she waited like a good little spy.

"We're good. More than good actually we have a flight to catch in 75 minutes so we'll be leaving right now," Kate said as she grabbed Dmitri by the back of his shirt and promptly shoved him down the alley. Dmitri scowled and dug his boots into the ground.

"Wait I still want to know what-_mpfff!_" he tried to say as she literally dragging him by his collar, but he was silenced when a firm hand clammed over his mouth and roughly squeezed. Clint raised a steady eyebrow as Kate Bishop effectively manhandled a man that literally _just_ brutally beat the living crap out of a world class criminal.

Ah the perks of being someone's partner and love interest - you could get away with almost anything.

Almost.

"No you really _don't_ Dmitri," Kate said warningly in his ear before she glanced over her shoulder. "We'll see you two later. After…just _after_," Kate said warily eying their stiff postures before she inelegantly dragged her still protesting partner around the corner. That left two SHIELD partners well and truly _alone_.

_Silence_.

That was the _worst_ retreat these two assassins have ever seen in both their careers.

Clint finally sighed. He was so tired of all this shit.

"Coulson is going to want to see us before we leave," he muttered to her. Natasha _might_ have responded, but equally might have just given him the cold shoulder - either way she never got the chance to do either because the next thing Clint knew he was being shoved _right_ out the door.

"No he doesn't - _get out_," Coulson said flatly as he watched the poor archer stumble forward and nearly fall flat on his face. Clint sputtered unintelligently as he spun around to stare at his handler.

"What? I thought we have junior training to do for our proba-," Clint started to protested but cut himself off when his handler raised a hand. When Coulson levelled him with _the stare_ he knew they were done for.

"You will stop talking right now, turn around and _leave_. She's not coming _anywhere_ near my juniors today. Do you want to cover the medical bill? Do you?" Coulson asked warningly. Clint scoffed irritably.

"Seriously overreacting-," he started to argue but he got cut off _again_. What is it with angry agents and not letting anyone finish their sentences?

"_Get out _Barton. Fix your shit - and don't bring her back until you get that look off her face," Coulson said tensely gesturing towards Clint's left. Clint glanced at his dead silent partner who stood there watching them with a strikingly calm expression as she waited for them to finish up their "manly" spat.

"There is nothing on her face Coulson," Clint said flatly. Coulson narrowed his eyes. You can't fool the professional bullshiter police.

When Natasha looked _that_ type of freaky calm in a situation where _no _one felt calm you didn't wanted her _anywhere_ near you.

"Exactly - _fix it,"_ Coulson said threateningly before he slammed the metal door shut in his agents' faces and promptly locked them out. The card scanner flashed red and Clint knew without a shadow of a doubt that their SHIELD cards were not going to give them access to anything day.

They were officially _banned_ from SHIELD property until further notice. Oh the enormous amounts of trouble agent Barton gets into because of his Russian partner. It was bad enough he had to work with her - but he had the misfortune of having to go _home_ with her too. Clint wanted to curl up and die at the unfairness of it all.

This was just _torture_.

"Great. Now we officially just got suspended like a pair of hooligans and - _where are you going woman_?" Clint exclaimed incredulously as he finally glanced towards his left, only to find his partner spinning around and stalking away from him.

"Away," she said curtly as she kept speed walking out of the alley - _almost_ sprinting, but not quite. Clint nearly gaped at her - but he had more control of his expressions then that.

"You're going to _run away_ now? Are you serious?" Clint asked irritably as he swiftly followed after her. Natasha shot him a sharp deadly glare over her shoulder. He was the _only_ person on the entire planet who was stupid enough to follow her right now. _Everyone_ else promptly made themselves scarce - but apparently he never read the Dealing with Black Widows handbook.

"Not running," she pointed out as she continued her brisk pace with a single minded determination to get out of there as fast as possible - without running. She was speed walking - _not_ running. Clint _stared_ at her with a look that said _you are utter bullshit you coward_. Natasha refused to answer his stare.

The Black Widow doesn't run away - she retreats with _style_.

"We're not done here!" he said through gritted teeth. Natasha instantly whipped out her gun and pointed it at his face with a deadly stare.

Here we go again.

"But I'm done with you. Leave me _alone_ Barton," she said warningly shoving him back by pushing her gun into his face. Clint held his breath and glared back at her - she'd _never_ fire that thing at him. Never. He was right - she just used his split second pause to promptly stepped back and disappear around the corner.

Oh this woman drove him _mad_.

"You _knew_ Barnes was there!" he growled as he went after her again. Natasha angrily shoved her gun into her back pocket and clenched her teeth in frustration. She just really _didn't_ want to talk to him right now!

"You have _extraordinary_ insight Barton! Bravo!" she shouted sarcastically without turning around. Clint finally got fed up with her.

"Oh for the love of god Natasha, _stop_ walking away from me!" he growled from behind her before he roughly grabbed her by the forearms and shoved her into the alley wall. Natasha had fire in her eyes and would have just bashed her forehead into his face and knocked him out if he was anyone else. _Anyone_ else but him.

But he wasn't anyone else and that pissed her off.

"If you keep stopping me _I will make sure you can't follow_," she hissed through clenched teeth before she promptly grabbed _his_ backup pistol from his holster and shoved the barrel into his crotch. Clint promptly froze and inhaled a sharp breath as he stared at her dead in the eyes.

"Seriously Natasha - what is your problem?" he asked angrily while trying to shove the gun away from his most important manly parts. Natasha just shoved the gun harder against him and made him wince.

"Move or I will blow your balls off," she ordered steadily with flashing green eyes. Clint gritted his teeth and held his ground.

"What if I call your bluff?" he said guardedly, but held completely still - just in case she got trigger happy. This wasn't a kill shot after all.

He'd live…but he'd _really_ rather not go there.

"Then you lose a testicle," she said evenly before she clicked the safety off and put her finger on the trigger. Clint finally saw the honest desire to be left completely and utterly _alone_ echo in her sharp green eyes and finally backed away.

Doesn't mean he had to like it.

"Fine! Run for it! Where are you going to go anyway?" he asked angrily. He faltered when he saw her shoulders relax. She didn't want to shoot him.

Natasha didn't bother to answer at all. She just dropped his gun at his feet and spun around without looking back. She really was done with him. She couldn't stand to be around him for another second. If he started getting difficult she would thoroughly dissuade him.

Clint doesn't make the same mistake twice. She was being irrational - _again_.

"I'm not going to follow after you Natasha! As if I'm getting cuffed to washroom rod again you sick and twisted insane woman!" he shouted furiously. His words were uncalled for - but he was just so pissed she didn't _listen_ to him. She let the target get assassinated in a way _no one_ should be assassinated. Natasha just shook her head.

"Piss off Barton!" she shouted back when she was finally a good distance away from him.

He had _brilliant_ far sight and when she finally glance over her shoulder and flashed him the finger from 100 yards away all he wanted to do was to strangle her. He let her go and she still tried to piss him off?

Was that normal?

"_Fuck_ you Romanoff! Go get run over by a train and see if I care you asshole!" he shouted after her as she speedily increased the distance between them. She didn't dare look back a second time. He was pretty much shouting to himself now. There was no way she could hear him at this distance. He really didn't care. He didn't even want to see her _face_ right now. He felt his hands flex as he beat down the urge to punch the wall beside him and pretend it was her face. He promptly spun around and tore his eyes away from her slim figure and stormed down the street in the opposite direction.

"I hate Russians. I hate them all. I hate you vicious bipolar deranged sadistic Russians so god damn _much_," he growled darkly to himself. She was crazy. She was dangerous. She was unstable. He knew _all_ of that. He always knew. He would swear off Russians for life if it were possible.

But it's not. No matter what shape or form or how much he wanted to _shake_ that woman she was still a gigantic part of his fucked up life and that was never going to change because he wouldn't let anything change that. This changed _nothing_. They were partners and they would _always_ stay partners. Because she needed this partnership just as much as he did. Even if they wanted to kill each other half the time.

Is it possible to hate someone so much you want to bash their head into a wall and yet hold onto them because they're the only thing that makes you feel alive - both at the same time?

Yes, yes it is possible in _his_ fucked up head.

If that evil, evil Russian woman doesn't come back he was going to _flip his shit_. He'd give her a few hours to cool her ass - he needed those hours himself.

Because if he saw her again before he had some time to calm down by shooting at target boards with Josie tightly held in his grasp he thinks he might honestly shoot _her_.

Now he remembers why he hated women.

They were all insane.

God damn the women. God damn them _all_.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Aww...he just damned us all! Sigh. Natasha made Clint hate women. So sad. **

**She was bound to piss him off eventually. It's Clintasha. They get pissed by nature. **

**But after everything that happened I think she'll be the one to come back to angry and hurt Clint right? Right?**

**Well she better. Because he is not coming after her. Not this time. She must explain herself!**

**Oh poor Clnitasha tangled up in a fight. **


	117. Chapter 117

**I Dare You **

**A/N: TO BETTER UNDERSTAND THE FOLLOWING CONVERSATION:**

**Reread Chapter 65 - Hint of Clint's past**

**Reread Chapter 97 - Natasha's past **

**REFRESHERS! (You'll need them)**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 117 **

Most people would think Hawkeye sharpens his skills on the SHIELD base shooting range. Most people would think he loves to show off his killer skill. Most people would think he is an arrogance little shit that likes to look down at all the other field agents who had nowhere _near_ the skill he has.

Most people would be _wrong_.

Clint _hates_ the audience he always gets when he starts firing at his impossible speed and with his frightening accuracy. He hates the stares. He hates the whispering. He really, really hates the judging that always happens right after he is done sticking an arrow through every target board bull's eye in the room, mostly revolving about _how_ he acquired his remarkable deadly skill.

No one at SHIELD believed that he was a natural good shot right from the start - they think it was practice.

But he _was_.

He has been shooting arrows since he was 10 - but he never even _touched_ a riffle until he was 17 and enlisted in the U.S ground forces. The riffle and sniping took time to perfect. The bow and arrow was his calling - it was his mastery.

That's why, 7 hours after he watched his deadly partner stalk away from him with anger clouding his eyes he was still standing in an _completely_ empty rundown shooting range 3 streets down from their apartment. He was shooting countless arrows one after of the other into the target boards he lined up in front of him. He was shooting in a circle to create aimless patterns around the targets just so that he doesn't have to keep taking the arrows out of the center and to stop destroying the ones that he already put there by driving one arrow into the center of the other. He just wanted to _shoot_ something- it didn't matter if it was aimless firing. No one knew about this small abandoned looking warehouse sitting at the edge of the city. He never told anyone - not even her. He felt his eyes hardened. He didn't want to be anywhere that reminded him of _her_. Even though he was putting in an enormous amount of effort not to think about her - he was failing miserably.

_"__Fuck__ you Romanoff! Go get run over by a train and see if I care you asshole!"_

Clint flinched.

His arrow went off his desired mark by half a centimeter - that was a lot considering his skill.

Yeah, clearly he didn't really mean the shit he shouted after her - but he was so _angry_. He was _still_ angry on the surface - but underneath his anger he still missed her, he was still happy he remembered her, he was still thankful that she wasn't slowly killing herself anymore, he still _cared_ for her - but she was such a little _shit_ sometimes he felt like knocking her to the ground and slapping some sense into her.

Where was she anyway?

"I didn't plan for it to happen like that," a familiar steady voice said from above him. Clint didn't even stop shooting for a second. He was too well trained to react to the unexpected voice- but he suddenly felt like he could finally _breathe_ easier.

She came back.

He had been only _eighty_ percent sure she would come back within the next 12 hours. She could have come back tomorrow and he wouldn't have slept a wink. He doesn't think he can sleep without her anymore (and wasn't that a scary thought?). It was nice to watch her prove him right. It was nice to know she valued their partnership enough to fix things sooner rather than later.

That didn't mean he _liked_ her very much right now though.

"You're a fucking coward Romanoff," he said point blank as he watched his arrows fly across the room and land a perfect hit every single time. He felt her bristle at his harsh words - but he didn't care.

She _deserved_ them. She was an evil Russian woman after all. She was always such a sharp tongued bastard with him - but he could be a bastard too.

"I can shoot you from here you know," she called out warningly. Clint felt like snorting at her obvious defensive response. His partner was a bluffing machine.

Actually she _wasn't_. Natasha doesn't bluff about shooting anyone but _him_. Her insane hit count was proof of that. He doesn't even think SHIELD _has_ the full list of names of the people on her hit list. He doesn't think he even _wants_ to see it.

"I can shoot you too ya looney. You just got a shiny black shotgun - big deal," he shot back a little grumpily. Fighting with her was not his most favourite thing to do - but he wasn't going to let her walk all over him either. What she did was _wrong_. Dead wrong. He _knew_ it was wrong, but deep down he knew why she did it too. Clint felt the tension spike in his shoulders as he clenched his jaw in frustration.

He _hated_ taking sides. There _was_ no right side in a mess like this. He won't take her side unless she deserved to have him, and right now she _didn't_.

"I can use it as a club too if I wanted to knock you out from up here," Natasha muttered pathetically. Clint's expression grew bland.

She was so _charming_ - sometimes he wondered why he didn't just _swoon_ when he met her cold Russian ass in Germany. Oh right - because she was a cruel asshole. It took him a long time to see past that and see something he actually _liked_. _More than just like_ - a voice whispered at the edge of his mind.

He told that voice to _shut the hell up_ and go drown in the ocean.

"And I can use my bow as a boomerang and knock you _off_ the damn beam you're crouching on - where the hell are you going with this Romanoff?" Clint asked tiredly as he kept shooting his arrows without fail. He didn't have to look up to know that she was sitting right on top of him, while watching him shoot with terrifying accuracy. Her staring didn't bother him like anyone else's would have. Natasha was always silently watching him as they did missions. He had gotten used to her eyes on him - watching his back. But he couldn't stop the lingering anger filled thoughts from floating through his mind. If he redirected his aim in a split second he could shoot her down like a dead bird he'd cook for dinner. That was something that was never going to happen in reality. It was tempting to fire a warning shot into the ceiling in a more plausible scenario.

Was he still pissed?

_Definitely_. This woman drove him up a wall on a good day. She drove him _completely_ over the edge of insanity on a bad day.

But it was no longer hot white rage - it was a quiet simmering temper now. He was still angry with her - but he no longer felt the intense desire to murder the only woman that truly mattered to him. Alicia wasn't a woman - she was a little _girl_, so she doesn't count. He should go see her eventually - but he first had to fix things with his partner before someone died - _again_.

"I didn't know Barnes was there until I walked into the observation room," she suddenly said quietly. Clint just kept on firing but she could tell he was still listening by the way his speed went down from 4 shots a second to 1 shot every two seconds. He was still shooting out of stubbornness, but she had nearly 90% of his attention.

She still really _hated_ Josie. God damn that bow.

"Keep talking and then I'll decide whether to continue to be pissed or not," he said steadily as he kept his sharp eyes trained on his target boards. She didn't say anything back and he frowned slightly. He kept shooting though as he waited for her to decide where she wanted this conversation to go. She could be a bastard and leave without telling him what was going on in her twisted fucked up head while they were in the observation room or she could get her shit together and talk to him.

After a brief moment of silence he suddenly felt a small warm familiar hand rest against his back. His shoulders sagged as the exhaustion from his intense shooting workout finally hit him like a brick and he finally stopped shooting. He lowered his aching arms to his sides and stared at his glove covered hands wrapped around Josie. He breathed deep ragged breaths as he felt _her_ hand burn through his uniform - and that was when he knew he couldn't walk away from her a second time today. No matter how much she pissed him off he would never push her away indefinitely. Despite all her utter god damn _bullshit_ he still needed her so much. From the way she suddenly gripped the back of his shirt he knew she came back because she needed him too.

"If I say I'm sorry it would be lie," she muttered as she stood stiffly behind him. Clint sighed in resignation and shook his head as he walked away from her, causing his shirt to slip right out of her grasp. She watched him cross the room and place his most trusted weapon onto the table gently before he finally spoke.

"I don't want lies Natasha- I've never wanted lies from you," he said with the exhaustion clear in his tone. They spend so much of their time, breath and energy lying. He was sick of lies. No matter how harsh the truth was, he _always_ wanted the truth from her. He heard the footsteps she allowed him to hear and suddenly she was standing right behind him. She tired touching him on his back again and when he didn't move away, he heard her take a deep breath and finally start talking.

"I didn't plan to do anything. I knew Barnes was there when we walked in but Yago was already drugged hours before we got there. Everything that happened _would_ have happened no matter what I did - it would have just happened _sooner_ if Barnes figured out we knew he was there. If I made any move to alert you and Coulson he would have set off the bomb and leave instantly. At least Dmitri got his closure before everything went to shit," Natasha said hesitantly. She felt Clint's entire back stiffen under her tight grasp on his shirt - but he didn't push her away. He let her keep touching him.

Clint was silent for another couple of seconds as he absorbed the true depth of her words.

"You wanted the poison to take effect before Barnes blew him up," he said in defeat. Sometimes she really scared the _shit_ out of him. He felt her look away as she shifted behind him.

"I'm not above self analysis. I know it was selfish, but I can't say I'm sorry how he died Clint. I _can't_," she whispered painfully. He did so much harm to them. Forget the fact that he nearly managed to kill them both - he almost irrevocably _broke_ their entire partnership.

Clint slammed his eyes shut and _breathed as _her difficult words echoed in his mind. God, she made his life so damn hard.

"_Okay_. Okay, I understand he hurt you Tasha but-," he started to try and compromise, but she sharply cut him off.

"I don't _care_ what he did to me. He infected you with a fatal virus. He nearly shot you in the head. He gave you _amnesia_. He deserved what he got," she said darkly. Clint fiercely shook his head.

"_No_ Tasha. You _know_ that I hated him too but -_mmmrrrffffff_," he tried to reason with her again, but she just reached over his shoulder and covered his mouth with her hand to muffle his pointless words.

"Just stop talking Barton. You're not going to like what I have to say and my opinion is not going to change so just save your breath," she said tiredly leaning her forehead against his back. He finally felt himself snap from being away from her all day and he spun around to face her. Before he knew what he was doing he had her wrapped in his arms, her head pressed up against his chest and his face buried in her hair. It was familiar because they found themselves in that position often enough.

"Tasha. Tasha what am I going to _do_ with you?" he asked in defeat as he breathed her in. He never got tired of holding her - he hasn't had someone to hold…_ever_. He felt her scoff quietly against his chest.

"What do you _want_ me to do?" she muttered into his tactical suit. Clint took a sharp breath and held her tightly enough that she couldn't escape without breaking anything. She wouldn't _dare_ break anything important of his so she was trapped by restrictive choice. Clint's eyes steeled and he knew what he was going to say.

"You're going to lie to Coulson. You're going to say you're sorry and make sure he believes you _mean_ it," he said warningly into her hair. Natasha stiffened in his arms.

"You want me to lie?" she asked warily. That was a first. Clint's eyes darkened.

"Yes. Because SHIELD work is based on intention since a lot of shit goes down and sometimes agents do things they are not supposed to do. So you're going to lie this one time and you're going to promise me that you will tell me when the fucking threat is in the same room as us. For god's sake Natasha, that man wants to _kill_ you one day," he breathed out while trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice - but she heard it anyway.

"A lot of people want to kill me Clint," she said quietly leaning into him. _This_ Natasha was deceptively weak and fragile looking tucked safely in his arms - but Clint knew better. He knew she could switch on the Black Widow like a light and her soft side would be locked away until the danger had passed. Clint's eyes hardened and he instantly pulled back and cupped her cheeks, forcing her to stare back at his fiercely blue flashing eyes.

"But _I_ want you alive Natasha. I need you to stay alive and I'll do everything to make sure that happens," he vowed intensely. Natasha just stared back at him as he gently held her face between his two rough hands that can shoot without ever missing a single shot - but could never shoot _her_.

If someone tried to make him pull the trigger on her he would _always_ miss the kill shot - just like the first time they met.

"Funny how I was the one who got shot for you to keep _you_ alive," she said warily. Clint froze before he suddenly buried his face in her neck and _groaned_. How could he forget something like that?

"I'm still so _miffed_ about that," he muttered as he held onto her like she was going to vanish if he let her go. Natasha frowned.

"It was a head shot. I told you, you'd be dead if I didn't take the hit," she said evenly. She felt the tension spike in his body and tried to smooth him by tentatively running her hands up and down his back like he likes doing to her.

"I still don't like watching you die in front of me," he said guardedly. Natasha snorted.

"_Doing_ the dying is not fun either hot shot. It hurts like _shit_," she muttered. She felt his hand trail down her body, as if letting her know intimately where it was going before slipping under her shirt and grasping at the location where Yago's bullet entered her side. He grazed his thumb over the exact wound spot, but all he felt was smooth, soft Russian skin - no bruise, no scars, no visible reminded of how she almost died for him. There was nothing left except for both their shared memories.

"It's gone now. I don't keep the scars," she said quietly as he continued to stroke her skin reverently while lost in his own head.

"But I keep _all_ my scars," he said in an equally quiet voice. She heard the bitter undertone in his voice and tightly grabbed his wrist to stop his soothing but distracting motions. He stopped touching her instantly - she noticed, but she already knew he would never touch her in any way she didn't want. Her body did not belong to her for a long time - Barton helped cut the puppet strings off of her all those months ago. Now she owned her own skin and she was the sole person who decided who could or could not touch her.

Barton was the _only_ one she ever felt truly comfortable with touching her - even just average handshakes. Everyone else's touch _burned_. Targets were a necessity - but she still controlled those scenarios so she could deal with it. It was the _unexpected_ contact scenarios that unsettled her.

"I wish I had scars Barton," she said steadily before she pressed his frozen hand into her back so that he could still hold onto her. Clint's face instantly went stony even as he tightened his grip on her waist.

"Why?" he asked carefully. He hated his scars. His scars were half the reason women didn't stay the night - he _scared_ them. It was the reason why he never took off his shirt in front of anyone - _ever_. His scars were _ugly_ jagged reminders of all the times he lost a fight or almost did. Several of his scars were scary reminds of how he almost died. A few of them - he did to himself.

But Natasha was not the same as him - she didn't see scars the twisted dark way he saw them.

"Because then my body would remember what my mind is constantly made to forget. If they take the scars _and_ the memories away then the things I did never happened," she whispered in a faraway voice. Clint's eyes grew sad.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you Tasha," he whispered earnestly. Natasha went still as a rock. _What?_

"You don't even know what happened to me Barton - how can you be sorry?" she asked quietly. She never told him anything solid about her past. She doesn't share her past with _anyone_. Clint silently held her tighter and gently ran his hand through her soft hair.

"Because sometimes when you're lost in your head you look sad. Sometimes you have nightmares that scare you. Sometimes you go quiet and you get this haunted look in your eyes. Sometimes you tense up when there is no danger around - like someone is going to jump out and hurt you. It's _hard_ to watch Tasha - it's so hard to watch you go through that every single _day_," he said painfully holding her closer. It's so hard to watch her fight everything on her own. Natasha felt him breath unsteadily against her neck. He was shaken up by her painful past she never even _shared_.

_But he could feel it._ He could feel the weight of it. How she carries it around everywhere she goes. How because of their partnership he feels like he is carrying some of it too.

"Teach me," she said softly as she suddenly pulled away from him. Clint furrowed his brow as he let his arms fall to his sides as she slipped out of his unrestrictive embrace and walked around him.

"Teach you what?" he asked slowly in slight confusion as he turned to watch her go. Natasha glanced over her shoulder and gave him a reassuring genuine smile that took his breath away. Natasha's rare smiles always made his heart fill up and makes him feel like all the bad things that happened to them, all the nasty moments between them, all the fighting is worth it when she smiles for him.

Because he knows she has _never_ smiled for anyone else.

"Teach me how to fire an arrow - you asked me to remind you while you had amnesia," she said quietly picking up his bow and holding it out for him to take. Clint's head was reeling from the 180 degree turn in their conversation.

Natasha was always keeping him guessing. Always kept him on his toes. Always unpredictable.

He loved that about her, but sometimes…it was a pain in his ass.

Either way he cleared his throat before he started embarrassing himself. He then promptly flipped the bow around in her hand and pressed it back into her palm.

"If you want me to teach you, _you're_ going to be holding it," he said seriously before he walked across the room and started clearing away his arrows sticking out of one of the target boards.

"How long do you usually come down here for?" she asked as she held his bow as he worked in front of her. She was trying _really_ hard not to think about the bow's name. Right now it _had_ no name. If she thought about its name she would break it in half and he would cry.

It was no fun to watch a grown man cry (it was an _ugly_ sight - Barton was not a pretty crier - she saw it first hand after his nightmarish hallucinations about Japan and she _never_ wanted to see it again) and she _definitely_ didn't want to be the reason for it. Clint continued his business removing arrows like she wasn't contemplating murdering the love of his life behind him.

The number one reason she would never do it was because he trusted her to hold it. She has never seen _anyone_ else hold his bow as often as she does. He answered her question without any idea of what she was thinking.

"A few hours. Usually to blow off some steam. Today was an exception - I was here for almost 5 hours. Where did you go?" he asked over his shoulder as he pulled out the last of the arrows. He listened as she was quiet for a few seconds before she finally answered.

"I followed you," she said simply. Clint paused with several arrows sitting in the palm of his hand.

"_Well shit_," he muttered under his breath."What the hell was the show for then?" he asked in disbelief as he spun around to stare at her. Natasha shrugged.

"I just didn't want to talk to you until you cooled down," she said quietly. Clint sputtered unintelligibly.

"So you sat up there for 5 hours woman?" he asked incredulously as he pointed to the ceiling. Natasha suddenly looked extremely uncomfortable.

"Yes…?" she said hesitantly. She didn't see what the big deal was…how was she supposed to know when he calmed down? It was only logical that she tailed him to wherever he planned to be while she was _'away'_.

Someone should tell her that her logic was fucked up.

No one but Clint would have the balls to do it.

"Damn it Tasha, you're a hard woman to understand," Clint said as his shoulders finally sagged in defeat. He just gave up. First she leaves him in a whirl wind of tension with the threat of violently blowing off his balls and then she tells him she followed him around all day long like a damn puppy. He couldn't bother to figure out how her brain works anymore.

"Are you ready Barton?" she asked suddenly holding up his bow and waving it at him. Clint blinked out of his thoughts and walked over to her.

"Can I?" he asked quietly gesturing to her arms. She nodded cautiously. He looked her dead in the eye to confirm her consent before he glanced down and gently grabbed her elbows and moved her arms to set her into a proper shooting position. She let him grab her hips and move her into place in front of the target board, and if his hands lingered in certain places she didn't mention it. His hands remained in _respectful_ places, so she let him have his too long touches.

"You are one crazy chick - you know that?" he muttered in her ear as he fixed her posture. Natasha blinked.

"What's a 'chick'?" she asked slowly.

_Cricket…cricket…cricket…_

"You need American slangs lessons again. We'll get right on that," he said frankly as he stood beside her.

The depressing thing was that he _meant_ it too. Natasha's temper instantly flared.

"You are one annoying son of a _bitch_," she growled furiously shooting him a burning glare. Clint laughed out loud and nearly started crying from the hilariously annoyed scowl on her face.

She fired up so _fast_.

"I feel so proud - I taught you that one Tasha," he said pinching her cheek in a way every child on the planet has always hated. If he was anyone else she would have _bit_ his hand off. Instead she just huffed and swatted his hands away from her face.

"Get on with it Barton or I will use your bow as a batting ram and whack you over the head with it," she said warningly wielding his bow in a way that it should _never_ be handled. He instantly paled as he watched her in horror.

"Hey! Be gentle with Josie. _Gentle_ Tasha," he said making calming hand gestures towards her.

Natasha stared at him.

Her? _Gentle_?

Clint's face went blank.

"Just don't break her and I won't break _you_ - deal?" he said flatly. Natasha looked a lot more agreeable with that assassin covenant.

"Deal," she said firmly gripping the bow - but not too tightly to make him wince in fear for its life.

"Okay. You're going to breath in, look at the tip of the arrow and aim as close to the center of the target as you can, alright?" he said as he made sure she kept her posture as best she could. Natasha nodded stiffly.

"Okay," she said as she breathed in another deep breath - she was going to need the extra air. Clint supportively patted her shoulder.

"Give it your best shot Tasha," he said sincerely as he watched her grip the back of the arrow tightly with her finger tips.

"I got raped by a target when I was 10 years old," Natasha said out of nowhere and slammed her eyes shut as she fired the arrow. It was like ripping off a band aid. Quick and yet excruciatingly painful. Clint instantly lost his balance as he froze in utter alarm at her abrupt words.

_WHOOSH_!

The arrow completely missed the target board and broke as it _smashed_ into the wall behind it.

"_Shit_!" he exclaimed as he tripped over his own feet and banged his forehead against her shoulder. Natasha remained steady and continued to stare at the empty target board in front of her with her hands still holding his bow as the string vibrated in place. She felt him push himself away from her and just _stare_ at her. She refused to feel uncomfortable.

"I thought you wanted to know what the drugs made me remember?" she asked warily in answer to his dead silent staring. Clint finally sighed and looked away.

"Not like this Tasha. Why do you always have to do things like _this_?" he asked as he rubbed his tired eyes. He never expected her to be so upfront about something like that. Natasha suddenly narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"Did you not expect it?" she asked tensely. Clint shook his head. That wasn't it at all.

"Honestly Tasha? I knew. I always knew," he said quietly. There were signs he had picked up on. He was good at reading people. Her past was too screwed up for that not to be a high possibility. Natasha huffed and focused her eyes back on the weapon in her hands and away from his solemn face.

"Why are you just standing there? I thought you were teaching me something I'm never going to use?" she asked carefully picking up another arrow and pulling the string back with it. Clint just continued to watch her stare down the arrow in her hand. She was beautiful - but she was scarred. A resilient creature surrounded by darkness.

He continued to be silent for several minutes while he just focused on breathing and not going on a single minded killer man hunt right this _second_. He would be a hypocrite and go against everything he wanted her to pick up from him while working for SHIELD.

"Is he alive?" he asked with no emotion in his voice. If he let his emotions through he thinks he might punch a hole through a wall. He might just explode himself. He didn't do either of those things because Tasha was standing right next to him. If he let himself get _that_ angry he could accidentally hurt her. Worst, he would reinforce in her head that getting angry enough to kill someone for unjustifiable reasons was okay.

It wasn't.

"I don't know," she said carefully. Clint curled his hands into fists and clenched his jaw as he tried to keep the images of dirty Russian men _touching_ his partner without her consent and making her scream out of his head.

It wasn't working.

"Was that the only time Tasha?" he asked steadily. Natasha stared holes into the ground.

"Yes- it never happened again. I was drugged when that happened or I could have easily fought back. I didn't let it happen _ever_ again," she said heatedly with flashing green eyes. Clint inhaled another sharp breath - he was losing his inner fight to keep his emotions in check. The things his partner has faced he wouldn't even wish on his worst enemy. And yet she bore her past silently and with dignity.

She was also fed up with his protective male response.

"Get over yourself and teach me to shoot Barton. I told you what you wanted to know and that's the end of it okay? It happened, I survived worst deranged crap anyway and I'm alive today. They fucked with my mind and played with it like it was a toy for god's sake! I don't expect you to understand how it feels - I just needed you to know okay?" she said with a no nonsense expression. She wasn't about to burst into tears just because she told him the terrible facts. She was stronger than that though. She was strong enough to tell him what he deserved to know, even if he would never understand.

Clint shook his head as he continued to stare at her. He suddenly started laughing hysterically as he braced one hand against the wall beside her and covered his face with his other hand.

Natasha _stared_ at him like he had just lost his mind.

Maybe he had.

"This is the biggest fucking tragedy I've ever heard because I _do_ know how you feel Tasha. Oh you have no idea. I was seduced by one of the 40 year old fortune teller ladies in the circus I used to live at. I was 15 and did the stupidest stupid shit I could have ever done. I did _whatever_ she asked of me. No matter how weird it was or how wrong it felt - I did it. I thought I was in _love_ with her," he spat bitterly. He felt Natasha freeze up and breathe through her intense anger on his behalf- but it wasn't shock because she had managed to figure out something wasn't right in Japan. He had been too skilled at making her feel good for it to be natural. Especially considering he wasn't really a casual relationship kind of guy. His job prevented that. Judging from the darkness radiating off of her who was getting over protective now?

"How long?" she forced herself to ask evenly. Clint rubbed his hands over his face and sighed heavily. He had finally stopped his freaky broken laughter.

"2 years - right up until I ditched that hell hole and joined the damn army. She made me do the creepiest sex shit _ever_," he said resentfully. Natasha stiffened instantly.

"That's _disgusting_," she hissed. If she ever go her hands on that woman…she didn't even know _what_ she would do to her. But she can't take the pain or the scarring she did to her partner back. She could kill the bitch - but that would solve _nothing_. Clint suddenly grunted.

"I think doing a 10 year old little girl is _more_ disgusting than whatever she did to me," he muttered back. Natasha's eyes flashed.

"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean it's worse for me - _you're_ the one who was sexually assaulted for two _years_. Mine was a onetime thing," she growled. Clint fiercely shook his head.

"I thought it was consensual at first. She didn't really hurt me physical. It was all really just freaky mind fucking stuff - especially considering how much older she was. But _he_ must have hurt you for you to scream like that Tasha," he said quietly. Natasha instantly went rigid and her eyes darkened.

"I don't break easily Barton," she said threateningly through gritted teeth. If she got beaten down to the ground she never _stayed_ on the ground. So many girls let the pain break them. Natasha wasn't like other girls. She had picked her broken body back up and used the pain to keep going. She trained harder. She fought harder. She never let a man take advantage of her ever again. She killed every single target she _ever_ slept with after that. _Every single last one_ was a messy brutal kill. She killed them all like she had always wanted to kill the first man that touched her.

_That's_ why she's scared to sleep with her partner.

Clint suddenly shook his head.

"But that's _you_ Tasha - most women aren't like you. They're not strong like you. Most women are too soft and easy to break," he whispered staring at his hands with a faraway look in his eyes. Natasha suddenly grew quiet as she watched the painful emotions filter across his face.

"Who died Barton?" she asked quietly. Clint dropped his hands to his side and stared vacantly at the wall.

"My mother," he said softly. Natasha faltered as she heard the honest love in his voice. She's never heard that tone in his voice before.

"How…did she die?" Natasha asked hesitantly, but she didn't know if she _really_ wanted to know the answer. When he started laughing darkly again she knew it was bad.

"My drunk dad shoved her too hard and she hit her head against the sharp corner of the kitchen counter and died instantly. He shot himself seconds afterwards right in front of me and my brother. I was 7 and Barney was 10. We got shipped to foster homes for the next few years. Life went to _shit_," he whispered as he backed into the wall and slid down to the ground. Natasha watched his hands start to shake and quickly placed his bow on the ground beside him and kneeled in front of him. She hesitantly lift his head and saw his eyes start to get pink around the edges - but there were no tears. Just soul sucking _sadness_.

"Do you remember her?" she asked quietly. Clint ran a shaky hand through his hair as she stroked his cheek as he tried to calm down from a giving himself an honest heart attack. It was one of the the nicest things anyone has ever done for him.

"Yes, a little bit. She was nice. I remember her voice was always soft. She used to hug me a lot. She gave me sweets when we could afford it. She'd sleep with me sometimes and we'd read together…I _sucked_ at reading. I got all the words wrong but she would correct my gently. Barney was always jealous because I was the baby who got all the attention - but I was the quiet kid. He was the troublemaker. It really wasn't my fault. She was the _only_ good thing I had in my entire life," he said wistfully - _before I had you,_ echoed in his head. Natasha had to look away from the sheer _emotion_ glowing in his misty eyes - it was too much for her.

"So _that's_ why you're like this," Natasha said quietly as she stared at the ground. Clint furrowed his brow.

"Like what Tasha?" he asked quietly.

She gave him an unexpectedly sharp look and gestured to how he was tightly gripping her waist like she was his lifeline.

"Like this. Hugging me. Kissing me. Wanting to hold me at night. People in this business usually aren't _like_ that Barton. We _kill_ people. And then most assassins want to drink themselves into oblivion - but you just want to freaking _hold_ me while you sleep off the stress or burn through it by shooting your arrows. I thought you were _fucked up._ You wonder why I was so freaked out in beginning? I thought you were conning me because there was no _way_ that was natural Barton! No god damn way!" she said as she angrily _punched_ the cement wall beside his head. Clint flinched at her sharp tone and the echoing impact right beside his cheek.

"It _is_ real. I'm not conning you Natasha," he said stiffly trying to keep the slight hint of hurt out of his voice. Natasha dropped her head into her hands and growled in frustration.

"I _know_ Barton. I know that now," she whispered into her hands. She felt his arms wrap around her again and drag her into another tight embrace. They were quiet for a few moments as they just tired to keep breathing.

"Soldier fight for their country and kill people…and then they go back to their families," he suddenly said quietly breaking the silence. He was a real soldier for a few years. He will always be a soldier at heart. Natasha stiffened at his unexpected words with unwanted implications.

"I'm not a soldier Barton," she steadily. Clint smiled sadly against her shoulder.

"I know you're not Tasha," he said honestly. She was a spy - not a soldier. She didn't fight in wars unless she had one really damn good reason to. Natasha suddenly exhaled sharply.

"I'm not your _family_ either," she said tensely. Clint remained quiet and didn't respond right away. Natasha stiffened, but he didn't let her pull away.

"Aren't you Tasha?" he finally asked in a faraway voice. He doesn't have any real family left. He killed the last person he was ever related to. His brother. His drunk abusive brother. The accidental kill he regretted the most was his very _first_ one. Natasha fiercely shook her head.

"No. I'm your _partner_. I go into the field with you. I'm _not_ your family," she said tightly. Clint stared at the ground over her shoulder for a long moment as he tried to put it into words that she would understand. In terms Natasha _could_ understand.

"You told me you compartmentalize who I am right? Well then I'll just compartmentalize _you_. The Black Widow is my partner. And Tasha is my family - because I sure as hell don't sleep with the Widow," he said with a slight bitter laugh. Natasha finally sagged against him and just gave up. It wasn't worth fighting about - she was tired of fighting. If he wanted them to be some fucked up family then fine.

"You're fucked up Barton," she said flatly. Clint smiled weakly.

"Yeah - I know Tasha," he whispered warmly against her hair. He was quiet for another moment before he asked her something he has always been wondering.

"What's the _first_ thing you remember from your childhood? The earliest memory you have?" he asked quietly. Natasha suddenly stiffened in alarm.

"You don't want to know Barton," she said as she instantly pulled out of his arms and inched away from him. Clint grabbed her around the waist and dragged her _right_ back against his side.

"I _want_ to know Tasha," he said firmly. Natasha shook her head and tried to get away again but he held her in place until she finally stopped trying and just pulled her knees up to her chest. He waited for her to speak as she took several shaky breaths.

"You'll hate me Clint. I don't want you to hate me. You're the _only_ person who doesn't hate me. You'll hate me _so much_," she whispered painfully into her knees. Clint ran his hand through her soft red hair and shook his head.

"I won't hate you Tasha. I promise you, I won't hate you no matter what you did. I can't hate you. _I promise_," he said solemnly. She could have killed a hundred innocent people and he wouldn't hate her - he was too far gone to hate her. Natasha slammed her eyes shut and told him her worst memory of her entire _life_.

"I blew up a Children's hospital with my parents in it," she whispered brokenly. _I killed them._ _I killed my parents_. Clint just breathed and tried not to freeze up on her. He _promised_ and he would keep his promise.

"Why did you do that Tasha? Why did you do that?" he asked in a strained voice. Natasha started shaking slightly pressed up against his side.

"I don't know. I don't know why- but I don't think the memory is completely real. There are things missing. I don't know which memories are real and which ones _they_ put there to keep me in line," she whispered as she tried to keep the unbelievable amount of pain out of her voice. Clint took several deep breaths as he sat beside her. He always wondered how her hit count could possibly be in the 700 hundred range.

"How does blowing up a hospital keep you in line?" he asked fearfully. How could someone do that to a little girl? Natasha tightly wrapped an arm around her knees and shook her head.

"They made me feel like I was a monster. They put me in a dark room and showed me the faces of all the kids I burned in the fire and they used that to try and own me. They said they can keep the monster in me at bay if I listened to them," she said in defeat before she buried her face in her knees and tightly shut her eyes as she braced herself for the pain. Now he was going to leave her. Everyone always leaves her. She'll always be left alone in the end. No one will _ever_ stay with her.

And then she felt herself get picked up and held tightly against something warm, solid and made her feel _safe_. She blinked slowly as strong arms wrapped around her back and held her trapped in a warm cage and for the first time in her life she didn't _want_ to escape. She wanted to stay in this cage forever.

"You're _not_ a monster Natasha," Clint whispered fiercely into her hair. Natasha swayed slightly in exhaustion.

"Are you sure?" she asked quietly as she leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. She killed so many people.

_So many people. So much red. _

All she felt was Clint's hand tuck her head under his chin and hold her closer to him. Natasha just _breathed_ shakily and tightly gripped his uniform as she pressed her face into his chest. She can't believe that after everything she told him he was _still here_.

"It's the _only_ thing I'm sure of anymore _Natasha_," he whispered sincerely into her hair as they sat on the ground together in a cold abandoned warehouse, with his arrows littering the floor as they listened to sound of New York traffic buzzing in the distance. They breathed together and held on for dear life. Something to keep living for. Something to keep fighting for.

Someone to give them a reason to keep moving _forward_ no matter how hard it was to keep breathing through the painful moments of their lives.

_I won't let you be a monster Tasha. I won't let you hurt yourself or anyone else who doesn't deserve it anymore._

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: So broken….just so broken….Natasha finally told him about her past. That was one chapter I think a lot of people were waiting for months to read.**

**Please let me know how you feel after reading that. It was very difficult to write - was it difficult to read? Did you feel their pain and guilt?**


	118. Chapter 118

**I Dare You **

**A/N: Well that was a lot of angst! They finally opened up. **

**And…well I guess this is more angst…but there is some comic relief? LOL.**

**Just ignore the sleep deprived author and read.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 118**

The sad thing about life - is that it has a tendency to repeat itself.

_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! _

The sound of a hand making direct contact with a face echoed in a room.

_BAM!_

"_Don't_. Don't you _dare_ move or I would knock you out cold and give you a concussion instead of just a nose bleed," Natasha muttered warningly as she held her partner's face _down_ and away from hers. Clint just slowly blinked awake as he lazily stared up at the ceiling through the gaps in between her fingers.

He hadn't moved a muscle.

"I wasn't going to freak - I knew you were there," he said calmly resting his hands on her hips. Natasha did not look impressed.

"Yeah, well forgive me for being cautious after yesterday's fiasco," she grumbled as she lifted herself off of him and gave him a dirty look. Clint huffed.

"You're never going to let that one go are you?" he groaned. Natasha snorted.

"Never. First man I sleep with and he gives himself a nose bleed and nearly gives me a concussion as a plus the morning after. You are a one hell of a klutz," she deadpanned. Clint scowled as he sulked.

"I resent that," he muttered. Natasha promptly pinched his arms and forced him to let go of her, causing him to wince as she sat up.

"You do that. While you are resenting yourself in the corner I'm going to tell your one and only pathetic friend to piss off after throwing us out of SHIELD yesterday," she said irritably plucking her SHIELD phone off the table. Clint snorted.

"That was all your fault Red - _all_ on you," he said as he watched her move towards the edge of the bed.

Natasha ignored him as she pressed the answer button and instantly started talking.

"The next time you want to ceremoniously suspend us and want to act all smug with your little secretive black sunglasses and your sleek dark suit, keep in mind that I broke into your locker a few weeks ago and I know your dirty secret. I know what you hide in there Coulson," Natasha said with a theatrically threatening tone. Clint's ears perked up as he listened to his partner have an audio showdown with their handler.

_Cricket…cricket…cricket…_

"…You know _nothing_ Romanoff," Coulson said warningly, but he seemed to have picked up on her mood and was actually playing along. Clint just rolled his eyes and stuffed his head under the pillow.

His friends were _weird_.

"Don't test me you dull American pencil pusher," Natasha said ominously. She heard a inelegant snort from her right but didn't acknowledge him. Coulson was a badass - he was nowhere _near_ a pencil pusher.

"You are one gigantic Russian _bluffer_," Coulson said flatly. Natasha's answering smirk was just _evil_. Clint peeked out from under his pillow and watched her in _awe_.

She was like free entertainment. He needed popcorn - _now_.

"He's blond, red and blue stripped and he's all over your walls. You're a closet Captain America fan Coulson. Admit it," Natasha said damningly. Coulson inhaled a sharp breath.

Busted.

"I admit _nothing_. I was framed," Coulson said in indignation. Natasha snorted. He was such a righteous liar.

"Too bad. I will reveal your dirty secret on the internet for all agents to see - if you don't un-ban us _right now,"_ she said with a hint of seriousness bleeding through her mild sarcasm. Coulson paused and was quiet for a moment.

"You're not banned Romanoff. I called because you two are still doing training today," Coulson said ending their little verbal tussle. Natasha blinked, that was the only sign Clint saw that showed how she was surprised by what Coulson said at all - but then she bounced back fast.

"Okay, good. And Phil?" Natasha said warily. Clint watched a shadow cross her face as she held the phone tighter.

"What is it Natasha?" Coulson asked cautiously. Natasha felt her partner's eyes on her but didn't look at him.

"I'm sorry about yesterday. About Barnes. About Yago. About all the shit that went down," Natasha said quietly. She heard Coulson take a deep breath and run a hand through his hair.

"That's...alright. Actually, considering what we figured out about the drugs and the bomb implanted in his head, Barnes had been planning that for at least 3 days- you were passed out during that entire time. You're clear. There was nothing we could have done to stop it that late in the game. You just happened to figure it out a few minutes before everyone else," Coulson said with a sigh. Natasha didn't know why she cared what Coulson thought of her - but something that felt suspiciously like relief filled her chest.

He finally _believed_ her.

"So we're good?" she asked carefully. Coulson nodded tiredly.

"Yes, we're good. See you two in a bit," Coulson said with a tired smile in his voice before he hung up. Natasha took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Have you ever done something because everyone wanted you to and it fixed a mess you created - and yet you still felt like shit because you didn't do it for yourself?

That's how she feels.

Natasha ended the call and stared at the phone as she waited for him to speak.

"Was it a lie?" Clint asked as he stared up at her ceiling. Natasha exhaled slowly.

"Yes," she said simply. He didn't react as he continued to catalogue the bullet holes still embedded in the ceiling. He put one there a long time ago - she must had added to the collection when he wasn't around.

"Don't do it again and you won't have to lie to him next time," Clint said quietly with no judgement in his tone. Natasha gripped the phone tighter and narrowed her eyes. Every time she expected him to flip out on her like any normal person would he would do the opposite. If she didn't know him better she'd think this was all just a ruse. But she does know him - and 11 months is way too long for even the best actor in the world to continue a charade like this. He can't possibly be conning her at this point. Natasha suddenly made up her mind and picked her laptop off the floor and booted it up. Clint glanced at her curiously as she started furiously typing away.

"What are you doing?" he asked warily. Natasha didn't even spare him a glance.

"Background checking every agent we're going to train today," she said simply as she started hacking the SHIELD database. Clint rolled over and stared at her work.

"How do you even _know_ who we are training?" Clint asked suspiciously. Natasha gave him _the stare_. Was he not watching what she was currently doing right beside him?

He returned her stare with a look that said - _answer me anyway woman_.

"I'll find out," she muttered as she broke through their firewalls. It was kind of depressing to know she could have hacked SHIELD internal agent files even back when she wasn't on their side. A thought suddenly occurred to Clint.

"Can you hack alpha files?" he asked as he watched her scan through each agent profile. Natasha sharply shook her head.

"No. Those have some of the world's best security locks on them. The farthest I can hack is maybe officer status which is clearance level 9," she said steadily. Clint really didn't care about who they were training as much as Natasha seemed to be interested in knowing. As long as no one died or ended up traumatized beyond repair he would consider this training session a success. Clint was clearly bored so it really wasn't his fault when he started drawing bows and arrows on her exposed thighs while she read boring status profiles.

5 minutes of relentless tracing later Natasha was on her last nerve - he was being _distracting_.

"Stop that right now or I will _taze_ you Barton," Natasha said warningly without stopping her scan of the junior SHIELD agent files. Clint instantly stopped messing with her and narrowed his eyes playfully.

"What? You don't have a tazer on you - you big bluffer," Clint muttered suspiciously as he quickly checked her over and eyed her tight white T shirt and dark blue shorts. He perversely enjoyed seeing her in them - but they didn't hide much at all. Natasha promptly clicked a button on her pen and jabbed him in the shoulder without looking away from her computer screen.

"Checkmate," she said calmly.

"_AHHHH_!" Clint yelped as a gigantic real mega voltage electric _shock_ went right through his body and fried his hair before he fell over onto his face in their bed.

He just can't _believe_ she just did that. His smoking head promptly shot up and _stared_ at her.

"_Natasha_!" Clint hissed in utter disbelief. Natasha just casually petted his _literally_ hot hair and shrugged theatrically.

"Pen tazer. Classic. Can't believe you fell for it. You're a horrible spy," Natasha said dryly before she tossed the pen onto the edge of their bed and continued her work while her partner dropped back onto the bed in defeat and just laid there flat on his face and twitched awkwardly beside her.

He _hated_ electric shocks - they made his skin feel fuzzy.

"You're a _beast,_ woman," Clint grumbled darkly as he buried his face in her pillow and tried to tell himself he was skilled enough not to let her catch him breathing in her scent. He knew he failed when Natasha's lips curved into a sly little smirk. She was a damn sadistic asshole and she _knew_ it.

"I know you poor baby bird - go crawl back to your nest and grow up before you try and fly away," she said innocently. Clint's face went blank.

"You know I'm going to get you right?" he said flatly.

"You can _try_," Natasha said unconcernedly. She'd see whatever he would use to get back at her from a mile away. Clint narrowed his eyes before he instantly dived and knocked her down. He trapped her beneath him with her hands held tightly in his grasp above her head and gave her a look of unearned triumph.

They both knew she simply let him do that. She was the far better hand to hand combat expert.

"What are you going to do _now_ Widow?" he said darkly right in her face. Natasha merely blinked.

"You'd be a crap villain. Your voice is all wrong," Natasha said in a bored tone. Clint scoffed and held her wrists tighter.

"_Bullshit_. You're just making that up!" he said with an accusing glare. Natasha simply watched him internally sulk for a few seconds before she blew hot air into his face which made him lose his sharp focus for a second as he watched her red hair fall away from her face.

"You're too soft," she said calmly. Clint's expression instantly darkened and he let her go, before sharply turning away.

"I'm not soft Natasha. After I joined SHIELD I just chose not to lose myself to that side anymore," he said evenly._ I've had much more time then you to learn how to keep myself under control._ 5 years with SHIELD can change anyone. Very few things could ever break his control and make him want to ruthlessly murder someone.

"How so?" she asked warily. Clint clenched his jaw and looked away.

"I told you I have a ledger too. I did jobs that I regret more than anything else in the world when I was a contract assassin. I shot people I shouldn't have. I killed men and women who were not the most virtuous in the world - but they didn't deserve to die. Contract work was like a game of black market business under the table. Both sides hired skilled assassins to take out the competition - sometimes they pitted assassins against each other just for the hell of it. It was all just money and games to them Tasha," he bitterly as he curled his hands into fists. He hated that lifestyle. He hated the cheap flare and the booze. He hated everything about himself before Coulson showed up in his pathetic life that had been going nowhere fast.

He still kind of hates himself - but she didn't need to know that. Natasha tilted her head to the side as she considered what he said.

"Killing for money and entertainment - I don't see what is not typical about that. If you really think about it _we're_ the ones who are going out of our way to make our lives difficult by working for people that don't pay us well, but ask us to do assassinations that are extremely high risk and complicated," Natasha said evenly. Clint sharply shook his head.

"I don't work for people who will pay me well Natasha. That's not why I work here," he said guardedly. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"I know you don't work for money Barton- but what did you do with all the money you got from contract work?" she asked suspiciously. She watched him instantly stiffen.

"I blew off most of it on alcohol and gambling," he said cautiously. Natasha gave him a careful. _You're lying._

"I know how much we make on the market Barton - if the job is big enough you make _serious_ cash. And I've known you for almost a year now - and you don't spend _shit_. You spend your money on keeping your bow in top condition, buying new guns and wasting a few hundred on pointless sweets," she said with an unimpressed face. Clint's expression went from wary to serious in an instant.

"Don't just point fingers at me Natasha. How much money do _you_ have stashed away?" he asked carefully. Natasha's eyes hardened.

"Not important," she said sharply turning away from him. Clint stared at her back for a long moment before he finally looked away.

His answer lay in the tension in her shoulders.

"_Have_ you raked up millions Natasha?" Clint asked quietly from behind her. Natasha's eyes flashed.

They didn't live glamorous flashy lifestyles - but that didn't mean they _couldn't_.

"Have _you_ Barton?" she shot back guardedly. They have actually never talked about how much money they both had stashed away all over the world for emergency purposes. They were assassins who lived dangerous lives - if she ever had to run she had several back up identities in a dozen different countries across the globe. Natasha knew she was prepared for every possible worst case scenario - she didn't know what his emergency plans were. Clint's expression suddenly darkened.

"You want the truth Natasha? Being a contract assassin _was_ a shit load of cash - but it drove me crazy. I didn't like the work I was doing, but I didn't know what else to do. I got into a lot of fights. I lost a lot of money. I slept with a lot of women I don't remember and woke up in a lot of places I didn't recognize. It was a nightmare coming out of the military and being thrown into a world like that. I didn't want it. I was wasted and high half the time. I was an utter mess. I got really low and if Coulson didn't come along I wouldn't be _alive_ today," he said with a faraway expression in his face. Natasha sighed - she knew.

"I know - you told me," she said quietly. Clint eyes fell - he remembered that day.

"Why don't you use the money Natasha?" he asked quietly. Natasha tensed.

"Why don't _you_?" she shot back edgily. Clint's eyes darkened.

"No one said I didn't," he said carefully. Natasha clenched her hands into fists.

"I won't use that money now - it's blood money earned by killing people I didn't necessarily want to," she said stiffly. Clint furrowed his brow.

"I thought you worked for the Russians?" he asked cautiously. Natasha shook her head.

"Not exclusively. Sometimes I took jobs outside of the Red Room as long as there wasn't a conflict of interest - I got to keep the money. I needed it before I defected- I don't need it anymore," she said guardedly. Clint was quiet for a few moments.

"What did you do with it Tasha?" he asked quietly again. The tension in Natasha's shoulders suddenly started to fade slowly as she breathed and reminded herself she was talking to her partner - not an interrogator.

"I stashed it in different safe houses around the world," she finally said softly. Clint nodded. That's what he thought.

"How many do you have?" he asked cautiously. Natasha stiffened slightly.

"How many do _you_ have?" she shot back. Clint stared at the floor for a moment before he finally answered. He was tired of this stalemate game.

"8 in 8 separate countries," he said steadily. Natasha faltered and stared at her hands.

"I have 16," she said warily. She suddenly felt his hand cup her cheek and turn her head to face him.

"Name one of your cities and I'll name one of mine Tasha," he said giving her a weak smile. Safe houses are one thing you never tell anyone else - just in case. You need places to hide where no one else can find you - not even your partner. Natasha gave him a wary look but relented in the end.

"Budapest," she said quietly. Clint blinked.

"Well that's interesting. I have one in Budapest too," he said warily. Natasha gave him a guarded look.

"Why did you choose Budapest?" she asked cautiously. Clint instantly went still as he stared at the wall with unseeing eyes.

"Bad job," he said darkly. _Very bad job. _He didn't elaborate and she didn't push for any details. Instead she told him why for herself.

"I needed a place in that city…because a major Red Room satellite post is there to monitor the operations happening along the border of eastern and western Europe," she said carefully. Clint tore his eyes away from the wall and finally looked at her - in disbelief.

"Damn it Natasha. The more you talk about this the more I feel like you have been planning something you're not telling me," Clint said tightly. Natasha's eyes darkened as she clenched her hands into fists.

"After countless memory washing cycles. After years of pointless bloodshed. After everything the Red Room did to me all I wanted was to be _free_. I wanted to finally be left _alone_," she said darkly. _Nobody ever leaves me in peace._ _They will never leave me in peace until either I'm dead or they are all dead_. Clint froze and he faltered as her words washed over him and nearly drowned him.

"But you _are_ free now Natasha. You…you can be alone if that's what you want," he forced himself to say. He wouldn't stop her if that was what she truly wanted. He wouldn't even let SHIELD stop her from disappearing if that's what would make her happy. Natasha saw the intense struggle and pain in his eyes as he gave her the words he thought she wanted to hear and she sighed heavily. He was such a selfless idiot.

It would nearly kill him if she left.

"No Clint, that's not what I meant. I'm not giving you a really crap break up line," she said tiredly. Her desire to be left alone wasn't literal - she just didn't want to be owned by any organization anymore. Clint opened his mouth to say that sure as hell sounded like she didn't want him, but she slammed her hand over his mouth before he could start ranting at her.

"No, we're _not_ dating. Don't even _go_ there," she said with a warningly look. Clint sighed and banged his head back against the headboard in defeat. _That's what you say Tasha. That's what you always say. But everything we do says the opposite._

"I _really_ hate your intense desire to deny and defy all and every label in existence," he grumbled against her hand. Natasha eyed him for a second and spoke.

"Labels make you weak. They tie you down to things. They are _restrictive_," she said carefully. What she didn't say was that labels make your weakness more real and concrete. She _refused_ to solidify that she had a weakness. She didn't want anyone to think he was her weakness - _even if he was. _Clint suddenly narrowed his eyes.

"You don't want restrictive? Is that what you're saying? Aren't _we_ exclusive Natasha?" he asked heatedly. All he got was stony silence. Clint had enough - he was going to _make_ her talk.

"What would you do if I suddenly went out and banged any of the willing female SHIELD agents that would love to sleep with me? What would you do _then_ Tasha?" he asked as he gripped her shoulders and shook her roughly. Natasha tensed before she tightly grabbed him by the collar of his shirt to stop him from shaking her.

"_Shut up_," she hissed in his face. Clint fiercely shook his head.

"You'd be _angry_ wouldn't you Tasha? You'd probably want to kill me and then turn around kill _her_. You would be burning with jealousy and it would _hurt so much_. Wouldn't it Tasha? Wouldn't it hurt if I did that? If I slept with someone that wasn't _you_?" he shouted. He felt her freeze up before she finally cracked.

"Of _course_ it would hurt you bastard!" she shouted as she slammed her eyes shut and tried to shove him away. However Clint just held onto her arms tighter and gave her a piercing stare.

"But here's the difference. I would _never_ do that to you Tasha. As long as you never do that to me," he said carefully. Natasha gave him an frustrated look.

"I have no intention of sleeping with anyone _ever_ again," she said angrily. No SHIELD mission would ever require her to sleep with a target unlike her past Red Room assignments. Clint's eyes suddenly saddened and he instantly dragged her into a bone crushing embrace.

"I know Tasha. I know what they did to you. I know they used you," he said quietly against her hair. He took a deep breath and tried to tell himself that it was okay if Natasha never wanted him that way - even if it _really_ wasn't okay. He felt her tightly grip his shirt and bury her face in his chest.

"Stop bracing yourself. That doesn't mean I don't want _you_ - I just don't want to sleep with random _people_ anymore. I just need more time. A lot shit just happened and I don't think I can handle any more stress right now," she said hesitantly. Clint nearly collapsed in relief - he didn't really want to be celibate for life.

"I'm not going anywhere Tasha. I promise I'll wait. I'm in no rush," he said sincerely. Natasha sagged in relief.

"_Thank you_," she said honestly. She's so tired of men always wanting to jump into her pants right when they meet her. No one has ever cared how _she_ felt. She felt him run his hand through her hair and sighed.

"You know, you can't have me and pretend there is nothing tying us together at the same time Natasha. I know we have something important - something worth fighting for," he said quietly. He felt Natasha stiffened in his arms.

"And that is why you are soft," she muttered suddenly pulling away and closing up on him. Clint tensed.

"I'm _not_ soft Natasha - I am just not as cold and defensive as _you_ are," he said heatedly. Natasha watched him keep his irritation in check and her eyes hardened.

"You bruised my wrists," she said carefully watching his face as she waited for his reaction. He didn't disappoint. She watched him freeze up and instantly glance down at her wrists in worry.

"_No_, I didn't hold that hard," he whispered instantly checking her hands and flipping them over. She let him gently manhandle her and watched silently as he paused when he found nothing but pale Russian skin.

She had been lying.

"Soft," she said quietly before she slipped her hands out of his loose grasp and glided into her washroom. He waited until he heard the shower turn on before he lost it.

"_Shit_," Clint growled as he roughly punched the wall.

_BAM!_

"What are you trying to prove Natasha? That I lost my touch just because I _care_ for you?" he said heatedly into the empty air around him. It's always one step forward and two steps back with her.

WOOOSH.

If the water pressure sound went up on purpose he was going to _strangle_ her.

He didn't know how to be anything except what he was. He was an archer, a sniper, a SHIELD agent, a highly skilled assassin - and a man who genuinely cared for her. He could still put a bullet through a criminal's forehead fine, regardless of how he feels for her.

Why can't she accept that?

Stupid bipolar partners.

Clint stared at her open laptop screen for a moment. Speaking of partners something suddenly occurred to him. He instantly paled as he spun it around and typed something in. When a file popped up he scanned the page with his sharp eyes that never missed a single detail.

_Today's date: Nov/20/2003_

_Operative: Agent Lisa Lee - returned from a 3 month undercover operation in Bolivia._

_ACTIVE STATUS: Alive. _

_MEDICAL STATUS: Moderate injuries. In Medical. Scheduled for release at 1000. (Nov/20/2003)_

_CURRENT MISSION STATUS: Success. NOTE: Terminated Bolivian drug cartel and eliminated ring leader. _

_Current expected debrief time: 1030. (Nov/20/2003)_

_PARTNER STATUS: DECEASED. Agent Michel Kiel - killed in action in Romania. (Sept/18/2003)._

_Oh shit,_ Clint thought.

"Natasha?" he called out while trying to keep the anxiety down as he read through the rest of agent Lee's file. He heard the shower water turn down and an annoyed voice responded.

"What do you _want_ Barton?" she shouted back through the door. Clint frowned as he stared at the words in front of him. He had something important to do.

"Get your ass out in 5 - we're going to SHIELD early," he shouted before he closed the computer screen and grabbed his phone before he started making some calls as he walked out of her room. Natasha stared at the wet tiles in front of her as the water continued to pour down her face.

_What the hell was he doing?_

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

_An hour later._

"You are _not_ going to kill anyone today," Clint said flatly as they walked down the SHIELD base halls for the first time as non-medical restricted agents in 2 months. They got a few wary looks as they entered the main floor, but as usual they ignored the stares.

"I kind of figured fried juniors were off the menu," she said dryly. Clint sighed and felt like groaning. He swore she acted psychotic just to annoy him sometimes.

"I have this agent to talk to before we hit the training rooms and meet the SHIELD junior cavalry," he said suddenly turning serious as he opened a glass door and held it open for her.

"Who is agent Lee?" Natasha asked calmly as she walked passed him. Clint didn't even blink - he wasn't surprised she figured out what he was doing so fast.

"Just someone I have to relay a message to…," he said carefully. Natasha was quiet as they continued down another hall.

"Her partner died in Romania," Natasha said finally. Clint paused for a fraction of a second before he kept walking.

"Yeah - he died," he said quietly. Natasha's expression didn't change, but he could tell she was rapidly putting all the pieces together in her sharp mind.

"He's one of the agents you met in the HYDRA base," she concluded skillfully. _The ones that committed suicide_, she tactfully left unsaid. Clint nodded slowly as he stared at the wall beside him.

"Yes," he said solemnly. He wondered if she was going to make a fuss out of this or not.

She surprised him.

"Then do what you have to do Barton," she said evenly without any further questioning. Clint felt his heart speed up - she _trusted_ him. It made him feel lightheaded - but he didn't show it.

"Thank you," he said quietly. Natasha instantly frowned and gave him a sharp look.

"Don't thank me when I didn't do anything Barton. Save your thanks for the times when I truly save your ass," she said carefully. Clint chuckled - she has already saved his ass too many times. He suddenly remembered something.

"I remember the little deal you made with Conroy to get us out of here while I still had amnesia- don't you dare talk to him and go near any unstable weapons without me," he said carefully.

Natasha raised her eyebrows and stared at him. _Wow. Was he trying to tell her what to do?_ Clint gave her the nasty stink eye.

"_Natasha_," he said warningly.

Her eyebrows just got even higher.

_Yes. Yes he was. _

"Whatever you say agent Barton - _you big fat control freak_," she said warily as she casually spun around and walked away. Clint narrowed his eyes - she hadn't answered him. He hates when she doesn't give him confirmation.

"I heard that," he said flatly as he watched her go. Natasha would have snorted if they weren't at SHIELD. Instead she schooled her face to look scarily blank and just kept walking.

"_You were supposed to you crazy Hawk-child_," she muttered under breath as she continued down the hall. Clint's expression went blank as well - he could _still_ hear her. She wasn't being subtle at all.

"I heard that too you know," he called after her. Natasha just _barely_ managed to prevent herself from rolling her eyes as she rounded the corner. The second she lost sight of her partner it was like the deadly cold aura around her spiked by tenfold. If the tense agents giving her a 1 meter radius as they passed her was anything to go by she was terrifying them as she silently glided down the SHIELD halls without her boots making a _sound_. The fact that she had slid her _I will shoot you if you try and talk to me face_ on was not helping with calming them down. The Black Widow without Hawkeye tailing her was enough to send every single agent's survival instincts into overdrive. Their response was almost enough to make her want to roll her eyes again - but she didn't.

The Black Widow doesn't roll her eyes. She just _doesn't_.

But Tasha did when Clint was being an overprotective idiot. He was different.

He was the only person in the entire world that will _ever_ feel protective of the Widow. Everyone else felt like _they_ were the ones would needed protection _from_ her - with damn good reason. She was extremely dangerous when provoked. No one knew about her interrogation of Yago - but there were rumours. No one would get the facts though because the second Yago was dead everything about him was made classified and no one was allowed to speak of him without top high security clearance.

For most people _she_ was what they considered a red alert threat. She always carried the potential of being a base wide threat. No one at SHIELD could talk to her without feeling some form of anxiety - she had come from one of the darkest criminal corners of the world after all. She had the eyes of a killer - one of the best killers in the world. Everyone thought they knew her story. Everyone thought they knew who the Black Widow was. Most people didn't believe there was anything remotely human under the cold hard Widow mask. To most agents she was ice cold to the core of her very being and there wasn't a single drop of warmth in her. To most agents she was considered incapable of feeling compassion, empathy or guilt. If she could feel those things - how can she be such an efficient agent with a SHIELD file that was just dripping in unjustifiable red? How could she not be driven insane by the things written in her files?

It wasn't a secret where the Widow came from or what she was capable of.

Only to Clint was she something worth jumping in front of a bullet for. Only to Clint was she something he wanted to keep close when the entire world wanted to keep her locked up and far away from them. Only to Clint was she a _person_ worth caring for. That was the only reason he had the privilege of seeing what was under the Widow's mask.

Natasha liked her partner fine, she even respected him - but she followed her own rules.

As _if_ she'd listen to him.

She suddenly flipped her SHIELD phone open and dialed a familiar number.

_Ring. Ring. Click. _

"Hey Conroy? What are you up to?" Natasha asked as she calmly continued down the hall with extremely satisfying images of a righteously pissed Clint Barton flashing across her mind. No one said she didn't like him when he was angry. You wonder why she wasn't bored as she sat on a ceiling beam and watched her partner fume as he worked through his rage for 5 hours yesterday?

If a junior agent just slammed his face into a wall - it was because the Widow had the barest hint of a smirk on her face.

Oh dear god she was going to make a grown man piss themselves at this rate.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

After he sent his partner away hoping she would listen to him, but knowing the chances were that she wasn't, Clint found himself sitting in a stiff seat in one of the many SHIELD conference rooms. He was waiting for one agent he has never met in his life, but felt he had one gigantic obligation he needed to fulfill to her and a promise he needed to get off his chest. He looked up when the door opened slowly to reveal a petite Chinese woman covered in medical gauze and shallow scarps and bruises.

"Agent Lee," Clint said in quiet greeting as she entered the room. Agent Lee paused in the doorway as she gave him a once over threat assessment (probably a drilled in habit) before she fully entered the room.

"Agent Barton," she said with a respectful nod before she took a careful seat across from him. He was her senior by almost 4years. She had no idea why he wanted to talk to her.

That was a bold lie she kept telling herself as she walked down here from SHIELD Medical. She knew something was wrong when her partner didn't greet her when she woke up. Clint took a deep breath before he started talking.

"I know you just got back from your mission in Bolivia - I heard you successfully shut down an entire drug smuggling operation. Good work," Clint said with a friendly look of approval.

Agent Lee just stared at him.

He didn't flinch - but he definitely felt like doing it inside.

"Forgive me for the disrespect agent Barton - but cut the crap and tell me why I'm here. I have a debriefing in 20 minutes and I am utterly _exhausted_," she said steadily. Clint gave her a solemn look. She was not a novice agent - she must have guessed already.

"You know why I asked you to come here agent Lee," he said with as sigh as he looked away and stared at the dull grey SHIELD conference room wall with unseeing eyes. There was a long tense pause as his words settled in the space between them.

"Is he dead?" she finally asked tonelessly. Clint closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Yes," he whispered damningly.

Silence echoed around the empty SHIELD room. He listened to her breathing rate barely fluctuate - she was a good professional agent. She knew the risks - but no one took the death of their partner well.

"Why are you telling me? Why isn't my handler Evans telling me?" she asked tightly holding onto her professionalism - but Clint could feel the intense desire to be left to her own devices underneath the calm mask. He learned how to read people's masks _so_ well over the last year. He's been partnered with a woman who was a master at masking her real emotions with fake ones. Clint gripped the edge of his chair and glanced up to give Agent Lee the courtesy of looking her dead in the eye.

"Agent Evans probably _is_ going to tell you in your debrief. However, this entire meeting is off the record. Agent Kiel asked me to tell you something personally," Clint said carefully. _I keep my promises._ Agent Lee instantly stiffened.

"I don't think you should tell me right now," she said guardedly as her eyes flashed towards the corner of the room. Clint smiled weakly and shook his head.

SHIELD agents were always so vigilant.

"Camera is off. There is no surveillance in this room - I checked," Clint said reassuringly. Agent Lee narrowed her tired but sharp eyes.

"Why should I trust you?" she asked tensely. Clint placed his hands on the table where she could see them and leaned back so as not to make her feel like he was cornering her.

"What do you have to lose agent Lee? What can they do to you now?" he asked sadly. She deflated instantly. He was right.

"What did he say?" she asked in defeat. Clint held eye contact with her even if all he wanted to do was stare at the ground and not be forced to watch the agony start to cloud her eyes. He knows how she feels - if only partially. The difference was that _her_ partner wasn't coming back.

"Agent Kiel said he was sorry and that he regrets letting go of something he should never have taken granted for. He said he doesn't regret anything else that might have happened between you two," Clint said quietly before he finally tore his eyes away from her face. It was too hard to watch the cracks start to form in her professional mask.

"He's a melodramatic idiot," she breathed shakily as she dropped her face into her hands. Clint nodded weakly.

"Yeah he was a mouthy firecracker in training," he muttered. Agent took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"How did he die?" she asked quietly. Clint tensed - that wasn't his job to tell her. His job was done.

"I think you have enough to deal with right now agent Lee-" he started to say but she cut him off with a quiet but firm tone.

"_How did he die_?" she repeated carefully. Clint faltered but reluctantly gave into her demand.

"Agent Gram shot him before the virus got to them," he said in defeat. _I'm the only virus survivor that was left, _echoed in the silent air between them. SHIELD saved him, but they couldn't save anyone else.

It wasn't fair - but life wasn't fair.

He heard her laugh weakly and he winced - it was a painful sound to listen to.

"I knew he'd get shot one day - I just didn't know it would happen so soon," she said tiredly. Clint didn't know what to say and so he ended up saying the wrong thing.

"I understand-," he started to try and console her, but he froze when she cut him off with a sharp vicious glare.

"_No_. You'll _never_ understand Barton - is _your_ partner dead? Is she?" she spat. Clint felt his breath catch in his throat.

"No," he breathed out steadily - he worked _damn_ hard to make sure she wasn't dead. He tried to stay calm when he watched agent Lee's eyes darken.

"Then how can you possibly understand? We're not as good of an agent as you. We broke rules we shouldn't have. He took that mission to prove that we could work separately. Now he's _gone_. You'll _never_ understand because you don't know what it's _like_ to be compromised! How would you know? Everyone always said to be more like agent Barton - the model agent. The one with a perfect mission success rate. The one who is never distracted by anything as _stupid_ as fraternization. I used to get sick of hearing your name on our trainer's lips. Not everyone is married to the job like you are! Not everyone is strong enough not to fall in love with their partner okay? So I apologize again for the insubordination - but you will _never_ understand how I feel right now agent Barton," she said darkly. Clint inhaled a sharp breath.

Holy shit he did _not_ see that coming. He didn't know what to say - so he said the safest thing.

"Maybe not," he said guardedly, while giving nothing away. He couldn't comfort her without compromising his own partnership. Agent Lee finally looked away from his regretful face and stared daggers into wall. The message was clear - she was done talking to him. Clint took several deep calming breaths before he decided to make a swift exit.

"I'm sorry agent Lee. I'll leave you alone now," he said quietly rising to his feet and making his way over to the door. Something made him pause.

"Don't make the same mistake we did agent Barton," she said suddenly still staring at the dull grey wall in front of her. Clint stopped with his hand on the doorknob.

"Which one?" he asked carefully. She was hinting at the potentially illicit nature of his own partnership - but there was no proof. There were always rumours about opposite sex partners in SHIELD - but it didn't matter unless they royally screwed up - _then_ they went under scrutiny.

"The one he apologized for," she whispered finally. Clint sighed heavily.

"Good bye agent Lee," he said quietly as he slipped out of the conference room. He carefully shut the door behind him and closed his eyes as he heard the barest hint of a muffled sob emit from the other side of the door. He sighed and angrily rubbed his hands over his face. That was one of the _hardest_ things he has ever had to do as an agent.

When he finally opened his eyes he came face to face with his _own_ partner who was watching him with a cautious look in her eyes. His own eyes softened involuntarily as he drank her in. She read the urge to touch her in the tension in his arms, but swiftly stepped back before he could land them in _even_ more shit than they already were after the crazy few days they had. Clint instantly winced when he realized where they were. The covert nature of their relationship was too much for him sometimes - but it was better than the alternative. The alternative was losing her altogether. Clint took several deep breaths as he stared at the ground. He knew she was here to make sure he was okay. He finally got a hold of his emotions and managed to glance back up at her without dragging her body into his arms and crushing her to his chest - but just barely.

Almost losing her to a fatal bullet wound in her side and her blood on his hands was still too fresh in his mind.

"If you ever come close to dying again - I hope we go down together," he said quietly before he brushed passed her and headed towards the training rooms before anyone saw them standing too close to each other. He felt her silently follow behind him, but still kept a respectable distance. They didn't need any more rumours then there already were and they certainly didn't want to prove any rumors _right_.

But above all else he didn't _ever_ want someone sitting him down and telling him his partner had been killed in action.

Agent Lee was wrong - even the best agents can be compromised.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Poor agent Lee. Imagine if Clint woke up after Romania and Coulson told him Natasha had died. **

**You don't want to know what Clint would do in that scenario. You really don't. O.O**

**Yeah done with the angst from Romania I promise! That was the last loose end that needed wrapping up! Now we have some junior agents to whip into shape before I start the next mission.**

**Clintasha is going to..Paris.**

**Haha. Oh that is going to be fun. Wonder who their next target is?**


	119. Chapter 119

**I Dare You **

**A/N: Junior agents are coming...after we go back in time for one scene. Someone actually wanted to see what Natasha did with Conroy…so why not?**

**Side note: I completely understand why some people might not like the swearing in this story because I don't actually swear in real life (my mother would wash my mouth out with soap). Don't get me wrong, I don't endorse fowl language at all! Just like I don't endorse any of the wrong things Natasha and Clint get away with in this story - but that's the thing. It's a story. A controversial story about two people who are as far from squeaky clean as you can get. You are not supposed to agree with everything they say or do!…but um…after reading about someone getting their head blown up and several torture scenes of different characters (including Clintasha themselves getting seriously tortured)…is swearing really the worst thing in this story? It's T rated, not K - so they are allowed to swear. ****I'll try to cut back when it is unnecessary but still…they are **_**assassins**_**. They **_**kill**_** people. They say crude things sometimes, especially when they are angry…Sorry? :S**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 119 **

After her partner had basically told her to shoo, Natasha found herself standing in front of one of the most heavily armoured and padded research labs in the country.

The things the man who worked in this lab did were top secret and apparently extremely dangerous.

He was a weapons expert that had _Tony Stark_ of all people after his brain - of _course_ his inventions were dangerous.

Natasha knew she had about 20 minutes before Barton would talk with Agent Lee about whatever her archer wanted to get off his chest. He clearly looked like he was going to self combust if he didn't talk to this agent, so who was she to prevent him for relieving himself of whatever burden he was carrying?

That didn't mean she was above tagging him with a mike. Natasha adjusted the one way speaker in her ear as she knocked on the thick metal door in front of her.

Yeah she kept track of where her partner was - so sue her.

The lab door immediately swung open to reveal a messy dark haired Italian weapons expert covered in soot, dirt and other questionable substances.

"Natasha baby - it's been so _long_!" Conroy theatrically exclaimed as he opened his arms in a way that looked suspiciously like he was about to hug her. Natasha narrowed her eyes - she can't believe he just said that.

And like hell he was touching her covered in that _filth_.

"_Stop_," Natasha said with a raised hand and a ready gun in his face. Conroy promptly froze in place as he blinked at the gun. He glanced at her _if you touch me you die_ face and deflated.

"You're no fun Romanoff," he muttered as he turned around and shuffled into his lab. Natasha lowered her gun and slowly tucked it into her waistband as she cautiously followed him into his lab that was littered with junk, electronics and smoking weapon parts. If he could make half this junk work he was going to be her new best friend.

Don't tell Barton - he'd self-combust in jealousy.

"Don't take it personally. I don't like _anyone_ touching me Conroy - especially not when they look like they haven't showered…in ever," she said warily eyeing his dark shirt…that once upon a time must have been white. Conroy shrugged unconcernedly.

"Whatever Red - this here is _apparently_ a free country, so you can mandate personal space and all that jazz. What _I'm_ interested in is showing you my new invention! Have a seat..and don't touch anything if you don't want to explode, get shocked, burned, poisoned, castrated, hogtied, pulverized, crushed, damaged, blind, deaf, shot or tazed at your own risk - did I miss anything?" he asked as he glanced around at the suspiciously twitching and sparking junk just lying around and scratched the back of his head. Natasha blinked slowly as she tried to process that mouthful.

"I don't think so…?" she said slowly while feeling mildly overwhelmed by his…weirdness. Conroy instantly beamed at her - it completely caught her off guard. Normal men don't act like him. Scratch that - men don't act like this around _her_. He acted like she wasn't 3 times as dangerous as the weapons he was building, like she wasn't known for her killer seductress skills, like she wasn't a criminal that needs to be put down like a dog. He was like…an overhappy child. It was actually refreshing to finally talk to someone who wasn't her superior (and therefore obligate not to take her garbage) that saw past all the lies she spewed to keep agents off her back - someone who _wasn't_ her partner.

Because sometimes you need to talk to someone without a million strong conflicting emotions involved. Barton was a good friend - but he drove her crazy with all the issues they had surrounding the part of them that wasn't _just_ friends.

Conroy missed everything flying through her head and just continued to beam none the wiser.

"Good girl! You'll do great. Just give me _one_ second!" Conroy called over his shoulder as he started tossing random junk all over his lab and began to unscrew a behemoth of a big flashy gun off a mantle bolted to his work table.

Natasha stared at the massive gun that looked like it was made out of a blue and black circuit board pieces. Is _that_ what he is going to try and make her fire? She nearly jumped out of her seat when someone suddenly sneezed in her ear. Conroy paused and somehow caught the slight twitch in her shoulder which made him give her a suspicious look. She watched him search her face before he glanced at her ear.

Busted.

"Are you spying on your partner?" Conroy asked warily. Natasha instantly straightened up and fixed her posture.

"No - why would you think that?" she said as she crossed her legs and leaned forward out of ingrain instinct to go into distraction mode when she was nearly caught doing something that should have gone unnoticed. Conroy simply blinked.

"Honey don't be discouraged or let this lower your self-esteem - you're _beautiful_ - but I don't really swing for either team. So you should put those away before they hurt somebody," Conroy said while giving her exposed cleavage an uninterested glance before walking away. Natasha nearly fell on her face in shock.

Mad scientists…were just so damn _weird_.

She promptly fixed the too low zipper on her suit and found herself following after him in slight awe. Either he was insane or asking for trouble. He was interesting like Clint….but at the same time _nothing_ like Clint. She had no desire to shove Conroy into a closet and stick her tongue down his throat. Natasha cringed - now _that_ was an unpleasant image. Unless she replaced him with an archer - _then_ her imagination took that as a green light to take fantasy Barton and do extremely illicit things to him. Natasha paused as she backtracked and _stared_ at her mental runaway thoughts. Did she just think that?

Holy shit, she was _pathetic_. She has never fantasized about a man in her _life_. She had the real thing for god's sake!

What was wrong with her?

"Hello? Earth to Miss SHIELD agent," a familiar voice said from right in front of her while waving a hand in her face.

"I thought I told you my name was agent Romanoff?" Natasha said instantly coming back to the present and found herself staring at big fat goggled eyeballs watched her with a bemused expression.

"Do you zone out like that in the field?" he asked warily. Natasha's face instantly turned stony. No she did _not_.

"Do you want to know how many knives I have on me?" she asked threateningly. Conroy just crinkled his nose in distaste.

"You have not changed much since Italy I see Romanoff," he said warily. Natasha huffed.

"What were you expecting? Candies and roses and a band of Mexican mariachi musicians in oversized sombreros playing in the background?" she asked sarcastically. Conroy merely blinked and took her sarcasm in stride. Wow she was a firecracker indeed.

"I like you - you got sass," Conroy said warmly before going back to trying to remove the massive gun from its mounted spot.

Natasha instantly faltered when she clearly didn't intimidate him. Now she was just confused - what did he want? Everyone _always_ wanted something from her. Barton was the obvious exception - but he was _always_ the exception.

"You're the only one on this base seems to think that," she muttered darkly. Everyone else stayed clear of her when she was at SHIELD. She wasn't really known for getting along with other agents. Conroy raised an eyebrow and just looked overall ridiculous with his oversized goggles.

"Now I wouldn't say that. I think you must get along well enough with your partner to want to tag him," he said causally. Natasha bristled.

"I didn't tag him!" she instantly denied as she lied through her teeth. Conroy gave her a long dry look and pointed to the damnable evidence in her ear.

"That's a F-k66 speaker-only com in your ear. You're off duty. You've come down here clearly looking for a distraction. You're bored out of your mind. And now…now you have the distinct air of an assassin who is thinking about how to murder me and hide the body as fast as possible," he said pointing to her deceptively cold expression which had an intense rage simmering beneath it.

"_Conroy_…," Natasha hissed warningly. Conroy simply shrugged and spun his screw driver in the air.

"Ah the sound of a pissed Russian spy," Conroy said with a sigh as he turned away from her and shuffled around his lab. Natasha just stared at him.

How do you deal with truly insane men who are not afraid of anything?

"I give up," Natasha mutter in defeat before she sat down on a bench and placed her head in her arms against the table. She glanced up when something nudge her side and found a eager looking scientist poking her with the back of his massive suspiciously unstable gun.

When the last time anyone but Barton had the guts to poke the Russian assassin with a dangerous weapon?

"_Try it_," Conroy said with barely contained glee. Natasha watched in extreme caution as he urged her to take the flashing blue and black gun. She slowly accepted the weapon and felt the weight of it in her hand.

"What does it do exactly?" she asked carefully. Conroy snickered evilly. Natasha gave him another warning look.

If it blew up on her she would come back from the grave and haunt him for the rest of his pathetic life. Conroy just smirked.

"You'll see…but before you pull the trigger put this on," he said suddenly wary himself while holding out a gigantic heavy metal _welding_ mask for her to take. Natasha stared at him blankly.

"Are you serious?" she asked dryly. Conroy nodded solemnly.

"I lost my eyebrows the last time," he whispered conspiratorially while pushing the mask insistently into her hand. Natasha sighed - no wonder Barton had snapped at her about coming down here without him.

If she went back without her eyebrows he would kill her.

"Must have been quite a learning experience," Natasha said as she put the on the mask and then lifted the massive elephant-sized killer gun. She suddenly glanced at the excited weapons designer practically vibrating with anticipation beside her.

"Do I just pull the trigger like a normal gun?" she asked warily as they both stood behind an impenetrable glass shield while she pointed the gun through a carefully cut out hole in the middle of the clear glass. Conroy covered his ears and nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes - give it your best sort Red," he said as he ducked. Natasha tried to ignore the inner Barton voice in her head - he was like her conscience.

_What the hell do you think you're doing Tasha? Put the prototype gun down! Put it down before you kill yourself!_

She never listened to her partner - why would she start now?

_"_Too late Barton_," _she said calmly before she pulled the trigger and watched as a blue stream of light flashed across the room and completely _pulverized_ the dummy standing on the other side of the glass causing it to burst into ashes and sparks that looked suspiciously like fireworks. The ashes exploded into the air and rained down on them slowly.

"Wow…," they said at the same time. Natasha was severely impressed.

"Did you know it would do that?" she asked in disbelief. Conroy rapidly shook his head.

"No idea - it was supposed to immobilize large targets with a gentle shock…but that wasn't very gentle," he said thoughtfully as he held out his palm and caught a falling ash cloud in his open hand. Natasha was about to say _no shit_ it wasn't gentle when a sound suddenly echoed around her.

"_Agent Lee…,"_ a familiar solemn voice suddenly spoke in her ear. Natasha pause and promptly put the really cool gun down on the table beside her. Her time was up.

"It was nice coming down here Conroy. But I…have to go," she said cautiously moving towards the door. Conroy just glanced at the awkward Russian assassin and shrugged as he picked up his killer gun that wasn't really a stun gun just yet.

"Okay - bring him back with you next time," he said as he went right back to his tinkering - just like that. Natasha shook her head in awe as she opened the door. It was nice to know that there were still men out there who weren't completely perverted sleazy balls - other than her partner.

"Bye Conroy," she found herself saying quietly with a hint of fondness before she slipped out of the lab and started walking down the research hall.

"He sounds like a keeper to make you run to him like that!" Conroy shouted after her. Natasha instantly froze. He just had to ruin her good mood.

"_Shut up_ Conroy!" she shouted back instantly getting pissed off.

Ugh. She hated men - they never change.

.

.

.

.

.

.

5 minutes after listening in on her partner's entire conversation with agent Lee, agent Romanoff and agent Barton were walking towards the training rooms side by side - just like they are always meant to be.

"You tagged me," Clint said calmly out of nowhere. Natasha didn't even bat an eyelash or try to lie her way out of this one - he was holding the evidence literally in the palm of his hand. Lying was futile at this point.

"Yes," she said with even trying to deny her felony. Clint furrowed his brow.

"Did you not trust me Tasha?" he asked quietly with a hint of disappointment. He thought they had passed the suspicion stage. Natasha faltered and slowly shook her head.

"No, it's not that. I just wanted to make sure you came out of it…okay," she said warily. Clint blinked in surprise and then a slight smile pulled at the edge of his lips.

"You were _worried_ about me," he said with quiet amusement. Natasha instantly glared at him.

"I was a concerned partner looking out for your mental health because it is my _job_ - not worried," she hissed. Clint laughed lightly. What a failure of a cover story - one of her worst indeed.

"You're such a little liar Romanoff," Clint said with a grin. _You were worrying your ass off. _Natasha practically started seething in rage.

"You are an ass Barton," she growled before she promptly looked away from him. Clint watched her warmly as she determinedly ignored him after that.

"Who's soft now?" he whispered knowingly as they got closer to the training rooms. She stiffened.

Busted.

Clint smiled victoriously to himself. _You got played at your own game Romanoff._ Clint was still in a good mood as they rounded the corner and caught sight of their handler.

"Hey Coulson," Clint said with a gigantic grin on his face. Coulson nodded in acknowledgement but gave him a suspicious look in return.

Barton was _way_ too happy at the moment - it was unnervingly.

"Barton. Romanoff. Follow me," Coulson said warily as he spun around and walked into a room beside the largest SHIELD training room they were going to use today. They both shared a wary look before they followed after their handler. They all walked into a long room that ran the length of the massive football field sized underground training room - one side was a one way window wall of glass viewing into the training room.

"This is where new agents are evaluated from," Natasha said insightfully as she glanced around at all the monitors and chairs. Coulson nodded.

"Yes, agents who are trained through the initiation program. Agents like you…not so much," Coulson said warily giving the Russian a pointed look. _You're the odd case - that's what you are._ Natasha raised an eyebrow.

"Am I special?" Natasha said with amusement dancing in her eyes. Clint rolled _his_ eyes. Special his ass - she had been on their top ten threat list for god's sake.

"Coulson get on with things - you are unnecessarily pumping her ego. And trust me - she has the biggest ego in this building," Clint said flatly -he stayed calm even if he knew what was coming.

_BAM!_

He doubled over as a sharp elbow instantly _jabbed_ him in the stomach. He had injured the Widow's ego - _yes!_

"So…worth it," he gasped as his clutched his bruised stomach in pain. Natasha was the picture of icy professional after that.

"Why are we here?" Natasha asked calmly while her partner nearly kneeled over beside her. Coulson gave their ridiculous antics an unimpressed look.

"To get a stern warning. They are going to be good SHIELD agents. We only take in the ones we think would succeed in the first place. They know how to fight and have specific skill sets. 4 out of 6 of them came straight out of the military. The only thing they need from you two is direction and focus. Also…they need _their_ egos brought down a few notches before we send them into the field and they get slapped in the face by the harsh reality of SHIELD work," Coulson said steadily and professionally. Natasha instantly looked agreeable to that.

"I can do that," she said with a smirk that made her look like a killer _shark_. Coulson narrowed his eyes at both of them - but mostly Clint. Clint gaped - why was he putting all the heat on _him_?

"You will _not_ kill any of them - not even on accident. Understood?" Coulson said very seriously. Clint raised an eyebrow. Coulson narrowed his own.

"Don't give me your fuzzy eyebrows Barton - I don't trust either of you. So you better behave or I will drown you both in so much paperwork you will have nightmares about paper cuts and paper dust allergies for the rest of your pathetic lives," Coulson said threateningly. They both blinked - wow.

Natasha clapped slowly.

"I have to say Coulson - you are the only man who has ever had the balls to threaten me with excruciatingly dull and boring paperwork. And I'll be honest - I'll play nice just because of you. Have a good day," Natasha said casually before she spun around and walked down the long evaluation room towards the exit leading into the training room. Coulson and Clint both stared after her. The handler instantly rounded on the archer with accusing eyes.

"What did you say to her?" Coulson asked suspiciously. Clint was all smiles and innocence.

"Nothing Sir," Clint said with a suspicious glint in his eyes. Coulson narrowed his own and promptly stabbed him in the shoulder with a pen and Clint's innocent expression instantly turned into agony.

"_AH_! What is it with you people and stabbing me with pens today?" Clint asked in disbelief as he grabbed his arm in pain.

At least it wasn't a tazer pen - that had just been cruel.

"If any one of them is traumatized - it's _your_ fault," Coulson said warningly - Clint knew he was dead serious.

"Why am I responsible for her?" Clint muttered as he rubbed his injured shoulder. Coulson gave him a sharp glare.

"She is _your_ partner. _You're_ the one who brought in a highly dangerous Russian assassin - deal with her," Coulson said with a pointed look. Clint practically sulked as he started to stalk away - but something in Coulson's tone made him freeze.

"And Barton?" Coulson said darkly, suddenly switching from simply annoyed handler to severely infuriated friend in a flash. Clint froze in place and felt every nerve in his body tense up at that tone.

_Oh shit,_ Clint thought. What did he do to deserve that tone?

"Yes Coulson?" Clint said keeping his voice even and steady - even though inside he felt like he was being held at gunpoint and no escape plan in sight. He felt Coulson tightly grasp his shoulder and Clint nearly fainted in fear - of _paperwork_.

_What did I do damn it?_

"Don't you _ever_ make her lie to me again," Coulson said warningly in his ear before he spun around and stalked away. Clint sharply inhaled a deep breath and nearly collapsed right then and there - his handler was _scary_.

Damn that man had skills.

"He just owned your ass," Natasha said flatly as she appeared beside him. Clint glared at her. This was all her fault - she didn't lie well enough.

"He did _not_ just own my ass," Clint muttered. Natasha raised an eyebrow and pointed at the smug retreating back of their handler with a blank look. They both watched Coulson fix his suit before he rounded the corner with the most scary calm professional expression on his face. Natasha looked back at her partner and gave him a plain _you just got your ego smashed _look.

"_That_ was him owning your ass," she said frankly. Clint just scowled at her. She was so mean to him and his poor male ego (then again he had just finished making fun of her own).

"Can we stop talking about Coulson and my ass?" he asked heatedly as he clenched his jaw in irritation.

Natasha's eyebrows hit the roof.

Clint spectacularly _paled_ in response to her clearly dirty mind.

"_You_ went there - not me," Natasha said immediately putting her hands up and backing away from him like he had damn cooties or something. Clint felt insulted - he didn't see her complaining about being near him when she was tightly wrapped in his arms the entire damn night long - she was such as cruel beast. The slight smirk on her lips did it.

"I'm _not_ gay!" Clint shouted in alarm. This argument was stupid and just pointless - and they both knew it. Natasha snickered anyway - she actually _snickered_ in response to his deadly red ears and enraged expression. He was getting worked up for no reason.

Oh he better be.

"Oh trust me I _know_," she said casually as she brushed passed him. Clint thought she was just going to walk away from him and leave him frustrated and thoroughly embarrassed - but he was wrong. In a split second she tightly grabbed him by his collar and nearly choked him to death as she roughly shoved him into the wall and gave him the sharp _you would be dead if you were anyone else_ glare.

"Because if you turned out gay I'd cut your dick off and take it on holiday with me while you sit here and cry buckets of tears, wishing you never met a Russian assassin and got involved with her in your cheap pathetic American _life_," Natasha whispered threateningly in his ear before she released his uniform and _then_ walked away. Clint gasped in deep breaths of air as he slid down the wall in shock. What the heck just happened? Natasha's eyes steeled as she stalked across the room to drop her real gun on the table before she killed someone important. After all the emotional _crap_ he put her through he better _off_ himself before he _ever_ told her he was gay - before she got her hands on him and shoved him off a cliff and killed him _herself_.

Clint spoke when he finally got control of his runaway breath.

"Oh my _god_, woman. You evil Russian _beast, _you nearly gave me heart attack Tasha," he groaned as he opened his eyes and found her silently waiting in front of him.

"It's what you get for overreacting," she muttered as she held her hand out to pull him to his feet. Clint huffed and turned his head away from her.

"I don't think I want to take your dirty Russian hand," he said childishly. Natasha frowned and started retracting her offer, but felt him instantly grab her hand to stop her in place. She gave him a questioning look while he gave her a pointed one it return.

"You know I didn't mean that Tasha," he said quietly as he brushed his thumb over her steady pulse. They played dangerous games with each other - but it was never serious. Natasha sighed. Of course she knew.

"How are we playing this exactly?" she asked warily. Clint thought about that for a second.

"How do you want this to go?" he asked back. Natasha considered their options as she pulled him off the ground.

"Good cop," she pointed to him. "Bad cop," she pointed to herself. Clint balked.

"Why do _you_ get to be the bad cop?" Clint asked incredulously.

Natasha stared at him.

She continued to stare.

When her staring got too intense he finally relented.

"Okay. I'm not even going to go there," he muttered reluctantly. Natasha snorted and stopped her uncomfortable staring.

"Smart choice," she said simply before she glanced through the window beside them and watched the 6 agents they were going to break today talk to each other while sitting on a bench facing away from the two of them.

"We're not just walking in there are we?" Clint asked wryly. Natasha slowly shook her head.

"No. Lesson number one - never be unaware of your surroundings," Natasha with a peculiar look in her eyes as she smiled at him mysteriously before spinning on her heels and walking away.

Clint did _not_ look half as amused as she did.

"You're going to have too much fun with this - I can tell," Clint said in an tone full of dread as he followed behind her.

She had the air of a Widow on the hunt.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Chapter was too long because of the Conroy scene! I APOLOGIZE! I had to cut it in half again sorry! I PROMISE we start right off the bat with junior agents in the next chapter. Natasha is going to scare them into an early grave! **

**I made this chapter funny after so many angst and emotional chapters! Was it a nice change? **


	120. Chapter 120

**I Dare You **

**A/N: seriously...so much fun. I like fun. Angst is just better character depth - but I like fun once in a while. **

**I put in a whole crap full of Avengers References - let me know if you spot them. **

**HINT: How well do you know your Avengers actors? **

**I bet Clintasha has it in them to be epic trolls - but still good instructors. **

**I would like to point out that once upon a time - I was an epic crack humour writer on fanfiction.**

**NOW THE CHAPTER YOU HAVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR! **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 120**

It was 11:17 am and 6 junior agents were irritably waiting for their unusual instructors who were late - _again_. Currently none of them were impressed with the terrifying assassin duo's latest stand up.

"Seriously. They stood us up yesterday and now they are doing it again. Why do we have to get a training lesson from two agents who won't even show up on time?" one of the dark haired male agents asked irritably as he kicked his training bag with his boot. Nobody had time to respond because of what happened next. They all froze when the red alert lights flashed above their heads and they heard every door leading into the training room instantly lock them in together.

_SLAM._

They all watched the last entrance into the room seal shut in front of them.

They were effectively trapped.

"What on earth is going on?" one of the ginger female agents said suspiciously glancing around at their trapped state. They all stood up and reached for their guns as they wondered where the threat was inside the base. The ginger agent cautiously stepped back away from the group of tense agents and her eyes widened as her back hit a solid firm chest.

Oh shit.

"_Don't scream darling_," a deeply calm but terrifying voice rumbled in her ear. The ginger agent instantly paled.

"_Ahhh_!" she screamed right before a large warm hand clamped over her mouth and silenced her just as the lights went out and they were all basked in darkness. The rest of the 5 agents were left in a cold sweat and fear clawing at their throats.

"Who screamed? Where did she go?" one of the agents asked in terror.

Talk about not being traumatized.

It was a like a really _bad_ horror film.

They all tensed as the alarm kept going but the red lights were no longer flashing. They heard something clatter to the floor behind them and instantly spun around to search the darkness to located the source.

"What's that?" one of them whispered guardedly. They all stuck their hands out to locate each other and come closer together. As soon as they managed that their feet were promptly knocked out from beneath them and they found themselves being shoved into a net like structure before being yanked up to the ceiling.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING _ON_?" one of them shouted in frustration. They all instantly shut up as several things happened at once.

The lights turned on. The red alert sirens ceased. The doors all around the training room unlocked with a resounding _click_.

And then there were two specialized SHIELD agents standing in the center of the training room dressed in perfectly pressed SHIELD uniforms and their hands clasped suspiciously behind their backs.

Hawkeye and Black Widow were here and ready to rumble.

"Hello agents - how are you doing up there?" Natasha called out as she leaned forward and tilted her head to the side as she stared up at the ungraceful jumble of limbs that just happened to be the agents they were meant to train today.

"What the hell do you think you're doing you crazy _bitch_?" one of the rougher agents bellowed through the jumbled mess of limbs. Natasha raised a single perfectly groomed red eyebrow and instantly locked eyes with the potty-mouthed agent.

"Tsk. Tsk. I would think you had better manners then that considering this is one highly prestigious organization you plan to work for," she said warily. She was lying through her teeth of course. SHIELD was a prominent world player - but it wasn't well know because they prefer to operate from the shadows. The anonymity is helpful more times than it is not. These agents were handpicked for the field- but they needed to be sharper and roughened up a bit.

Someone suddenly snorted behind her - too low for the juniors to hear but _she_ definitely picked it up. Natasha promptly stepped back and viciously _stomped_ on her partner's toes at an angle that none of the hanging agents could see - they were too preoccupied with trying to escape anyway to notice. The satisfying hiss of pain he let out was enough to get the message across.

She would shoot him if he cramped her style.

"You don't know us!" the same agent hissed in fury as he doubled his efforts to get them out of the ridiculous rope net holding them all hostage in air. Natasha shook her head and gave him a clearly fake apologetic look.

"Oh but I do. Agent Hiddleston, Agent Evans, Agent Gregg, Agent Downey, Agent Smulders and Agent Paltrow," Natasha said calmly as she listed all their names as she made eye contact with every single last one of them. They all froze in shock.

How did she know their _names_?

Clint sighed from beside his partner who was currently in _terrify the target_ mode. This is why she did background checks on them this morning while in their bed - to intimidate them.

Damn his partner was scarily prepared. Never say that the Black Widow didn't keep agent Barton's life interesting.

"How the hell does she know our names?" agent Hiddleston asked his fellow trapped agents in disbelief. They all looked equally flabbergasted. Natasha smirked like a _shark_ - it made the juniors even _more_ terrified then they already were. Natasha finally tore her man-eating expression away from the petrified agents and gave her partner a look.

"Agent Barton - what do you think is appropriate punishment for failing a test? 10 mile run? Being used as your target practice? Withstanding extreme environments?" she asked innocently. Clint sighed. She was so dramatic - and _sadistic_. Never forget sadistic.

"I think you should let them down now - considering the fact that they're never going to forget this experience of what happens when they are not always aware of their surroundings. Right agents?" Clint asked professionally while giving her a point look. _Don't traumatize them before the training even started_. Natasha just sighed and relented.

"If you believe it is best - by all means let them down," Natasha muttered with an upward wave of her hand in the direction of the messy net of trapped junior agents. They all promptly sighed in _relief_.

They were _saved_.

"_Thank you_! At least one of them is not a psychotic bitch," Hiddleston muttered under his breath.

Clint shoot Natasha a sharp killer glare. Not for the reason that you made think.

_I hate you for making me the reasonable one. _

Why does she get to have all the fun?

Natasha returned his glare with a narrow eyed _bitch please_ look.

_Go fuck yourself and deal with it. _

Clint grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like _no wonder Americans don't like Russians,_ under his breath as he pulled out a knife and unceremoniously swung it around and sliced right through the rope holding them up without giving them a single warning.

He _refused_ to be the good cop the entire time.

"_AHHHHHHHH_!" 6 voices instantly shouted as they all crashed to the ground in one big mess of agents.

_OMHPH!_

The sound of several painful groans filled the room.

"A little gentler next time would be nice," agent Smulders muttered while irritably rubbing her shoulder as she dragged herself out of the groaning mess of limbs. She stopped crawling away instantly when a pair of dark boots entered her direct line of sight. She carefully looked up and found steady blue eyes watching her.

"If you are all caught off guard that easily in the field agent Smulders, there won't be a next time," Clint said carefully before he held out his hand for her to take. Agent Smulders gave him a suspicious look before she finally accepted his offer and he pulled her off the ground.

He felt a dark aura behind him as a specific redhead bristled silently and he grinned like a Cheshire cat.

His partner was getting pissed the longer he held the female junior agent's hand. Really, _really_ pissed.

_Score_.

"We'll be better prepared from now on," agent Smulders mumbled before she quickly extracted her hand from his loose grasp and glanced over her shoulder to watch the rest of her fellow junior agents try and extract themselves from the epic fail pile of agents trapped in the mess of ropes. The threatening eyes on his back instantly disappeared and Clint chuckled lightly.

Talk about possessive.

Meanwhile, the rest of the agents _finally _ managed to untangle themselves and jumped to their feet with matching pissed expressions on their faces.

"That wasn't fair - we weren't expecting an attack while in training!" agent Downey said while waving his hands in outrage. Clint raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms across his chest.

"You should always be ready for an attack," he said calmly. Agent Downey bristled under his deprecating words and instantly lunged at the calm and cool archer with the intent to punch him.

He never got that far.

Clint instantly leaned to the side and let Downey's wild punch slide right passed his cheek before he knocked the agent off balanced with a sweep of his foot. Downey swore as he stumbled forward and knocked right into the archer that was standing still as stone. As Downey fell towards the ground Clint instantly grabbed him by the back of his shirt in a vice like grip to stop him from falling on his face. Clint smirked as he felt the agent tense up in fear.

He _better_ be scared.

"Don't crash into your enemy if you can help it - you'll regret it," Clint said calmly as he curled his left hand into a fist.

Agent Downey _gasped_ as Hawkeye's fist instantly made direct contact with his stomach. _That_ is going to leave a bruise he will never forget - on his ego.

_BAM_!

"As my partner would say - _checkmate_," Clint whispered in his ear before he abruptly dropped the boy to the floor and watched him groan as he rolled over and clutched his stomach in pain. Clint slowly stood up to his full height and shook his head at the moaning mess of a pathetic boy.

"Downey you have just been taught a valuable lesson - you should learn from this," Clint said as he brushed a small amount of Downey's spit off his uniform with a straight face that was _so_ utterly composed that it installed even _more_ fear in the hearts of the juniors agents then his partner did mere minutes before him.

And he was supposed to be the _nice_ one?

"How did he do that?" agent Evans asked in awe. Agent Gregg shook his head at the idiot moaning on the floor.

"Hawkeye has been a SHIELD agent for over 5 years - of course he would kick his ass," agent Gregg muttered beside him. Clint caught their whispering and instantly stepped away from the whining pile of beaten ego on the ground and spun around.

"_Wrong_," Clint said instantly singling agent Gregg out. Everyone immediately stopped talking and stared at them. "Doesn't matter how long you've been an agent - matters how much experience you have. That's why agent Romanoff is my partner - and you are all in training," Clint said simply, gesturing to all the junior agents staring at him in disbelief. Some of them clearly did not learn enough from agent Downey's humiliation because the next thing one of them said nearly signed them all a death warrant.

"What do you do? Just sit back and watch her turn up her seduction skills and _charm_ targets into killing themselves?" agent Hiddleston asked haughtily. Clint felt Natasha grow incredibly still beside him and sighed when she gave him _the look_.

Let me skin him alive with a dull butter knife, _please_.

"No," Clint said curtly. He could read _exactly_ what had been on her mind just from her eyes. Natasha continued to stare at him.

"Let me do some roughening up _too_ then," she muttered giving the moaning mess _he_ left in the corner a pointed look.

"What are you two mumbling about?" Agent Hiddleston asked thoroughly frustrated that he couldn't heard what they were saying - and _not_ saying for that matter.

Clint sighed. Clearly they weren't going to sit down and listen to them yet.

"By all means," Clint said gesturing towards the sparring mats. Natasha raised an eyebrow.

"_All_ means?" she asked warily. Clint gave her a blank look.

"Alive, Romanoff - _alive_," he stressed with a warning look. Natasha huffed before she walked over to the sparring mats in the center of the room. She removed several knives from her person and tossed them all to the side of the mats.

_Now_ she was unarmed - but it was still not going to be a fair fight unless someone _severely_ handicapped her.

"Want to put your money where your mouth is Hiddleston?" Natasha said and she cracked her knuckles and gave him a sharp _come at me_ _you little bastard_ smile.

_Yes! I taught her that American phrase_, Clint thought victoriously as he mentally did a fist pump.

"Psh. You're only 2 years older than me Romanoff - I can take you cupcake," Hiddleston said while arrogantly swaggering over towards the mats. He started bouncing on the heels of his boots as Natasha just stood there and stared at his little ego show. Hiddleston spat on the ground and sneered at her.

"Black Widow doesn't seem so deadly in person now does she? All a big myth I bet. You're so tiny and fragile looking. How much damage can you really to do to a full blown man? I bet Hawkeye protects your tight little ass all the time in the field doesn't he? Always having to look out for his pretty little trophy spider," Hiddleston taunted with a disgusting _leer._

Clint covered his face with his hands and _groaned_ as he tugged at his hair in frustration. He was trying so hard to keep these idiots _alive_.

Dead kid - you're _dead_.

She is a hundred times worse than getting your ass kicked by Hawkeye.

Natasha just watched the kid dig himself a deeper hole with every word pouring out from his filthy lips as she stood there with a blank expression.

"Then stop squawking and come at me you _arrogant piece of shit_," she deadpanned. Everyone inhaled a sharp breath - did she really just say that?

Yes she did - _deal_ with it.

Hiddleston narrowed his eyes and instantly shot forward to use his larger body mass against her. Natasha just waited until he was inches from making contact with her before she instantly ducked and kicked him in the knees, forcing him to straighten up on reflex and stumbled through his momentum. She roughly grabbed him by the front of his shirt and flashed him a hellish smirk that bleed _fire_.

"Widows _bite_," she whispered in a seductive murmur right before she _smashed_ her forehead against his face and broke his nose with a sickening _crack_! They all watched him collapse to the floor before Natasha brutally _kicked_ him in the side to force him to roll over onto his stomach as he groaned. She promptly sat on his back before she reached under him and started unbuckling the agent's belt.

"Natasha what are doing…?" Clint asked carefully from behind her.

"Don't rush me Barton," Natasha said flippantly before she yanked the belt right off the poor bleeding bastard's waist. She roughly pinned his arms behind his back before tying his wrists together with his own damn belt. _Now_ he was going home with his pants falling to his knees and no dignity in sight.

"What are you do-_lfsljdgdskgjls_," Hiddleston _tried_ to protest, but was silenced by his own dirty brown sock being shoved into his matching dirty mouth - she stole that one from his pocket.

That was how to hogtie and shut up a potty-mouthed junior.

When Natasha was done she stood up and _spat_ on her hand to wipe the poor sucker's blood off her skin and casually glance over her shoulder to see 5 junior agents shaking in terror.

Traumatized would be a _gross_ understatement.

The message was clear - don't underestimate the Widow. It is a sacred rule at SHIELD every new agent is supposed to learn and follow.

"Anyone else have something they'd like to say?" Natasha asked calmly stepping over the spasming agent lying on the ground like a poor helpless turtle and coming to stand beside her equally calm partner. Everyone was thinking one thing and one thing only.

They were insane.

Well - _no shit_. No reason to deny the obvious.

Everyone just continued to silently stare at the scene in shock. Clint instantly clicked a button on a stopwatch in his hand and took a casual glance at the time.

"15 seconds - I'm actually surprised you lasted that long. Good try agent Hiddleston," Clint said encouragingly, before he glanced up at his partner with a questioning look. She gave him a half shrug in response.

She went easy on him - _duh_.

Natasha gracefully spun around to face the rest of the agents and gave them all a pointed stare.

"Take a second to really consider why we are even bothering to do this. We're here to give you firsthand experience of what it's like in the field. If you listen to us - you'll learn something. If you choose not to listen - we'll just continue kicking your ass one by one until you _bleed_ and turn the blue mats red. So which is it going to be?" Natasha asked with a no nonsense expression.

The 4 junior agents left standing trembled in fear.

"What do you want us to do?" agent Evans asked hesitantly. Natasha gave him a sharp smile that made him feel even _more_ threatened - not less.

"How fast can you run?" Natasha asked simply.

"Why would you need to know that?" agent Gregg asked carefully. Clint chuckled.

"Oh we don't need to know - _you_ need to know. Trust us - running fast is going to save your lives. So, _start running_," Clint said while twirling a gun innocently in his hand. They all stared at him in disbelief. This was supposed to be combat training for _god's_ sake.

"Are you serious?" agent Smulders asked in disbelief. Clint hummed a wordless song as he continued to spin the gun in his hand - when he suddenly _stopped_ spinning it they all froze.

"What are you waiting for? A warning shot?" Clint asked curiously, while setting his gun to fire and clicking the safety off. That instantly got 5 pairs of feet moving as they flew past the two senior SHIELD agents and started making laps around the training room at insane speeds. Agent Downey instantly dropped to his knees beside his terrified soon to be partner squealing on the ground and quickly freed him from the makeshift belt bonds.

"Never say I never saved your ass Hiddleston," Downey hissed before he started running too. Hiddleston stumbled as he picked up his falling pants and quickly started hobbling after his fellow junior agents while trying to get his belt back on so that he wasn't dragging his pants hanging against his ankles.

Natasha instantly took a seat on the bench behind her and cupped her head in her hand as she watched the juniors run like the wind. They were finally listening to them - there was no reason to kick their ass anymore.

Now she was bored.

"How long are we going to make them run for?" Natasha asked a little disappointed that he hadn't come up with a more fun idea. Just watching them run hadn't been her plan. Clint snorted as he took a seat beside her.

"Give me your gun agent Romanoff," he said calmly. Natasha glanced at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Are you confiscating my affects _agent_ Barton?" she asked dryly._ As if she wouldn't have a back up gun even if he took this one. _Clint chuckled and shook his head.

"Hardly - I'm just upgrading you is all," he said before he held out a new gun that looked suspiciously like it was a fake. She slowly handed him her real baby and reluctantly accepted the replacement - it was _heavy_.

Natasha stared at him.

"What _is_ this?" she asked suspiciously. Clint flashed her a mysterious smile that he learned from _her_.

"A paint ball gun," he said with a complete dead serious straight face. Natasha blinked before she slowly glanced down at the embarrassment of a weapon sitting in the palm of her hand.

"You want me to shoot at them with this?" she asked slowly.

"Oh dear _god _no," agent Evans exclaimed in horror as he passed the two chatting assassins before he started running even _faster_ - and he was already ahead of the rest of them but nearly 50 meters.

She glanced back at her partner and found him sitting there with a whistle in his hand. Where did he get all this stuff anyway?

"Ready Tasha?" he asked without looking at her. Natasha picked up the paint ball gun and finally caught on to where he was going with this.

Oh this was going to be fun.

"How badly do you want me to bruise their egos?" Natasha asked while trying to mask the _evil_ glee in her voice - Clint still caught it anyway and rolled his eyes.

"Badly enough - but don't kill them," he said warningly. Natasha gave him an innocent expression.

"How would I do that with a paint ball gun Barton?" she asked while batting her eyelashes at him. Clint promptly covered her eyes to stop the annoying eye batting she was doing.

"Don't give me the eyes Natasha. I wouldn't put it past you to turn that into a killing machine," he muttered before he removed his hand and found her giving him a slight smirk before she tightly gripped the paintball gun. He sighed before turning his attention back towards the 6 junior agents still running like the fires of hell were licking at their heels.

"Are you guys ready for some _pressure_?" Clint shouted across the room.

"_NO_!" 6 angry voices shouted back.

"Too bad!" Clint called out as he held up his whistle. "_Suckers_," he said under his breath with a devilish smirk.

"Let em have it agent Romanoff," Clint said before he promptly blew his whistle.

"With pleasure agent Barton," she said calmly before she put both hands on the gun and fired.

_BANG! SPLAT!_

_BANG! SPLAT!_

"This is the worst training session _ever_!" agent Downey and agent Hiddleston shouted in unison as they both fell on their faces on impact.

"Run faster!" the rest of the agents cried as they picked up the pace and promptly ran passed their fallen comrades.

_20 minutes later._

6 agents were still running but this time _every_ single last one of them was covered in red paint from head to toe.

"How many more times can they die?" Clint asked as he tried to stifle his laughter with his fist in his mouth. Natasha shrugged half heartedly. She had already hit them all in enough vital regions for them to be dead about 50 times over.

"Did you all have enough?" Natasha shouted with a raised eyebrow. The juniors all _stared_ at her in disbelief.

6 resounding "Yes god damn it!" were her answer. Natasha finally put the paint ball gun down on the bench between her and her partner before she stood up.

"Good - let's have a break, and then we'll do this again," Natasha said simply before she spun around and stalked away. Clint sighed heavily as he put his hands against his knees and pushed himself up as well.

"You're a _slave_ driver Tasha," Clint muttered as he followed after her as 6 tired bodies instantly dropped to the floor in exhaustion behind them in large puddle of red 'blood'.

They were going to kill _themselves_ at this rate.

.

.

.

.

.

.

30 minutes later 6 clean and showered junior agents were sitting on the floor of the currently messed up training room with their two senior agent instructors and surprisingly managed to eat lunch without anyone killing anyone else. Agent Hiddleston had a large bandage on his nose, agent Downey was nursing his injured ego beside him and both of them were sitting as far away as they could from the two infamous SHIELD employed-assassins currently on base. Clint and Natasha gladly ignored them as they conversed with the rest of the agents.

Lunch time was apparently the sacred truce time.

"Can I ask you a question?" agent Evans asked while giving Clint a hesitant look. Clint shrugged as he picked up his sandwich he had bought from the SHIELD cafeteria.

"Well that depends on the question," he said warily. Evans scratched the back of his head before he just went for it.

"Is it…is it true you two almost died in Romania and got hospitalized for 2 months?" he asked quietly.

Clint and Natasha both tensed.

That was still a sensitive topic for both of them. Agent Smulders seemed to catch that vibe too.

"_Evans_," she hissed giving him a sharp _have you no tact?_ look. Agent Evans instantly looked ashamed.

"Sorry. I-I was just-," he started to apologize but stopped when Clint gently cut him off.

"No, it's okay. Yes, we were out of commission for a couple months - but we're going back soon," Clint said before taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out.

Natasha almost died, _he_ almost died, their partnership almost fell apart when they both woke up from static sleep - but they _survived_ by the skin of their teeth and that was all that mattered to him now.

"You guys are a really popular team they talk about in the mess hall," agent Gregg suddenly spoke up out of nowhere. Natasha glanced at him as she continued eating her egg salad sandwich.

"Are we?" she said warily. He nodded hesitantly.

"Yes. Agents make up a whole host of rumours about you two," he said quietly. Clint paused in the motion of taking a bite out of his own sandwich and looked up.

"_Really_?" he said with just as much wariness as his partner. Agent Downey looked like he was about to burst - before he just spat out when he wanted to ask.

"Are you two…you know?" Downey said making awkward kissing hand gestures.

Natasha and Clint both glanced at each other and shared a dry look.

"_Nope_," they said at the same time in the same dead bored tone before they both looked away and continued to eat their lunch. 6 eyes blinked at them.

"Not even a little?" agent Hiddleston asked suspiciously. Clint raised a steady eyebrow.

"Do we need to quote fraternization regulation at you agent Hiddleston?" he asked with a pointed stare. Hiddleston held his stare and narrowed his eyes. Clint increased the intensity of his stare. Hiddleston stared to sweat. Clint increased the intensity in his blue sniper eyes _even_ more. Hiddleston huffed and finally looked away.

"Whatever. Losers," he muttered under his breath. Agent Paltrow promptly pinched him.

"_Ow_!" he said in disbelief as he held his injured arm. She glared at him.

"Behave in front of our instructors," she hissed at him. Hiddleston grumbled some more but promptly ceased in his attempts to grill their temporary trainers. Clint and Natasha just sat beside each other with their current 'pupils' and just silently ate their lunch as they watched the rowdy group of juniors rib each other for all they were worth.

Lying through their teeth was their specialty.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

_12 hours later. _

"I am _exhausted_," Natasha grumbled before she promptly fell flat on her face onto her bed and sprawled out across the entire thing - leaving no room for any archers in need of sleep.

"Oi - move over. I'm _more_ exhausted then you are - I had to train them _and_ watch you," Clint grumbled back before he promptly grabbed her by the waist to pick her up and shove her over so that he could collapsed onto the bed bedside her. Natasha just buried her face in her pillow and groaned in exhaustion.

Training junior recruits required an _insane_ amount of stamina.

"Why do we always end up in _my_ room?" Natasha complained petulantly into her pillow. She felt Clint shrug beside her, but she was too tired to actually turn to _look_ at him. She sharply _poked_ him in the head and he grabbed her hand in retaliation to stop her annoying poking. Instead of letting her go he flipped her hand around and laced their fingers together so that he could just hold onto her. She didn't let go.

"You're room is closer to the front door," Clint finally muttered back honestly. That was pretty much the only reason - their rooms were practically identically considering the fact that they barely used this place until recently. They were both quiet for a few moments as Clint rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb.

"One more week and we get to go back into the field," she said suddenly. Clint _hmmed_ into his own pillow.

"Wonder where we're going next," he said tiredly. Natasha finally turned her head to face him and narrowed her eyes.

"I really don't care," she said firmly. Clint opened one eye and watched her.

"Tired of being grounded stateside already?" he teased as he squeezed her hand gently. Natasha huffed.

"I just hate sitting around waiting to get older and doing nothing all day Barton," she said irritably. Clint sighed and nodded.

"I'm not actually arguing with you. I like being in the action too," he said simply. _It's all I've ever known how to do. It's the only way I know how to live. _

"People say a whole lot of _shit_ about us," she said suddenly letting go of his hand and flipping over onto her side to face away from him. Clint lifted himself off his pillow and furrowed his brow at her odd reaction. He slowly reached over to touch her face and turn her back towards him.

"So? Let them say a whole lot of shit - it doesn't matter. It shouldn't matter," he said firmly as he stroked her cheek. Natasha still looked guarded and closed off.

"Don't you ever want to go up the ladder in your organization Barton?" she asked carefully as she stared at the wall behind him. Clint fiercely shook his head.

"No - _never_," he said firmly. Natasha's eyes steeled.

"Are you saying that because this is the position you want…or because of _me_?" she asked tightly. She'd kick his _ass_ if he just settled for this job because of her. Clint promptly sat up and leaned over her to grab her face and force her to look at him.

"I have _no_ desire to be agent Kiel and agent Lee," he said seriously as he held her face between the palm of his hands. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"And what is that?" Natasha asked cautiously. Clint's eyes grew sad.

"Two people who chose their jobs over each other," he said quietly. Natasha sighed tried to look away but he wouldn't let her.

"So what are you going to do? Stay a field agent for the rest of your life?" she asked bitterly as she avoided direct eye contact. Clint gave her a weird look but answered her anyway.

"As a field agent I can have my job _and_ you. I told you a long time ago that I needed both - I still do. So I'm completely content to stay where I am," he said honestly. Natasha still didn't look convinced - he didn't know what was going through her head at the moment to get her stuck in a corner like this.

"And what if 5 years down the road, 10 years down the road, being a field agent won't be enough anymore?" she asked guardedly. Clint sighed and shook his head as he brushed her red hair out of her eyes.

"Trust me. You'll always be enough Tasha. As long as we stay partners, I'll be happy here," he said sincerely. Natasha searched his eyes for any lies but all she saw was honesty - it was ironic that they tried so hard to be honest with each other, especially when they were constantly lying to everyone else around them.

"Today was fun," she finally said quietly. Clint laughed lightly.

"Yeah, today was fun," he agreed warmly. Crazy juniors and all.

"I don't have a lot of these kinds of days," she said hesitantly. Clint smiled knowingly but with a hint of sadness. One of the things that was great about him was that he didn't bring things up when he knew she didn't want to talk about them - not unless it was absolutely necessary. Some things are better left unsaid. Some things are better left in the past.

If only the past was that easy to get rid of.

"I'll try to make sure we have more days like today. Life is not _all_ bad Tasha," he said softly as he pressed a light kiss against her lips, before dragging her into a tight embrace with his arm around her waist and her back against his chest.

"No - it's not all bad," she agreed quietly as she settled against him. _I used to think it was all bad._ _I used to think there was no way to be happy. I used to think that waking up and going to sleep were just the moments between different nightmares. I used to think life was just a cruel joke with nothing worth living for in it. _

"There's no rush. We have the whole world ahead of us Tasha," he mumbled against her neck before he closed his eyes and started to drift off to sleep. He was getting used to sleeping beside someone. Neither of them mentioned it, but it kept the nightmares they both had at bay.

Natasha traced a faded red square tattoo on the inside of her elbow and sighed as he tightened his grip on her waist. She waited nearly an hour before she finally answered him.

"The world is coming faster than you think Barton," she said quietly as she listened to him breathe softly from behind her. Natasha turned around in his arms and touched his face while trying to memorize him as best she could - she doesn't know if she'll get the chance to later on.

Happiness doesn't last - it's fleeting. Because on the tails of happiness rides the monsters that lurk in the shadows where the sunlight doesn't reach. Dark spots that are full of demons from the past that start to break down the fake reality happiness tries to construct. The foundation of life is built on the fundamental truth - everything ends in death.

It was only a matter of _time_ before someone came to deliver her finally moment on earth. Natasha leaned her head against his pillow and gently ran her hand through his short spikes of dark hair. She cupped his face with her right hand and felt him lean into her touch unconsciously as he continued to sleep peacefully. She wished this moment would last forever- but it won't.

Because peace is just an illusion.

"You make things so hard," Natasha whispered painfully before she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest so that she could breath him in and be surrounded by him. She slammed her eyes shut so that she could pretend that the world and all its complex problems didn't exist for just a few more fleeting moments.

Natasha planned to be a fighter until the very end. She had no expectation of coming out of this mess alive. She knows that she was going to die - She has been planning it for nearly a year now - since the day she met him. Her ultimate purpose in life is to take the entire Red Room down with her. Everything starts when they come after her. She's just waiting for them to make the first move. Natasha took a deep breath of his distinct calming scent and held him tighter.

She just wished that didn't mean taking _him_ down with her too.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: A bit of agnsty plot changes the mood of this mostly fun chapter doesn't it?**

**Natasha. Natasha. What are you planning behind your partner's back exactly?**

**If you didn't noticed…I based all the juniors off the Avengers Cast and just replaced their names with their actor's name. LOL - let's have some laughs before the intense horror yes? **

**Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. **

**Times running out for our lovely Russian assassin - and she knows it. **

**Something big is coming. Keep your eyes open and hope Clintasha can live through it. **

**Bye! **


	121. Chapter 121

**I Dare You **

**A/N: So last chapter was a bit crazy with the humor - yeah, yeah. Boardline crack. I understand! Forgive me for going crazy with that. BUT, we are back on track with the actually plot with this chapter. **

**We're going to Paris. **

**After we see a fight...cause someone asked for a sparring match... **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 121 **

1 week later on the last day of training Natasha and Clint were (not so reluctantly) saying their last words to their temporary trainee agents.

"This was an…interesting experience…," Clint started off hesitantly as he stood in front of their 6 junior agents who were all sitting in a line on the bench. Natasha sighed and promptly shoved him out of the way.

"What agent Barton is _trying_ to say is that you'd _better_ have learned something or we'll come back after our next mission and beat you all to a pulp again until you _do_ learn something," Natasha said curtly while giving each and every single one of them an intense_ I mean business _stare down.

They all smiled awkwardly and nodded their heads in unison.

Clint just stared at her in disbelief.

"That was not what I was going to say _at all_!" Clint said bewilderedly rounding on his calm faced partner. Natasha shrugged - she had her own blurb she had wanted to get out there. He was taking too long.

"Then spit it out Barton," she deadpanned. Clint huffed before he glanced back at their waiting audience.

"You guys are going to be good agents. Just don't lose focus, don't lose each other and always stay on top of your game - alright?" Clint said before take a deep breath and watching the 6 of them take in his few words - he wasn't really the wordy kind of guy for these types of things.

"That's cool," Agent Gregg said simply. Clint blinked slowly.

"That's it?" he asked warily. The agents all looked at each other and had a quick 5 second debate with their eyes before agent Evans was apparently appointed the speaker for them all (he was the most likeable).

"Well we had one question left," agent Evans said hesitantly. Natasha instantly gave him a dry look.

"Seriously kid - you need to sound more confident or no one is going to take you seriously in the field," Natasha said flatly.

Everyone winced. Damn she left no one's ego unscratched.

"Can you guys show us a real fight?" he asked with a bit more firmness in his voice. Clint and Natasha both blinked. Clint was the first to speak.

"We're partners - it's not going to be a real fight because we're on the same team. You'll most likely see the real thing on your first mission. Besides, guys - we have a mission debrief to be at in half an hour," Clint said trying to placate the crestfallen faces. He never got much further because the next thing he knew his bag full of his mission gear was being ripped out of his hands and tossed across the room.

"Ignore him - he's a punctuality freak. We have plenty of time - let's show them a real fight," Natasha said as she calmly dropped her own mission gear to the side and started tying up her long red hair while giving her partner a sidelong look. Clint's head whipped to the side as he stared at her.

_What was she thinking? _

"Seriously Natasha-," Clint started to protest but she sharply cut him off without a single care.

He was _going_ to fight her.

"Are you chicken Barton? Worried you're going to get beaten to a pulp in front of a bunch of junior agents? Or is it something _else_?" she said challengingly with simmering anger flashing in her eyes. _You better not have a shitty reason for not wanting to fight me Barton._

Clint narrowed his eyes when he saw where she was going with this.

"Don't start trying to put words in my mouth Romanoff - that's not what I _said_," Clint said warningly. Natasha shrugged as she tossing her long red ponytail over her shoulder and faced him full on.

"Then stop being a little dick and hit me Barton," she said as she raised her fists and stared him _down_.

"Oh for the love of _god,_ you are something else Tasha," he muttered under his breath. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Throw the damn punch or you won't like what I'll do to you next. It doesn't matter who we are in a fight," she said warningly. Clint straightened up and narrowed his own eyes.

She was testing him.

Of course he knew that.

In her fucked up head this was the only way to gain her respect.

He clenched his fist before he threw the first punch, and like usual he expected her to deflect or avoid it with her usual grace.

She didn't.

She actually did the opposite and lowered her fists which let his genuinely heavy punch make _direct contact_ with her cheek.

_Everyone_ gasped as they watched her head whip to side as the skin on skin contact echoed around the room.

_BAM_!

Clint stared at her in shock as he dropped his hand like she was on fire and saw the _massive_ harsh darkening bruise bloom across her face.

"Why didn't you _move_?" Clint demanded as he watched her spit out a mouth full of blood before she faced him again with an extremely serene and satisfied expression. _He punched her. He actually punched her._

Her respect for him just went up by 500 percent.

All Clint could think was - _what the hell was wrong with her? _

"I wanted to know if you would hit me or redirect at the last second," she said calmly before going back into a fighting stance.

That instantly pissed him off.

"What the _fuck_ Natasha? What the hell?" Clint growled as he dropped his hands because he refused to fight her like this. Natasha gave his lowered stance a frustrated look.

"Come on. Let's fight for real - I promise I'll kick your ass this time. That was just a test round," Natasha said heatedly while gesturing for him to bring his fists back up. Clint sharply shook his head.

"No. That is _not_ okay. You're on my damn shit list now you know that Romanoff?" Clint said irritably clenching his jaw and shooting daggers at her with his killer sniper stare. His fuming eyes said it all.

_How dare you let me land a direct hit on you? _

Natasha simply shrugged in response. He should be thankful - people rarely land a hit on her in a fair fight.

"I hate weak men who don't know how to handle a threat when it's in their face and about to kill them," she said steadily before she promptly shot forward and aimed a quick punch at his jaw. Clint scoffed.

"You hate _all_ men Romanoff," Clint grunted as he easily blocked her pathetic blow that was never meant to really land the hit - it was all mostly for show. Natasha chuckled and promptly used her still moving arm to sharply _elbow_ him in his side directly into a pressure point and force him to bent forward in pain.

"_Fuck_," he wheezed as he stumbled into her. Natasha roughly grabbed his hair and _yanked_ his head back so that he was looking straight at her.

"Not all men Barton - some men I_ do_ like," she whispered while flashing him a sharp smile before she roughly threw him into the wall. Didn't mean she would ever go easy on him - even if he _was_ her favourite.

_SMACK!_

"That was just _cruel_ Romanoff!" Clint shouted as he hit the wall and groaned as he slid down the hard surface as he tried to catch his breath. Natasha snorted as she put more distance between them.

"Who's nice in a fight Barton?" she asked in disbelief.

"What are they doing?" agent Gregg asked warily as he watched the two assassins beat the shit out of each other.

"They're pissing each other off," agent Paltrow said with a bored eye roll. They glanced back and found that Clint currently had the upper hand when he suddenly got her locked into a choke hold position and forced her to lean backwards against him as he pinned her arms to her back.

"Most of the time you have the upper hand in this position," he shouted over his shoulder before he leaned down next to her ear as he tightened his death grip on her neck. "You are in so much _shit_ woman," he growled furiously in her ear. Natasha laughed (more like wheezed) as best she could with the limited air she was getting. She was just so relieved that he could still fight her without worrying too much about injuring her.

As _if_ he could seriously injure her beyond the minor bumps and bruises she actually _wanted_.

"I'm always on your shit list - I have my own permanent spot," she whispered back before she promptly _banged_ her head back against his too close face and twisted his wrist until she got out of his grip. Clint winced and barely had enough time to block her vicious punch to his face before he realized that was her decoy move as she got a good grasp on his arm and promptly _flipped_ him onto his stomach and roughly pinned him to the ground.

"But not if you know how to use your opponent's balance against them," she shouted out loud before she brutally _shoved_ an intensely struggling archer's face into the ground.

"Checkmate partner," she whispered in his ear while making sure to breath hot air into his ear just to mess with him and leave him thoroughly flustered. She knew she got him when she felt him fight the urge to squirm. She almost thought she had him down for a good 4 seconds before he took a sharp breath and promptly flipped them over by shoving her back using the sheer strength in his arms. Natasha grunted as she hit the ground and his entire weight came crashing down on her and roughly knocked the breath out of her lungs.

_Damn,_ she miscalculated the amount of force he could use with his arms. _Damn it archer arms. _

"Romanoff, I've known you long enough to know how to you work," Clint said while breathing harshly in her face. He flashed her a sharp deadly smirk as he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head and pinned her deadly legs down with his knees before she could kick him in the balls and throw him off of her. Clint grinned as she struggled against his tight unbreakable hold and glared at him with her flashing green eyes. Clint leaned forward and brushed her ear with his nose.

"Who's checkmate _now_ Tasha?" he whispered in her ear.

Natasha froze as he deliberately blew a burst of hot air into her _own_ ear.

He was copying her moves.

Damn, and they _still_ worked on her too judging by how hard she held onto her control so that she didn't squirm beneath _him_. Natasha steeled her eyes as she redoubled her efforts to get out of his hold.

He was _not_ beating her at her own game damn it.

"But you forget - I play dirty Barton," she whispered back right before she turned her head and _bit_ his ear hard enough to nearly _bleed_.

"Oh _shit_!" Clint shouted out in pain as he pulled back on instinct and instantly let her go. Natasha used his momentary pause to sharply knee him in the stomach and roughly _punch_ him in the face forcing him to fall back onto the ground in a moaning mess. She promptly sat up and forced him to roll over by kicking him in the side before she pinned his arms back his back and pressed them down with her knees. She promptly grabbed his mouth and nose and firmly held them shut - effectively cutting off his air supply.

3 minutes and he would be _dead_.

"You have _no_ idea how many men I've gladly suffocated to death in my life," she whispered in his ear before she looked up at the juniors who couldn't even blink let alone look away.

"I _definitely_ win," she said out loud to the agents still watching in awe as she breathed heavily on top of her partner and tightly squeezing her hand over his mouth and nose. Clint banged his hand against the mat in a sign of forfeit before she finally let go and he _gasped_ as he sucked in much needed _air_.

"Holy _shit_ woman you're insane," Clint wheezed before he dropped his head onto the mat in defeat. He was _done_ getting his ass kicked by his partner. She was such a _bad_ loser.

"Looks like sex," Hiddleston whispered point blank what everyone was thinking.

Everyone promptly tore their eyes away from the epic fight and stared at him.

"HIDDLESTON!" they all shouted in disgust.

"What? What did I do?" he asked in honest disbelief. _It was the truth!_

"Alright, we're done here," Natasha said as she breathed deeply and rolled off her defeated partner still gasping on the mat.

"That was a dirty move Romanoff," Clint wheezed as he rolled over onto his back and nearly coughed up a lung. Natasha snorted as she stood up and stared down at her whining partner. He was acting - she could tell.

"Get your pathetic ass off the floor and let's get out of here Barton," Natasha said in a curt tone before she glanced back at the staring junior agents. "You're all free to go - unless you'd like to fight me too?" she asked with a sharp smirk pulling at the edge of her lips. They all promptly stood up and rushed towards the door. Only one of them stood back and gave Natasha a _genuine_ smile.

"Nice one," agent Paltrow said while holding up her hand clearly asking for a high five. Natasha furrowed her brow in confusion. No one has ever asked her for one of those before. Those were gestures mostly reserved for teams - and she's never been a part of a team.

She didn't think she was team material.

Then again, she didn't think she was _partner_ material - and look how an persistent pain in her ass archer proved that theory dead wrong.

"It's called a high five Tasha," Clint wheezed from the ground beside her.

Natasha's eyes hardened. That little _bastard_.

She promptly _kicked_ him in the shin before she high fived the waiting agent. Agent Paltrow blinked.

_What just happened?_

"I don't know what I high fived for just now," Agent Paltrow muttered hesitantly as she walked away. Natasha watched the agent disappear out the door and finally glanced down at the pathetic pile of beaten male pride still lying on the floor beside her.

"You getting up any time soon Barton?" Natasha asked in a bored tone. Clint held his injured shin and gave her the finger.

He was being pathetic.

"B-_beast_," he hissed at her. Natasha shook her head and sighed.

SHIELD men. They cry about paper cuts at home, but then they'll walk miles with several heavily bleeding bullet wounds and broken bones while in the field.

She'll never truly understand men.

"I've been hearing that one since the day we met Barton," she said dryly before she spun around and went to retrieve both their mission gear while she waited for him to finish up with his dramatics.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

_20 minutes later. _

The second agent Romanoff and agent Barton managed to get their foot through the door of their handler's office Coulson had analyzed their beaten up figures from head to toe and did _not_ look impressed.

"You sparred," Coulson said simply. The two assassins scowled at their handler.

"How do you know this is from sparring? How do you know we weren't just attacked by an unknown enemy on the way down here?" Clint asked in disbelief. Coulson picked up his pen and promptly pointed at Clint's slightly more roughened up figure then his partner.

"You _always_ look like you were attacked by an army after you spar with her," Coulson said point blank. Clint viciously scowled at him.

"I'm _not_ the only injured one here," he grumbled as he took a seat in front of his hander. Coulson glanced at the only Russian in the room and nearly did a double take.

"Did he _actually_ land a hit?" Coulson asked skeptically. Natasha shrugged and sat down too.

"Sure he did - we were sparring. Partners land hits during sparring," Natasha said modestly. Coulson did _not_ look convinced. As _if_ Clint could land a full fledge direct hit like that without something fishy going on. Clint huffed from beside her.

"She's lying. She fully let that happen on purpose," he said darkly. Coulson glanced back and forth between the two tense assassins sitting next to each other. Clint looked like he wanted to attack her with a med kit and Natasha looked like she wanted to hit him for worrying about a little bruising and a shallow cut.

Coulson sighed and pulled out a first aid kit and threw it at them - he didn't have time for this shit.

"Clean up her face and…what the hell happened to your ear?" Coulson asked suspiciously as he noticed the reddening region in Clint's left ear. They both froze and stared at each other.

_Cricket…cricket…cricket…_

"Don't ask," they said at the same time. Coulson _groaned_ and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You two fight like _animals_," Coulson muttered under his breath as he pulled out three files and started looking through one as he waited for his agents to get their shit together. He glanced up and found medical supplies scatted all over the floor while Barton was kneeling in front of his partner and holding a alcohol swab in front of her irritated face.

"I don't _need_ it," she grumbled impatiently. Clint shot her a sharp glare.

"Shut up and hold still," he muttered as he pressed an alcohol swab to her cheek while completely disregarding her sour expression. Natasha huffed.

"I _am_ holding still," she muttered back. Clint gave her a disbelieving stare.

"No, you are trying to watch what I am doing. Trust me and hold _still_," he said firmly. Natasha instantly went still as a rock as she stared at him.

"I _do_ trust you," she said seriously before she promptly stared up at the ceiling to prove her point. Clint sighed heavily. She was impossible to deal with.

"Overkill Tasha - complete overkill," he muttered as he continued his medical work patching her up after effectively beating her up. Natasha felt around the med kit and picked up the instant ice pack before she broke it and held it to his injured ear as he held a strip of gauze to her face and started tapping it down with medical tape.

"I don't need that," he said giving her a pointed look. Natasha raised a wary eyebrow.

"You were crying about it 10 minutes ago," she deadpanned. Clint didn't even react - he was done effing around - now he was in serious patch up partner mode.

"I was acting," he said simply while giving her a look that said - _you know that_. Natasha shrugged and continued to hold it there - she knew it still hurt. They heard an epic sigh of disgruntle from behind Clint.

"Are you two done flirting yet?" Coulson asked as he threw the files onto the table and _stared_ at them. Clint instantly straightened up when he was done and tossed the soiled medical supply waste into the trash bin.

"I don't see how patching her up counts as flirting," Clint grumpily as he took his seat beside her. Coulson gave the _don't test me boy_ stare.

"Trust me - you two make it look like illicit behaviour worthy of a medal," Coulson said dryly before he pushed to files towards the two of them. Neither of them made any move to touch them. Coulson sighed.

"Pick it up," he said slowly. They both glanced at the folders with wary expressions before they pulled the files towards them and opened them.

"We're going…to Paris?" Clint asked as he scanned the mission files. Coulson nodded carefully.

"Yes, you have two targets to eliminate and one objective. There is a meeting taking place in 3 days in a café near the Eiffel Tower between the messengers of two high profile French criminal syndicates in the country. They are going to be exchanging the location of an important piece of technology that is sealed within a passcode locked silver briefcase," Coulson said steadily as he watched them read their mission details. Clint suddenly looked up and narrowed his eyes.

"Coulson I swear to god if you don't tell us what this 'important technology' is I will play darts with your security files as the _target board_," Clint said warningly. Coulson just gave the archer a flat out bored look.

"I was getting to that part Barton. It's a replicator. The most successful thing it can replicate to near perfection is gold and diamonds. Thank god it cannot replicate living things - only inanimate objects. We need you to retrieve that. That type of technology would fund way too many criminal organizations and just give us all one more headache when the value for gold and diamond crashes," Coulson said tiredly.

Why do criminals always have to give him such big headaches?

"So you want us to kill Danielle Bonaire and her associate?" Natasha asked carefully. Well that was simple. Coulson shook his head slowly.

"Not just kill. You're going to follow her because we have her current location in the city and have been monitoring her for the past few days. She's waiting for Francis Roussel - the man who knows the location of this replicator," Coulson said evenly holding up the picture of the metal stick-like device. Natasha still didn't see what the complex part of this mission was.

"Francis…huh," Clint said with a peculiar look on his face as he stared at the picture of their male target. Natasha gave him a weird look.

"What's so interesting about the name Francis?" Natasha asked carefully. Clint shrugged.

"Nothing. It's just my middle name," he said simply as he continued to read the mission details.

_Silence_.

_Cricket…cricket…cricket…_

"_What_?" she asked as she continued to stare at him. Clint furrowed his brow and looked up at the closest expression to shock she was ever going to let grace her face.

"I thought you read my file Tasha?" he asked slowly. She shook her head cautiously.

"It's not _on_ your file," she said carefully. Coulson instantly cut in before this turned into another assassin fight.

"Calm yourselves. I removed it," Coulson said warily. They both stared at him.

"Why?" they asked in unison. Coulson promptly pointed to the archer.

"Because some of his alias' are using the name Francis. Barton, we did that like 3 years ago - did you forget?" Coulson asked cautiously. Clint paused as he racked his brain for that tiny detail.

"Um…I guess?" he said slowly. Coulson sighed but shook his head.

"Not important or relevant right now. What is relevant is that you need to track Danielle Bonaire, learn her habits because after you kill her you are going to _be_ her in disguise and attend this meeting," Coulson said as he watched and waited for their reactions.

They gave nothing. They might have been out of the field for a while but they didn't lose their touch that fast.

"Why can't we just eavesdrop on the conversation and get the briefcase before she does?" Clint asked as he stared at the complex plan. Coulson sighed.

"Because the meeting spot is going to be monitored by both crime groups to make sure the information only gets passed between the two informants. You can't get close enough without them catching you and the area will be scanned for bugs and trackers before the meet. This is a highly sensitive meeting you are going to be interfering with. If they figure out that Romanoff is a fake - they will shoot her on sight," Coulson said carefully. Clint inhaled a sharp breath.

"And I am her sniping back up?" he asked carefully. Coulson nodded.

"The second she is done - you let her walk away and out of the kill zone before you shoot the bastard dead before he can tell anyone else where it is," Coulson said with finality. Natasha and Clint both stared at the files in front of them.

This was a high risk operation.

"We're crashing one hell of a party Coulson," Natasha said quietly. Coulson nodded.

"Trust me. This was the easiest mission on the rooster - it would only be extremely high risk if you weren't a brilliant actress Natasha," Coulson said with a weak smile. Natasha nodded as she stared at the photo of their female target in front of her. She had 2 days to learn how to be Danielle Bonaire.

"And then we hunt the replicator down and we're clear for extraction right?" Natasha said insightfully. Coulson's lips thinned into a firm line.

"Depends on where the replicator is. If it's nearby you'll retrieve it. If it is outside the country - we'll send another team on standby to retrieve it and you're work will be done," Coulson said carefully. Clint suddenly looked up and locked eyes with his handler.

"Tell me I can strap her into a bulletproof vest before she goes in there," Clint said out of nowhere. Natasha stiffened beside him and glared at him.

"_No_," she said sharply. Clint ignored her and continued to stare at their handler. Coulson shook his head.

"It doesn't matter. They'll still have a head shot," he said warily. Clint clenched his jaw in frustration.

"You're sending her into a kill zone," Clint said tightly. Coulson leveled him will a firm stare.

"And _you're_ going to take out the other snipers and make sure she stays alive," Coulson shot back firmly.

"What is the relationship between Bonaire and Roussel?" Natasha asked carefully cutting into the protective male spat happening beside her. Clint and Coulson both stopped having their back and forth argument and glanced at her.

"They have no solid relationship. Though it is possible that they have had intimate encounters in the past. Play off whatever Roussel does for the relationship aspect. Interrogate Bonaire before you kill her if you have to for more information. But whatever you do, don't be the one to kill him in that location Romanoff - because then his backup will kill you before Barton can kill _them_," Coulson said warningly.

Both Clint and Natasha could only think one word.

_Damn_.

"When does our flight leave?" Clint asked carefully. Coulson gave him a blank look.

"Now," he said before tossing him a set of jet keys. Clint stared at the keys in his hand before giving his handler a suspicious look.

"Did you tag my keys again?" Clint asked warily. Coulson didn't even twitch.

"Get out of my office," Coulson said flatly. Clint pointed to Coulson's firm face with the keys in his other hand as he stood up with his mission files and walked towards the exit.

"That's a _yes_," Clint said giving his handler a dirty look. Coulson's expression remained cold and expressionless.

He fooled nobody.

"Don't start dying and make me use it," Coulson said warningly before he slammed his own file shut and stood up himself. Natasha sighed as she watched her partner make his _'dramatic exit'_ - without her.

"You're such a _stalker_ Coulson," Clint muttered as he ducked out of the office.

Coulson shared a bored look with the Russian assassin the archer had left behind. She was still sitting there just chilling as her partner walked away.

"You're partner is-," Coulson started to say but Natasha shook her head and cut him off.

"Yeah, I know," she said simply.

3

2

1

"Natasha, you're _supposed_ to walk out with me!" Clint's irritable voice shouted down the hall. Natasha and Coulson both took a deep breath and sighed.

"Do you see what I have to deal with?" she asked flatly. Coulson snorted. Of course he did.

"I did it for years - it's someone else's turn I'd say," he said dryly. Natasha pinched the bridge of her before she inhaled a deep breath and gave her handler one last exasperated look.

"Bye Phil," she said simply as she exhaled the stress out. Coulson gave her a tired smile.

"Bye Natasha - good luck on your mission," he said with a slight nod before they both exited his office. They shared one last glance before they turned in opposite directions and parted ways.

Who knows what life will be like the next time they meet?

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Epic Clintasha sparring match and now a high risk mission right around the corner. There is no way they can screw this one up - they are both in their own special element. It's going to awesome and perfectly executed - right?**

**Well except for the obvious plot twist. Either way….**

**Are you ready for Paris? **


	122. Chapter 122

**I Dare You **

**A/N: And now we start another mission arc. They always start nice enough. I feel sadistic like Natasha…haha**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 121 **

It was 8 o'clock in the evening Parisian time. They were both good at dealing with jet leg so the second Clint landed the jet in a SHIELD hanger they get right down to business. They took their Intel and set up temporary base in a hotel room that was conveniently located _right_ under the room that their French target was residing in.

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer right?

It's their first mission back in the field after their disaster operation in Romania.

They were going to cover all their bases and make sure they do this one right.

Currently the two SHIELD assassins finally back on active duty were sitting on a rather expensive hotel bed (perks of following a high profile criminal informant) with their mission files spread out around them. Clint had his laptop currently in his lap while Natasha was staring at their targets photos with a guarded look on her face.

"She's been in Paris for about a week. This is her third hotel switch. She has been here for about 2 days," Clint said as he started going over everything they knew about Danielle Bonaire. Natasha glanced at the Intel he was reading off of before she went _right_ back to staring at the photos.

"People who work for syndicate crime and do their illegal business never stay in one place for long - too many people want to kill them," Natasha said carefully. Clint suddenly looked grim.

_Like us. _

"She's been all over the world considering the type of information she carries for the French syndicate. A fake aristocrat who hangs off the grubby arms of fat old white men and passes along sensitive Intel that is dangerous enough to get her killed by her own people - let alone people on the outside like us. She is like a pretty bird who willingly stays in a cage with guns pointed at her all day long," Clint said as he added his own unnecessary commentary to the Intel. Natasha sighed - he was unbelievable sometimes.

"Where does she come from? Why is she in this business? That's what we want to know Barton. Motives are what drive people's actions and rule their personality. It's doesn't matter how she acts right now or in recent Intel - it could all be an act. You need to break them down and get in their head - _that's_ how to become another person," Natasha said a bit sharper then she meant to - but she was always like that. Clint huffed slightly and shifted away from her unconsciously.

"Well sorry missus _grand_ Russian spy. I'm just a lowly sniper here to watch your ass so that it doesn't get lit up by _bullet_ fire," Clint muttered as he irritably flipped through the pages. Natasha usually didn't worry about injuring his pride because she knew her words usually didn't affect him - but that one sounded like it hit a sore spot. She put the papers down and finally looked at him. He looked…frustrated.

That was not normal.

"I didn't…mean it like that," she said cautiously. She wasn't trying to stomp on his agent pride. He's not the one with years of espionage training. She knows this. _He_ knows this. So why was he acting like this? Clint suddenly sighed and shook his head.

"I know Tasha. I'm just tired from flying for 9 hours. Ignore me and my moods," he said as he shifted back closer to her and flipped his Intel papers to the right page. Natasha watched him school his face to become professional and saw him mask his apparent exhaustion - but she didn't pressure him about it.

Why should she bother him about masks when she was the queen of masking unwanted emotions?

"Orphaned at age 14. Her entire family died in a train accident. France is a horrible place for teenaged orphaned girls - anywhere is really. She got taken into the prostitution business but apparently the owner running the business took a liking to her…and she became his child mistress. She slept her way into her current position in the crime groups he was connected to," he finished tonelessly. Natasha shifted beside him as she felt his mood plummet.

"Why is the world so fucked up Tasha?" Clint asked as he tiredly rubbed his hands over his face.

"I don't know. I avoid questions like that. Questions like that have no answers and it'll drive you crazy if you think too hard about it," she said quietly. A few of her out of control moments of insanity flashed across her mind and she looked away from his drained world-wary expression.

They were both criminals once upon a time - and now they were hunting criminals who were probably less messed up then they are.

Life was bitterly ironic like that.

"Why is the crime business always full of the beautiful _fucked up_ women?" Clint muttered as he glanced at the photo of the pretty blond French woman sitting in the palm of her hand. He paused when he watched her hand tighten around the edge of the picture.

Natasha gave him a _slow_ vicious stare.

"Trust me - I'm not really into blonds," Clint said warily edging around her deadly aura while trying to cover his ass. Natasha promptly looked away when she knew he caught onto her slightly jealous tined mood.

She's _not_ jealous.

She's not.

"I don't care Barton," she muttered before going right back to scanning their files. Clint snorted. He honestly _snorted_.

Like hell she didn't care.

"Yeah, that's what you said after you shot me during the Hoffa mission - and yet how did we end up _here_ exactly?" he wondered with heavy sarcasm as he gestured between the two of them. Natasha paused and stared at her hands as she tried to understand the real depth and gravity of his words.

How _did_ they end up here?

"I really don't know," Natasha said while turning to look at him. Clint faltered in his built in sarcastic response when he caught her genuinely lost expression. He wanted to question her about that look but in a blink of an eye it was gone and he knew her mind was back on the mission when she glanced down at the laptop screen.

"What is she _doing_ in there?" she asked carefully. Clint sighed and looked down himself.

"She's sitting on her laptop doing nothing important other then business emails and the mundane things you do for a criminal business - just like she has been doing for the past 3 _hours_," Clint muttered before he glanced beside him to see Natasha staring at the wall across from her with her killer blank stare. He'd be a fool to think that just because her face was void of emotion her head wasn't bursting with a million conflicting ones raging inside of her.

She was thinking really hard about something - and it wasn't their currently very boring mark.

"You're distracted," he said quietly putting the laptop on the side and giving her his full attention. Natasha didn't even blink.

"I'm not distracted. I know what you said. We just have to wait until she leaves her hotel room - then I can start gathering her mannerisms while we follow her around town," Natasha said almost sounding like she was on autopilot. She likely _was_ talking to him on her internal autopilot.

She didn't fool anybody with eyes, ears and nearly a year's worth of Black Widow experience under their belt.

"Forget about the mission for a second Natasha," Clint said cautiously moving around until he was kneeling in front of her on the bed. He knew something was up when she just continued to stare at his chest.

She wasn't actually seeing him.

"What's wrong Tasha?" he asked quietly putting a hand on her knee. Natasha's expression instantly darkened.

"Nothing is wrong. We're on mission and we need to stay focused. So do you job and keep watch of our target Barton," she said guardedly. Clint narrowed his eyes.

Now she was just scaring him.

"I have a motion alarm on her front door and her window Natasha. Stop making excuses and tell me what's _wrong_," he said carefully tightening his grip on her knee in a clear warning not to play games with him. Natasha tensed beneath his tight hold on her.

"I said noth-"

"You're _lying_ Natasha. Stop lying to me," he grounded out forcefully. Natasha's eyes flashed in a way that he knew she just threw her walls up all over again.

"Maybe I just don't have anything to _say_ to you right now," she said through gritted teeth. Clint instantly deflated in his anger and shook his head. Natasha _never_ responds well when he yells at her - he learned that one very well from past experience. So he changed his tactics.

"Don't do this Tasha. Don't close up on me when something is bothering you," he said tiredly as he grabbed her around the waist and dragged her into his arms. She was stiff as a board as she leaned against him- but she didn't shove him away even if she _refused_ to respond to his touch. This was her nonverbal way of saying she wanted him to push back.

"_You're_ bothering me," she spat harshly against his shirt. Her usually harsh words bounced right off of his thick skin. He sighed as he ran a hand through her thick red hair and tried to get her to relax her tense posture.

He learned that there was a difference between when Natasha _really_ wants to be left alone and when she is just being _difficult_.

This was her being difficult. Because when Natasha wants to be alone she _tells_ him.

_Women_. There should be a course on just how to handle them.

"Want me to guess?" he asked quietly against her hair. He felt her frown even as her limp arms started inching their way around his broad waist. She was a living breathing contradiction.

"_No_," she mumbled against his shirt. He chuckled darkly and told her anyway.

"Sometime right after Yago died you've been on edge. You're watching your back more often. You're watching _my_ back even while we were off mission. You check your guns more often. You check _my_ guns for god's sake. You'd double check my bow if you knew how to," he said carefully right next to her ear. He felt her inhale a sharp breath but she didn't say a word.

He knew he was on the right track.

"I notice these things Natasha. Patterns is my thing, if deception is yours. You can't hide patterns when we spend every single moment of our lives together. You're not sleeping again. And I'm not a deep sleeper Natasha - I know you stay awake and stress about something while I sleep. I can feel you touching me when you think I'm in REM sleep - but I'm trained to wake at even the slightest disturbance," he told her cautiously. He sighed when he felt her instantly tense up at his words before finally ripping herself out of his arms.

_Now_ he got a reaction.

"If you can't sleep with me there why do you even bother coming _back_?" she asked angrily while curling her hands into fists and shaking in place. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"I do sleep. I know it's _you_ beside me and I go back to sleep. I sleep wonderfully. It's the best god damn sleep I've ever had in my life. It's _you_ who can't sleep," he said bitterly. Him being there is not enough to let her calm her rapid-fire mind and rest - even if she was enough for him. Natasha sharply shook her head when she saw his eyes fall.

"Don't look at me like that. I've always had sleeping problems Barton. It's not just _you_," she said guardedly. It's the treacherous part of her mind that sits there and dissects everything wrong she has ever done in her life. It bring the whole shitshow she calls life to the forefront of her mind and she ends up torturing herself with the sharp bloody memories. The enhancers made her memory recall too good and too real. The recent memories of their last mission and them dying were the _most_ real and the most torturous. Clint just sat in front of her and connected the dots far faster then she wanted him to.

"Yago's gruesome death was Barnes' warning shot," he said point blank. Natasha went rigid and her eyes turned to stone.

"Yes," she said stiffly. Clint took a deep breath as he analyzed all the information he had even if he knew there were things she wasn't telling him.

A spy never gives away all her secrets - not even to the most important person in her life. She's not stupid enough to think there was anyone who meant more to her then her partner. He was the only one she would ever want to die for - she nearly did.

"Which means he is coming after you any day now," Clint concluded tiredly. Natasha felt like shaking him.

"You have _amazing_ observation skills Barton," she spat sarcastically. Clint scanned her closed off and defensive expression and shook his head slowly.

"No. _No_, that's not it. You wouldn't act like this if it was just Barnes knocking on your door with a gun. There's something else you're not telling me Natasha. You're mind works 50 miles faster than mine does Tasha. You have to tell me things because I can't sit here and figure them out at snail pace - I'm useless to you in the dark Natasha," he said warningly. Natasha's entire atmosphere remained tightly closed off.

"I don't need _you_ to do what I need to do," she said guardedly. Clint held back the full body wince that threatened to rack through his body.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just verbally stab me in the chest and chalk it up to incredible _stress_ and your general coldness," he said carefully. It was _hard_ to be with someone like her - he always knew it would be hard and full of fights that were not always shouting matches.

"_Shut up_," she said stiffly. Clint shook his head and furiously ran a hand through his hair. She was in trouble and she didn't want to share anything with him. It was killing him.

"Let me help you Tasha. Damn it, you don't have to do this on your own. Let me _help_ you," he asked seriously as he grabbed her shoulders and shook her. The tension in her body didn't go down - if anything it went up.

"Some things you have to do on your _own_ Barton," she said tightly. Clint gave her a frustrated look. He was finally reaching the end of his patience - there was only so much patience she could use up before he reached his limit.

"Like what? Die alone? Give up before you even had a fighting chance? Let them point the guns at your head and just _end_ everything Natasha?" he asked angrily grabbing her arms so that she couldn't go anywhere - she didn't even _try_ to rip her arms out of his grasp.

Where could she go where he wouldn't just follow?

"Maybe if that's what I _want_," Natasha growled heatedly. Clint tightened his jaw and glared at her.

"No, It's _not_ what you want. You don't want to die Natasha. You work so damn hard to stay alive - you work twice as hard to keep _me_ alive, so don't give me your bullshit about sudden suicidal feelings you've been having because I can _feel_ when you think you're getting shoved into a corner Natasha. And let me tell you - you're _not_ pretty when you're cornered," he said darkly. Natasha in a corner was like a dangerous injured tiger that was just waiting to lash out at anything that moved. Natasha in a corner was likely to make rash decisions she wouldn't normally make when she wasn't under insane amounts of stress.

Nobody can tell when Natasha is stressed until she was reaching her breaking point. 8 days without sleep got her there pretty fast the first time around. She was still too well controlled to fully let him see it right now - but actions spoke louder than words. They always do.

Natasha stared at him for a long moment.

"Sleep with me," she said suddenly. Clint did a _double take_ and stared at her like she had just lost her god damn mind.

"_What_?" he asked in honest disbelief.

"Sleep with me Barton," she said seriously as she glanced down at his civilian clothes and started rapidly unbuttoning his black shirt with frighteningly practiced hands. Practice that made his heart freeze and his mind along with it.

Clint sat there for 5 seconds of shock before he snapped into action to _stop_ her sudden madness.

"_No_, Natasha. Not on a mission. And not like this. What are you _doing_?" he asked guardedly as he grabbed her wrists and ripped her hands away from him. Natasha growled in irritation as she half-heartedly struggled against his tight but not unbreakable hold.

If her expert hand to hand combat skills was anything to go by she was letting him have some control on purpose.

"Why are you pushing me away _now_ Clint? You're always kissing me and touching me - making your quiet interest loud and clear but you never ask anymore. Your eyes are always _looking_ but you never _ask_ for it. Isn't this what you _want_?" she asked in frustration. Isn't this why he stays with her? Because he hasn't fully had her yet? Like some forbidden fruit he has to try or he'll go mad? Even if she gave him everything she had that actually _meant_ something to her without even meaning to?

Sex meant _nothing_ to her. He can have it if he wants it so bad.

Clint fiercely shook his head and tightened his grip on her wrists to keep her away.

"_No_. No, I _don't_ want you like this Tasha. Maybe if you asked me a week ago on base I would have said yes. But I don't want you right now. I don't want you when you're _scared_," he said very, _very_ clearly.

He watched her systematically lock down and his jaw tightened as he saw her eyes turned to steel.

"I'm not scared," she said darkly. Clint narrowed his eyes. If he made a dime for every time she tried to lie to him he would be _filthy_ rich.

No one said he couldn't be if he just changed his lifestyle and put his deadly skills elsewhere. He could get rich so _fast_ and yet it would be so _meaningless_.

"Then why is your hand shaking?" he asked carefully holding up her hand that was trembling ever so slightly in his firm grasp.

"It's not shaking," Natasha said evenly without caring that the evidence was literally sitting in his own hand. She spent years making sure her voice would _never_ wavier no matter what she was feeling or how badly her body was betraying her words. She felt him cup her face with the hand that wasn't holding hers and brush her cheek in a way that you would touch something precious. Her eyes hardened. She wasn't one of those fragile little girls who needed tender caring - she had always been self-sufficient, she had always managed to take care of herself. She doesn't need this. _She doesn't need him. She doesn't need him. She doesn't need him._

Clint just shook his head as he watched her lie to herself over and over again because he knew she was trying to make herself believe whatever lie she was repeating in her head.

"You're such a good liar Natasha - don't you ever get _tired_ of lying all the time?" Clint asked quietly. Natasha's entire aura darkened.

"Lies are better than the truth Barton," she said carefully. _Lies are safer._ Clint narrowed his eyes at her evasive attitude.

"The biggest lie of your _life_ is pretending that you're invincible and that nothing can touch you because you're the Black Widow. You've killed _hundreds_ of people - _so_ many people, I can't even imagine how you managed that in just 11 years. If you continue the lie then you believe the Widow has no emotions, that she doesn't feel anything. That none of the things she has done ever come back to haunt her. If you take the guilt, the shame, the humanity away, then all you have left is a machine in human form. A killer weapon. Is that what they told you in training Natasha? That you're a weapon?" Clint asked damningly. Natasha stared at him with dark cold eyes and didn't move a muscle.

"Congratulations on your psychoanalysis of a heartless killer," she said guardedly. _You'll only ever see what you want to see _- that is why no one at SHIELD can ever trust her. Because all they see is the killer - not a person. Clint sharply shook his head. He wasn't done.

"No. I'm not finished. That's who the _Widow_ is - and she is just one big lie. She's not real. She's like your shield to hide all the turmoil inside of you. Because then there is Tasha, and I _know_ she feels the guilt and the pain from her past. She showed me. She told me. She told me things she never told anyone else. _I_ told her things I've never told anyone else in return. She came back for me when I landed myself in shit more times than I care to remember. Maybe she doesn't have it all figured out. Maybe she makes mistakes - but _everyone_ makes mistakes. She's allowed to make mistakes. That's why you _forgive_ people - because they're not perfect. She's _not_ perfect. She's not all good, but she _has_ good in her. I know she does. Why doesn't she ever _believe_ me?" Clint asked as he started to shake her tiredly. Natasha felt her ponytail come lose as red hair started to fall into her face.

"It's hard to believe something when you spent your whole life believing the opposite Clint," she whispered as her eyes started to cloud over slightly. Clint inhaled a shaky breath before he stared at her with an unnameable emotion clouding _his_ eyes. He used to think he was damned too - he _still_ does. But there's more to life than just the sad ending. There _has_ to be. Otherwise there would be no such thing as redemption.

"It takes _time_ to change," he said quietly as he let go of her arms and cupped her face. 5 _years_ later after turning his life around he was _still_ trying to change.

"I don't _have_ time Clint," she whispered as she slammed her eyes shut so that she wasn't forced to see the sadness in his eyes. She felt warm lips press against her forehead and nearly shuddered.

"I won't let him touch you. I won't even let him near you. I'll fight for you Natasha - you just have to let me," he whispered against her cheek before she felt him capture her lips in a soul shattering kiss as he leaned into her and forced her to fall back against the bed as he braced his strong arms on either side of her head. He poured as much reassurance as he could into the kiss because he meant _every single word_ he said. He felt her gradually start to believe him when she slowly reached up and buried her hands in his hair and kissed him back. She was a fool if she thought he was going to sit back and let her past employers send her own _god damn_ ex-partner to kill her. She was _his_ partner now. She chose _him_ in Russia. She was lying here and kissing _him_ and not that little fucker that was that only person who could scare the shit out of Natasha Romanoff no matter _how_ good her masks were. Clint reached up and buried a hand deep in her blood red hair as he kissed her harder, trying to prove to her in some messed up way that he wasn't going to leave her when shit hit the fan. He'd jump in front of bullets for her - especially considering she already jumped in front of one for _him_. He'd die fighting next to her. He'd kill -

_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_

Clint _groaned_ in frustration against her lips and pulled away to give the monitor and motion sensor alarms a _vicious_ threatening glare.

The target had opened her front door.

While he was having god damn _moment_.

He was going to _kill_ her.

That was actually a fact.

"I fucking _hate_ my life," he muttered irritably before glancing back down at his deeply breathing partner still resting against the pillow beneath him. There was genuine colour in her cheeks that were rapidly fading as she switched into mission mode.

"Time to work," she said evenly sliding the calm mask over her slightly out of control emotions. He always did that to her - the smart thing would be to stop whatever this was between them before it went too far. Sometimes she felt like doing exactly that. Sometimes she felt like telling him he was too much and that maybe they should go back to being what they were before Colombia. Sometimes she got scared by what she felt when he kissed her so strongly because she feel like she was drowning in him. But then she would watch him genuinely sigh in displeasure at being interrupted by life as he gently brushed her hair out of her face. He would grumble about being _god damn workaholics_ as he tugged her off the bed and into a sitting position before he irritably stood up and went to collect their surveillance gear and the tracker they had on the target. He muttered curses the whole time under his breath - but he didn't ignore their job. He _never_ ignored their job.

She'd watch him do those little things and she felt the words _maybe we should stop_ die on her lips - especially after they were thoroughly bruised and swollen due to him in the first place.

"This isn't over Romanoff," he said warningly over his shoulder while stepping away from her with obvious reluctance. Natasha gave him a flat out bored look and felt like smacking him. She didn't though because she already managed to roughen him up enough back on base and she needed him in top working condition for (at least) the next few days. He was already moving a tiny bit slower due to how hard she had dropped him to the ground during sparring - but she knew that the soreness would fade in the next few hours.

She knows exactly how much he can take before she actually breaks him. Mentally or physically - she's seen him at his worst shape for both. It was her job to know, but more importantly it was her _responsibility_ to know him. Most people would think she was overly violent towards her partner and treated him with little to no respect. They're all wrong.

No one understands that she respects him more than any other person in the entire world.

Or that she is very, very careful - in _everything_ she does. Including their sparring.

"We're never over Barton," she said with a sigh as she stood up and walked over the table with their gear scattered all over it. She picked her gun off the table and stuffed it into the back of her waistband before she started sliding her sheathed knives into their familiar places all over her body as she went over everything she needed to do before they have enough Intel to move in and eliminate this target. The cold temperatures was going to be a pain in their ass - but at least in the winter she had better hiding places for her weapons.

And she could wear some real damn _clothes_ instead of the skimpy shit she'd be forced to wear if it were summer - as Barton would say. She felt him crowd her space from behind her and let him snake his insanely strong arms around her waist before resting his chin on her shoulder and nudging her ear with his warm nose. She reached up and buried one hand in his hair as he nuzzled the side of her face.

"You better believe it," he whispered in a dead serious tone. Whatever you do to the target. Whatever the target does to you. Whatever happens on a mission. Whatever happens because of a mission or _after_ a mission.

We're still _us_.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: And now we start tracking while worrying about where on earth Barnes is. But I wonder where Danielle Bonaire is going to take them on this merry chase through Paris?**

**Clintasha romance is angsty romance - don't expect frolicking through Parisian streets while holding hands or anything sickening like that. They're still killers stalking a mark while a deadly killer is likely stalking **_**them**_**. **

**But of course nothing ever goes according to plan - for anybody. **

**Are you guys ready for some mission action? ;) **


	123. Chapter 123

**I Dare You **

**A/N: Let's get this party started. Who expects the bang to happen at the start? :P Nah. I'm more suspenseful then that. **

**NOTE: And I would like to point out that last chapter was NOT utterly useless fluff nor was it really about their over the top relationship 'troubles'. It was necessary plot conversation about upcoming events. If you were blinded by the Clintasha emotions simmering under their words…that kind of sucks for you because it was important information about their target and other looming problems hanging over both their heads. They don't always talk professionally during the entire mission because they are alone and in a damn **_**relationship**_**. And she was **_**scared **_**- what was he supposed to do? I can write feels and plot at the same time. It wasn't an unnecessary filler chapter :'( **

**I'll be honest, that review kind of hurt.**

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**Chapter 123 **

Half an hour after following their blond target down several winding Parisian alleys from the rich side of Paris to the more backwater parts where failed artists and people with broken dreams resided in the shadows of all the fame and flash that made up the center of the city. Within 40 minutes of bearing the harsh outdoor conditions Clint started complaining - just to fill the silence. Not that it was uncomfortable silence. Silence with Natasha can be many things with many simmering emotions - but this one was calm and he preferred it to almost any conversation he has ever had with other SHIELD agent.

He just wanted to start up a conversation with her when he started getting just a _little_ bit bored.

"No wonder she stayed in her hotel all day - it's fucking _cold_," Clint muttered as he flipped his collar up to cover his freezing ears and stuffed his hands into his coat pockets as they followed their relentless target who apparently had to _walk_ halfway across the city and refused to take a cab.

How _lucky_ them.

"It's almost December - of course it is cold Barton," Natasha muttered back. Clint huffed and buried his face into his scarf to save what was left of his reddening nose.

"Why are you grumbling? You're Russian," he said childishly while watching her out of the corner of his eye. Natasha instantly looked away and stared at the alley wall beside her as she kept their target in sight.

"Just because I'm Russian doesn't mean I like the cold," she said edgily as memories of hyperthermia and ice cold nights lost in a Siberian forest flashed across her sharp eyes. She _hated_ being too cold. Clint caught the sudden dark shift in her mood and immediately lost the act.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. Natasha stiffened and fiercely shook her head.

"It doesn't matter anymore," she said firmly. Clint gave her a sharp look and pulled one freezing glove covered hand out of his pockets to grab hers.

"It matters. Trust me, it matters. You should know that memories matter after what we've been through," he said carefully. Natasha tensed as they kept walking but he just tightened his grip on her hand and squeezed.

"I…know that," she said guardedly. She nearly killed herself while trying to fix him - that's something you can't ignore. Especially when she felt the air escape her lungs when she thinks about him not knowing who she is. She nearly had a heart attack when she thought she was left with a version of him she didn't necessarily even _like_. Clint glanced down at their joined hands when she suddenly trapped his hand in a tight death grip. It was a painful grasp but he didn't say a word about it because it was _Natasha_ holding onto him that hard.

"Don't lie defensively when it's just us Tasha," he said quietly. Natasha gave him a sharp look.

"How do you know when I am lying?" she asked carefully. He had gotten scarily good at figuring out when she was bluffing. _Much_ better than before. Clint shrugged as he kept his eyes on their little French blond.

"Gut feeling. I'm usually good at catching someone's bluff. Though it took me some time to get to know you first before I could catch yours," he admitted reluctantly. _You're a hard person to read Tasha - but I learned how, though at great cost to my sanity. _

"Does it bother you that we basically went from summer to winter without any memories in-between the last few months?" Natasha asked carefully out of nowhere. Clint thought about her question for a few minutes before he finally shook his head.

"No. Not as much as I thought it would. Mostly likely because you went through it with me," he answered honestly. Natasha frowned for a second before it instantly disappeared.

"It's not an unfamiliar feeling for me," she finally said quietly. Clint paused as he glanced at her pale windswept face and tightly bundled figure walking beside him.

Natasha was telling him things. She rarely tells him things. Unless he was basically verbally attacking her with vengeance or it was absolutely necessary she stayed tight lipped about _anything_ related to her past.

"The reconditioning you mentioned before in Japan?" he asked cautiously. Natasha nodded.

"You remember all your missions right?" she asked evenly. Clint was about to say _yes, of course I do_ - but then he winced. He doesn't remember _every_ detail.

"_Mostly_, yes. Sometimes I was drugged or concussed if I was stupid enough to get kidnapped and unfortunately beat up and tortured because insane criminals like to do that sort of deranged shit - so some parts are fuzzy, but for the most part I have a pretty good memory," he said carefully. He made a point of being as honest as possible with her - because he only wanted honesty in return.

His amnesia was left unsaid. Neither of them ever wanted to talk about that or what it did to her. Natasha was good as controlling conversations so she swiftly sidestepped that landmine and told him what she wanted to tell him.

"I have holes in my memories. Gigantic gaps that are from days to weeks long. I don't remember every mission I did. I don't remember every person I killed or how I killed them. It's worse _not_ knowing what I did then knowing it in frightening detail," she said carefully while watching his expression with caution. He didn't take his eyes off their target though, while his body language remained deceptively calm and controlled. She's going to have to do a lot worse to try and scare him away. There wasn't _anything_ she could have done that would make him leave.

"Maybe they took away the memories that would break you," he said quietly. Some kills are so bad you can drive yourself insane just thinking about it. Natasha's eyes hardened.

"No. That's not why they did it. I'd prefer to know the gory details," she said darkly. She felt him take a deep breath and watched the warm puff of hot air appear in front of him as he exhaled slowly. 11 months ago she would have interpreted that action as him holding back his disgust - but Barton doesn't work like normal people. Assassins in general are not normal people. This was him trying to understand what she was trying to tell him.

"Why? Why would you want to know?" he asked evenly. Natasha stuffed her hands into her own coat pockets and curled her hand around her knife, more for reassurance that it was there then for anything else.

"How would you feel if you woke up in a room full of dead bodies and blood coating the floor and you know without a shadow of a doubt that _you_ killed every single last one of them - but you don't know why and you don't know how?" she asked tensely. Clint finally tore his eyes awake from their distant mark and stared at her.

"Why are you telling me this _now_ Natasha?" Clint asked sharply. He knows Natasha never does something without a reason. She is too controlled and too calculative with all her actions to do anything without meaning to. Natasha held his accusing gaze with dark truths flashing in her eyes.

"I'm telling you because you better shoot yourself before you let that happen to you," she said damningly. Clint finally had enough.

"Let what happen to me Natasha? _Brainwashing_? You're telling me this _now_?" he asked heatedly. This was a whole new level of danger she didn't think was important enough to tell him.

"Just don't let them get you alive Barton," she said quietly. Clint furiously ran a through his hair - like he always does when he is frustrated with her. Sometimes she really made him want to shake her until she understood what the words _partners_ and _trust_ and _reliable_ meant.

"I'm not that valuable. They're after _you_ Natasha - not me," he growled angrily. Natasha ignored his anger and glanced up at the snow that was starting to fall around them.

"What do you think they could do if they have an asset with a perfect shot?" she asked tonelessly holding her hand out and watching a snowflake fall into the palm of her hand and melt away.

_Silence_.

She felt his shoulders sag as his anger melted away just like the snowflakes hitting their coats. He would be an incredible weapon if caught and used by the other side. Probably even more useful than her in more military situations. She's only good in a close up fight - she's useless at a distance. Clint is the opposite - not many people have skills like his.

"I understand why you're scared now," he said in defeat and he stared at her with solemn eyes. Natasha instantly stiffened beside him.

"I'm _not_ scared - I'm telling you the god damn facts to keep your ass alive," she hissed at him. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"What about _your_ ass Natasha? If you're so busy worrying about me who is going to keep _you_ alive?" he asked heatedly.

Her stony silence bothered him more than any sarcastic retort she could have possibly have used at that moment.

"Natasha-," he started to say warningly but he never got the chance to finish his thought.

"Bonaire stopped walking," she said quietly cutting him off. Clint's head sharply turned to stare ahead of them and he noticed the target was suddenly staring at a flashy building to her left. They watched her take a deep breath before she entered the building. Clint and Natasha both felt like banging their heads against a wall and ask _who_ the hell hated them _this_ much?

"She's going into a _Casino_? Are you serious?" Clint asked irritably giving his partner a _what the hell_? look. Natasha was about to say _they were screwed,_ when he suddenly yanked her away from the entrance with a determined look on his face.

"We're not dressed for a casino Barton," Natasha hissed as he dragged her around the side of the building. Clint narrowed his eyes as a calculative look flashed across his eyes.

"Neither is _she_," he said seriously as he rounded the corner and came face to face with two big black suited men who were obviously guarding the back entrance. Clint felt like sighing as he felt Natasha shift into a fighting stance behind him.

He _hated_ collateral damage.

The two imposing French guards stared them down through their dark shades and Clint felt like sighing again when they started talking nice - now he was going to feel even _worse_.

"Je suis désolé, monsieur, mais cette entrée est seulement pour les employés. _(I am sorry sir, but this entrance is only for employees)_," one of the big guards said carefully but formally. Clint shook his head and finally he really _did_ sigh.

"_Non. Non. Mes excuses, grands hommes français effrayant, mais mon partenaire et moi avons des affaires à l'intérieur et je suis très désolé de ce qu'elle va faire au vous, (No. No. My apologies, large scary French men but my partner and I have some business in there and I am very sorry about what she is about to do to you)_," Clint said genuinely apologetic before he stepped to the side and let her jump them.

"_OMPH_!"one of the guards said in shock as they got attacked by a blur of red and black. Natasha had her killer jean-clad thighs wrapped around his neck in record time and forced the man to stumble backwards due to the sheer speed of her attack.

"_Alive_ Natasha," Clint reminded calmly as she took the guard to the ground in a whirlwind of motion.

_CRASH!_

The second guard watched the shockingly small redhead easily take down his colleague and instantly pulled out his gun and aimed to shoot her. However, he paused with his finger on the trigger when he felt a highly threateningly dark presence behind him.

"_I wouldn't point a gun at my partner big guy_," Clint whispered warningly from behind the much larger man before he stabbed the guard with one of his darts and watched him crumble to the floor. He would _never_ kill innocent people to protect her - but he had no issues with simply knocking them out cold before they could hurt her. He wasn't _that_ nice. He glanced up to see Natasha casually sitting on the other completely knocked out guard while twirling a pen in her hand. Not that she needed his protection. He knew very well that she could take care of herself.

And that _arrogant_ smirk on her face was far sexier than it should be.

"Last time you tazed me you used the lowest setting didn't you?" he muttered as he yanked open the heavy metal back door and stared at her accusingly. Natasha shrugged and fixed her slightly slanted ponytail before she got off the unconscious guard.

"It was too hard to resist the urge to make you twitch like a fish out of water on my bed," she said with an air of sadistic satisfaction before she walked passed him and entered the back of the sketchy gambling hot spot. Clint stared at the slight victory swagger in her hips and sighed.

"Sometimes I really wonder _why_ I like you so much you crazy Russian," he muttered to himself as he followed behind her into the back employee-only zone of the noisy Casino site. He didn't even think he had a thing for Russians. She was just like a storm that entered his life out of nowhere and he was still trapped in her powerful winds that swept everything anyway in his life until all that was left in his vision was _her_. He watched as she pulled off her gloves and stuffed them in her pockets before she suddenly grabbed him by the font of his coat and plastered them both against the wall at the edge of the hallway before it turned the corner.

"What-" he started to asked but she slapped her hand over his mouth to shut him up.

"Shh," she said sharply as she tilted her head to the side.

The next thing they knew two tired looking French waiters were rounding the corner and they didn't even see what hit them as Natasha tazed them both and watched them collapse to the floor in a pathetic spasmming mess.

"And now we have something to wear," she said as she flashed her partner a devilish smirk over her shoulder. Clint just shook his head as he helped her drag the two unconscious waiters into a closet so that they could _rob_ them of their clothes.

There were a few reasons why he liked her. Just a few.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

_10 minutes later._

Casinos are insane. Packed with men of all ages mostly in fancy suits or knock off suits trying to get rich or trying to see how fast they can lose their life savings and get away with not paying their debts to the crime owners. Dead cigarettes and poker chips littered the floor and the place was noisy and overflowing with people because it was Saturday night and their target just _had_ to come here of all the damn places - she could go at 11 pm in _Paris_.

"You're too pretty to be a waitress you know that?" Clint muttered under his breath into his com link as he watched his partner glide across the Casino floor with a tray full of empty champagne glasses in one hand while wearing the black and red waitress uniform shirt over her original civilian clothes. She tried to make herself appear as plain as she could manage because they were here to observe but yet she _still_ took half the sleazy male attention with her. Natasha ignored all the interested stares as she walked through the crowds and searched the Casino floor for their mark who was making their lives extremely difficult at the moment.

"I can pass fine. No makeup. No hairspray. College girl doing her part time job style pissed off face. Not trying to be pretty at all. I wasn't really expecting to give a show tonight," she muttered as she reached up to mess up her hair just a bit more - but it was futile. Even when she wasn't trying she _still_ caught attention. The only time she doesn't catch attention is when she actively tries to downplay her looks with professional practiced skill.

She didn't have the time or the luxury of equipment to do that right now.

"You have eyes following you," Clint said quietly watching the men who were leering at her as she passed the bar while he stayed on the other side of the room to reduce the risk of looking suspicious.

"Do they belong to a sniper?" she asked casually as she scanned the many pool tables and the bar for a specific blond head.

"Not all of them," he said carefully watching her try to locate their target in the crowds of gamblers, quite a few criminals and a lot of drinks and smoke filling the smoky Casino air.

"You're about to be approached by your first admirer," Clint muttered as he tore his eyes away and tried to find their target while she dealt with her little situation. Natasha paused as an older dirty blond French man likely in his 30's slid in front of her and blocked her path in what he probably thought was a smooth intervention. Natasha simply blinked and gave him a fake mildly interested look - she was really just going over the fastest way to get rid of him.

"Vous êtes une belle dame, ma chérie. Vous devez avoir une longue nuit devant vous travaillé dans un établissement animé comme ceci. Je me demandais si vous désirez prendre un verre avec moi après le travail, si vous n'avez pas quelque chose d'autre a faire. (_You are one lovely lady, my darling. You must have a long night ahead of you working in a lively establishment like this. I was just wondering if you had any plans after work and if you might like to go have a drink with me?)"_ he asked in a deep southern France drawl. Natasha could practically _feel_ the all encompassing dark vibes coming from a certain archer standing stiffly on the other side of the room.

"_Punch him in the face and say you're taken_," Clint said darkly in her ear. Natasha nearly _broke_ character to send him a vicious deadly glare and break _his_ face - but she didn't. She had more composure and more poise then that. Instead she turned around and gave her back to her partner while she faced the flirty French man and gave him her full attention and slid right into the character of her choice for tonight.

"Je suis désolé monsieur. Vous êtes très beau et je suis sûr que vous ferez une femme très heureuse ce soir, mais j'ai un goût plus féminine dans ma lit - si vous voyez ce que je veux dire? (_I'm sorry mister. You are very handsome and I'm sure you will make a woman very happy tonight but I have a more feminine taste in bed - if you know what I mean?)" _Natasha purred with a flirty wink that nearly rivaled that of a true wall flower of a Casino like this as she threw a half interested glance at a pretty dark haired lady in a deep blue dress sitting at the bar and sipping a glass of red wine as she watched the Casino crowd with a bored look.

_Shock_ was not a strong enough word to describe the look that flashed across her unwanted flirter's face.

"Pardon? Etes-vous sûr que tu n'aurais pas ... reconsidérer? _(__Pardon? Are you sure you would not…reconsider?)_" the man asked as he leaned into her breathing space and glanced down at her chest before raising an inviting eyebrow. If the sudden intense coughing in her ear was anything to go by, the bold French flirter was not the only shocked man in the room right now. Natasha flashed the leering man a sweet apologetic smile and hoped to god he would not touch her or she was going to bite him.

"Merci pour l'offre, mais comme je l'ai dit, je préfère mes compagnons de lit un peu plus jolie, (_Thank you for the offer but like I said, I prefer my bedmates a little more pretty_,)" Natasha said as she gracefully sidestepped the worst excuse for a gentleman she had the displeasure of crossing paths with. Her partner was no gentleman either - but he showed her more respect than any man she has ever met in her _life_. She'd take him over this loser any day.

Frankly, she would likely take Barton over _any_ man any day.

"Juste un instant mademoiselle!_(__Just one moment madam_!)" the French man called out from behind her. Natasha _really_ wanted to keep walking but she forced herself to stop and exhaled a frustrated breath as she turned around to face him with a pleasant questioning look. She hid her startled feeling when he suddenly grew bolder and grabbed her hand and placed a wet open mouth kiss on the back of her hand and nearly made her _snap_ his wrist and break his jaw.

He was _touching_ her. Natasha felt her blood start to boil in disgust.

"_Fucking French pervert_," someone hissed in her ear. The French man glanced up at her and as he flashed her a sharp smirk that had an edge to it.

"Transmettez mes amitiés à la dame chanceuse, (_Give the lucky lady my best regards,)"_ he whispered while he dropped her hand before he stepped back and strolled away, clearly looking for another conquest to prey on. Natasha put her intense disgust aside and stared at his back for several seconds as her rapid-fire mind tried to place where the hell she knew him from. She _knows_ that strut - she's seen it before.

"_Barton_…," Natasha said as she watched the sharply dressed man walk away. She instantly wiped the man's spit off the back of her hand by rubbing it against her shirt and locked eyes with her partner from across the floor. He watched her inhaled a sharp unsteady breath and he knew they were in trouble.

"Natasha what the hell was that?" Clint asked equally if not _more_ on edge then her. Natasha glanced back at the man in the white suit and alarms went off in her head.

"I don't know - but it's not _him_. I know it's not," she said carefully. If Barnes is going to attack her it's not going to be in a crowded room- and he definitely wouldn't let her see him. Clint swiftly walked across the room with his own tray in his hand and moved closer towards her - just in case.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked cautiously as he stared at the blond man stalking purposefully across the Casino floor. Natasha's eyes narrowed as she heard the familiar tone in his voice.

Translation: _Do you want me to kill him? Is he a threat? _

"Just keep an eye on him - I don't know who he is but that doesn't mean he's not dangerous," she said under her breath as she spun around and weaved her way through the crowd. _Where is their target? Where the hell did she go?_ Natasha irritably glanced down at the tracker on her phone and cursed. The signal was here in the building but where _was_ she?

"He's looking for someone Natasha. He's not just an average businessman," Clint said tightly in her ear as he followed the man that made his partner feel stressed and therefore immediately landed him on the number one spot on his shit list. He promised her would protect her and that is exactly when he is going to do. _He's one of us._ Natasha clenched her jaw. Fantastic - another killer headache.

"Not our problem as long as he doesn't bother us. Don't draw attention to yourself," she said warningly as she rapidly went through ever single face she knew in her head and tried to match the man who had approached her but none of them fit and she was starting to think he wasn't wearing his real face at all. She stepped around a rowdy pool crowd and _finally_ zoned in on their target at the back of the Casino. She had to get close enough to see what the blond pain in her ass was doing here. Currently Danielle Bonaire was sitting alone in a booth at the back of the Casino - clearly waiting for someone.

But their Intel said she was supposed to have no contact with anyone until meet day - which was the day after tomorrow.

So what the _hell_ was she doing here?

"I found the target - I'm going to make brief contact," Natasha said steadily and she threw several champagne glasses into a trash bin to make more room on her platter and purposefully walked towards the lone criminal informant.

"You do that - I'm following the pervert," Clint muttered as he kept a good distance but watched as the blond approached a poker game across the room and actually joined in. He sat down amongst some of the richest men in the room and slammed a wad of cash on the table - while immediately caught the interest of every man at the table. The blond lit his own cigarette and smirked at all the wide-eyed stares he was getting as he leaned back in his seat and waved at them to put him in the game.

"He's loaded," Clint said in disbelief.

"Fake counterfeited," Natasha said offhandedly as she stepped right up to the table that was currently occupied by the mark and she rearranged the platter in her hand so that it was directly in front of her face. She doesn't want the target to remember her face with striking clarity. It was an unnecessary precaution because the target seemed distracted enough by the table in front of her. Natasha internally frowned but went into action.

"_Hello madam. Would you mind if I took your empty glass and brought you back a new one?_" Natasha asked in French giving the target a weak but sweet smile as she gestured towards her nearly empty glass. Bonaire sighed and shook her head causing her pretty blond curls to sway in the air.

"_No, thank you. I'm not really in the mood for a drink tonight_," Bonaire replied tiredly. Natasha searched the woman's face to judge if she was just lying to get her to leave or if she was honestly as exhausted as she looked.

It was a fifty/fifty chance for both.

"_You seem upset. Anything troubling you?"_ Natasha asked casually leaning against edge of the booth while trying to appear genuinely concerned. Bonaire picked up her nearly empty glass and swirled the tiny bit of champagne still left at the bottom.

"_Do you ever feel like your life is pointless and just on a repeated loop? Like you're doing the same things over and over again and there is no end in sight? Like living feels like a chore or even a nightmare that never ends?"_ Bonaire asked as she stared into her cup with solemn eyes.

The woman was clearly depressed and possibly suicidal.

Anyone else would have taken pity on the woman, but Natasha really had absolutely _no_ sympathy for her - if she hated her life she should have changed it before getting involved with the biggest crime organizations in France.

Now she was in too deep and even if Barton and her didn't kill her someone else will eventually.

Natasha was going to kill this blond chick regardless of her sob story.

"_That's a shame you think so lowly of life - it's such a beautiful thing,"_ Natasha said with a small sympathetic look gracing her softened features as she propped her head against her hand while still leaning against the edge of the booth.

Now that was one big fat lie that was even hard for _her_ to force through her cold Russian lips.

Life was _anything_ but beautiful.

"_Natasha_…," someone said warningly in her ear. Natasha paused in her interrogation as Barton interrupted her line of questioning she was about to dive into. Bonaire suddenly snorted as her face darkened.

_"If life was so beautiful why is it full of such dangerous and painful things_?" she asked heatedly in angry French as she threw her glass against the table and let it _shatter_ into a million tiny shards.

"Natasha the pervert is walking away from the poker game after losing to an even more shady looking man who won his wad of cash. There's an object that looks like a remote in his hand_,"_ Clint said tightly. Natasha continued to play her character to perfection and let genuine looking (but fake) shock cross her face as she stared at the mess of glass on the table in front of her target.

In her head she was thinking - we need to fix this mess and get things under control _now_.

"_Maybe you should step away from the danger and save yourself from the pain_," Natasha said to the target and her partner at the same time.

The next thing they all knew the poker table in the center of the room exploded.

_BOOM_!

Clint _swore_ and dived to the floor to avoid being hit by flying pieces of splintered wood and unfortunately the body parts of the people caught in the direct hit and crossfire. Clint's head whipped to the left and he caught sight of the bloody mess splatter across the center of the room. He nearly did and double take and _stared_.

This assassin was _insane_. He didn't just take out the man who was clearly his target - his collateral damage was insane and maddeningly unnecessary.

_"_Natasha, subdue the fucking target while I deal with this little bastard_,"_ Clint said heatedly in his com link before he swiftly pushed himself off the floor and angrily pursued the bomber assassin who was calmly strolling out of the chaos of screaming civilians and into the side hall leading away from the Casino floor.

Natasha locked eyes with Bonaire as the entire Casino erupted into madness behind the too calm looking redhead. Bonaire narrowed her eyes when Natasha didn't scream at the bloody mess in the center of the room. Natasha's jaw tightened - damn her lack of reaction gave her away.

"_Who are you?"_ Bonaire asked guardedly. Natasha knew they were busted beyond repair, so she promptly pulled out her gun and shoved it into the target's face.

"_I'm here to kill you - but I can't do that right now because I need you alive for just a bit long. So either you are going to get your ass off that cushion and walk out the back door with me or I'm going to knocked you out cold and drag your sorry ass out of here,"_ Natasha said evenly in perfect French so there was no way she would misunderstand. Bonaire stiffened and stared daggers at her sudden kidnapper.

"_What do you want from me_?" Bonaire asked heatedly. Natasha gave her a sharp deadly smile.

"_Nothing - because in less than 48 hours you're going to be dead and I'm going to be you_," Natasha said steadily as she shoved her gun harder into the mark's face and gestured for her to get up.

"_Start walking. And if you scream - I will shoot_ _you_," Natasha said coldly and without remorse. Bonaire stared at her merciless expression and icy dark eyes before she slowly stood up and started walking towards the back exit with the deadly Russian assassin following behind her. No one noticed them leave in the chaos that was happening behind them.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Meanwhile in a dark hall a blond man was whistling as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked away from all the screaming and shouting and cries of pain like it was all just background music floating through the air. That was until someone grabbed the back of his suit in a vice like grip and _slammed_ him into a wall and knocked the breath right out of his lungs.

"Who the _fuck_ are you?" Clint asked darkly as he roughly grabbed the man who just blew up 10 innocent people by the collar of his shirt and gave him a lethal glare. The blond gritted his teeth as his back roughly hit the wall and he found a cold and deadly looking blue eyed American seething in his face.

"Oh, I'm so scared. Are you going to punch me little American man?" the blond asked in a thick French accent and with an arrogant smirk that thoroughly pissed Clint off like no tomorrow. He _hated_ men like this.

_Click_.

The man tensed when Clint shoved a loaded gun into the side of his head and clicked the safety off. He was done with criminals and their twisted games. He wanted answers. He needed to know what type of threat to Natasha this man was. Clint didn't trust _anyone_ at this point. He trusted no one but his partner and all he knew was that he had to make sure to cover her back at all times.

_He can't lose her._

"Start talking and answer my questions or I'm going to blow your god damn brains through one ear and out the other," Clint said threateningly with deadly promises in his dark tone. _You unsettled my partner and I'm going to figure out why even if I have to shoot you into pieces. _

"What if I don't want to talk at gunpoint?" the man drawled lazily.

_BANG_!

The man flinched as the bullet scraped his face and buried itself into the wall beside his head. Clint's eyes darkened with dangerous killer intent. He was in no mood for games.

"I am _this_ close to losing my patience with you and just shooting a hole through your face - _so_ _start talking_," Clint growled warningly as he shoved the gun harder into the smart mouth assassin's forehead.

_No one is going to endanger his partner while he was still alive and breathing._

_No one._

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**A/N: Someone **_**PLEASE**_** fix my French before I make some poor French reader cry at butchering their beautiful language - sorry! I am Canadian but my French is crap. **

**Someone wanted Dark Clint? Well - when Natasha is in danger I think his darker side is going to make an appearance. A stressed and edgy Natasha inevitably stresses Clint out - and this is the result. They can't trust anyone and they are suspicious of everyone. **

**And with good reason. **

**I wonder what Barton is going to do to this man when he finds out who he is :) **

**Barton is not sadistic at all - but he'll kill to protect her. **

Transmettez mes amitiés à la dame chanceuse


	124. Chapter 124

**I Dare You **

**A/N: Barton is a BADASS. Regardless of his feelings towards a Russian assassin he is still a deadly badass. I apologize for not showcasing his badassness and letting his assassin skills shine as much as he deserves. **

**I shall rectify that…now. **

**Intro battle music **_**please**_**. **

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**Chapter 124 **

In a hallway above all the noise of the chaotic Casino floor downstairs one, one American agent was holding a French slime ball at gun point and he wasn't going to take no for an answer for very long.

"I'm going to shoot you in 5 seconds if you don't tell who you are _right now_," Clint said warningly for the last time. The French pervert just smiled creepily at him.

"5," Clint started counting with a menacing tone in his voice. The French man just shrugged even while held at gunpoint.

"You're quite a charmer," the pervert said causally. His eyes said it all - _I'm not afraid of you_. Clint's eyes flashed dangerously.

_You should be. _

"4," Clint continued as he narrowed his eyes. He wasn't going to play this game. He was going to shoot this bastard dead - he was too dangerous to let loose anyway.

"I'm waiting," the French man said impatiently. Clint gritted his teeth.

He had a death wish - clearly he did.

"3," Clint said giving the pervert a dead serious look that said - _I'm not bluffing. Does my gun look like it is bluffing to you? _

"Keep counting. _I dare you_," the man whispered daringly. Clint clenched his jaw as his nostrils flared in utter _frustration_.

"2," Clint said while tightening his hold on his gun in the clearly suicidal _idiot's_ face. He cocked the gun and readied to fire in one second.

That was the second the sleazy French pervert finally spoke.

"If you shoot me you'll never know what I know about Natasha Romanoff," he whispered damningly. Clint lost his grip on the trigger and _stared_ at him.

He felt heart instantly freeze in fear.

Holy _shit._

Who the hell _is_ he?

"You really should have shot me," the French man said frankly before he knocked the gun right out of Clint's hand and threw a punch at his face. Clint's face tightened and he immediately ducked and threw himself at the momentarily unbalanced man and knocked them both to the ground. They both instantly rolled in opposite directions and jumped to their feet at the same time.

The French guy had a gun.

Clint didn't.

_Shit_.

Clint was dived towards his fallen weapon in the corner while the man started firing on his ass. Clint grabbed his gun in one smooth motion and continued rolling right around the corner. The French man kept shooting and Clint quickly plastered himself against the wall as he glanced down at his shotgun which was really not his favourite weapon, but he has gotten a heck of a lot better at using it over the last year.

Shotguns are _her_ thing - not his.

But he learned how to be adaptable.

Clint took a deep breath and instantly fired a single shot around the corner and waited for the impact.

When the French guy's gun instantly shattered into a million metal pieces right in his hand Clint grinned _devilishly_ in success.

Perfect shot remember?

"What are you going to do now without a gun you _son of a bitch_," Clint muttered under his breath. He could have killed him - but he needed to know what _he_ knew. He heard the gun pieces clatter to the ground and listened to the man's steady breathing.

"I'm unarmed," the French man called out cautiously from down the hall.

"For some reason I don't believe you," Clint shouted back irritably. If he was Natasha he would likely just charge the bastard head on and just take out whatever back up weapons he had while he was in his face.

But he is _not_ Natasha.

So Clint changed the game to fit his speciality and backed away from the corner to get more distance between him and the threat. He dropped something halfway down the hall and started making his way up a flight of stairs and hid in the shadows as he waited for the seedy French assassin to make his move.

He didn't have to wait long.

5 seconds later the man rounded the corner and started firing from his obvious backup gun into the empty hallway. He stopped shooting when he realized _no one_ was there.

"Are you hiding like a scared little boy, you American hot shot?" the French man shouted across the hall. Clint took a deep breath but didn't answer him. He knew when to play his cards right. He was not an arrogant agent who was reckless to a fault.

Also, Clint did learn a _few_ things from his one and only partner he ever had and ever will have.

Like how bombs are your best friend when they are not being used against _you_.

Clint clicked something in the palm of his hand and watched the hallway between him and the French man explode into a bright flash of heat and colour.

_BOOM_!

The explosion that was more of a distraction tool then a lethal weapon and instantly threw the man off his feet and made him _crash_ into a wall and collapse onto the floor - just like Clint wanted. Clint peered around the corner and watched the man cough as he rolled over onto his side and groaned - he clearly broke something. Clint made sure his gun was secure and loaded before he cautiously made his way back down the stairs and carefully approached the moaning pain in his ass.

"I'm not scared of perverts - I killed sick perverts like you for a _living_," Clint spat in his face. The French man suddenly paused in his groans and opened a single eye as he stared up at the tense archer.

Clearly he was over-exaggerating his wounds.

"Do you even _know_ who she is? Has she even told you half the things she has done? You know you're both walking dead assassins right?" the bastard whispered in a foreboding tone.

Clint's eyes darkened - he was sick of staring at a mask. He promptly grabbed the shit talker's head and ripped his face clear off. He pulled the skin mask away and stared down at the roughly _scarred_ features under the pretty boy mask. He wasn't 30 - he was much older - maybe in his 40's. Half his face was a messy crisscross map of knifing scars and the twisted sneer on his face wasn't helping his aesthetic looks.

He was an ugly mess.

"Like what you see agent _Barton_?" the bastard whispered tauntingly. Clint's eyes hardened.

"_Russian scum_," Clint spat back viciously. He really hated Russian men. No _wonder_ his partner held such animosity for his gender. The men in her life were violent and unforgivable _assholes_. He was sure they must be good Russian men out there - but not from where _Natasha_ came from.

She came straight from hell and somehow survived the burning flames that tried to devour everything good in her. Clint only fights for her because he _knows_ there is good still left in her.

"Well aren't you a spiteful man," the Russian said haughtily before he grabbed something from his pocket and shoved it into the archer's eyes.

Clint's eyes immediately stared burning and he swore in pain.

_Fucking pepper powder. _

"A great blind sniper you are now eh Barton?" the Russian hissed as he shoved the SHIELD agent away from him. But Clint was faster then he anticipated and the next thing he knew the archer had a hand full of the pepper powder and had shoved it into _his_ eyes as well.

Pay back is a bitch.

"You _motherfucker_!" the Russian hissed as he grabbed his _own_ injured eyes and stumbled away from the equally temporarily blind archer. Clint fell to his knees and gasped as he tried to keep himself from succumbing to an intense heart attack triggered by his greatest fear.

If his vision doesn't come back in the next 3 minutes - Clint was going to _freak_. He could already feel the hyperventilating feeling start clawing at his chest and squeezing his lungs.

He was _nothing_ without his eyes.

If they took away his eyes he would be _nothing_.

Somehow Clint found the strength to crawl down the hall and angrily rub at the powder in his eyes as angry unwanted tears streamed down his face as the burning feeling started to subside. He felt his vision start to clear slowly and he could finally _breathe_ easily again.

"Oh thank _god_. I can see. _Thank god_," Clint gasped as he pressed his back against a wall and just _breathed_ as he stared at his blurry shaky hands in front of him. They were blurry but he could see them. He could _see_ them.

_Nothing without his eyes. Nothing without his eyes. Nothing without his eyes. _

Meanwhile Natasha had been silently listening to every word of the conversation happening between her partner and this unknown clearly a Red Room operative. She still couldn't tell which one of the Red Room assets e was just from his voice. She need to see his face. Natasha felt something cold fill her chest as she listened to her partner's deeply ragged breaths.

"_Barton_…," Natasha said warningly in his ear. Clint faltered for just a moment.

Role reversal anyone?

"Not now Natasha," Clint muttered under his breath as he finally got a hold of himself and started searching the dark halls for a Russian operative he was going to assassinate for his own reasons. No SHIELD. No mission. No orders.

_He was still going to kill him. _

"_Barton_," she repeated forcefully. She could hear a slight edge in his voice she has never heard in her _life_.

Barton is emotionally compromised.

The _true_ definition of emotionally compromised.

"Not _now_ Natasha!" Clint growled in frustration before he promptly _yanked_ the com link out of his ear and the line went dead.

_buzz_…..

Natasha stood there in unparallel shock.

He did not just cut off his com link on her.

He did _not_.

_How does it feel to be on the receiving end of an out of control partner's moment of insanity Natasha? _

"_Shit_," Natasha spat as she rounded on their target who was watching her with a guarded expression.

"_So are you going to kill me now or not_?" Bonaire asked suddenly bringing the Russian assassin back to her current problem. Natasha narrowed her eyes and clenched her hand around her gun as she watched the French woman stare at her weapon with a longing look.

_She's not afraid to die._

Natasha has the terrible feeling that their target just might be even asking for it. Natasha felt the heavy decision rest in cool metal weapon in the palm of her head. She can't leave her here. But she can't stay here either because she needs to stop her partner before he does something he is going to regret when he is finally back in the right state of mind. He's lost it. She needs to get him back.

Natasha stared at her target for several tense seconds.

"_Do you want to die_?" Natasha asked steadily in French. She was running out of time. She needed to leave _now_.

She watched Danielle Bonaire stare her dead in the eye with an insane level of conviction.

"_Yes_," she said evenly.

She was her target. Target wants to die.

What does she _do_ damn it?

Life just went to shit all around.

And it wasn't even D-day yet.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Clint leaned against a wall with his gun in his hand and tried to listen to the movements in the halls around him - he tried to locate where the Russian bastard went - but it was damn _difficult_ with the chaotic noise from down below interfering with his hearing. Clint silently moved along the edge with his back pressed against the wall as his eyes darted back and forth across the dim moonlit hall. He paused when he thought he felt something shift behind him. A familiar calming voice echoed in his mind.

_It's the shift in the air that gave you away. Most people can't feel that so you will be fine in 99 percent of scenarios._

Figures with his incredible bad luck he will inevitably encounter the 1 percent.

"_Boo_," someone whispered threateningly in his ear. Clint spun around ready to shoot but promptly felt a heavy vase _smash_ into the back of his head and knock him to the ground. Clint lost sight of the hallway as he collapsed to his knees and felt his face collide with the ground as his life blood seeped out of his skull and coat the stone cold floor beneath him. He heard a sickening snicker from above him and tried to open his suddenly heavy eyes to see the Russian operative standing over him with a twisted smirk on his face.

"Y-y-you little _fucker_," Clint spat in a uncoordinated daze as he tried to regain his focus on reality. He heard a booming laughter and clenched his jaw in frustration. The Russian shook his head and crouched down on the heels of his feet as he stared at the broken and fallen agent.

"She's nothing special Barton - I've already had her for myself," he whispered in his ear. Clint felt his blood run cold as his hands curled into fists. "You think you're unique? You're nothing but another notch on her bedpost. She has slept with _everyone_! Targets, other RR operatives and even some of our handlers. If it had a dick and can walk she banged it. The Widow is a _whore_. You got sold cheap used goods you _dull and dumb American_. You got our trash. You got what's left after we were _done_ with her," he spat cruelly.

Clint finally snapped.

"Fuck you Russian son of a _bitch_!" Clint roared as he threw himself at the Russian bastard and knocked them both to the ground. They both hit the floor with a loud _thump_ and rolled in a messy uncoordinated bundle of limbs while trying to get the upper hand on each other. The Russian ended up on top and held the furious SHIELD agent down with a sharp knowing sneer.

"Oh. _Oh_, I see. You're jealous because you think she's faithful to you now do you? You think she won't leave you for the next man more useful to her then _you_ are do you? You think you'll have the Widow in your bed for the rest of your life do you?" he asked tauntingly as he shook his head with a disappointed sigh.

_BAM! _

Clint _finally_ got one of his arms free and roughly punched the Russian in the face before he promptly flung him to the ground and punched him again and heard a satisfying _crack_ when he broken the sick Russian's nose.

But that wasn't enough. It wasn't _nearly_ enough.

"Shut the fuck up or I am going to beat you until you _bleed_ to death!" Clint growled in his face as he grabbed the Russian's collar and _slammed_ his fist repeatedly into the snickering bastard's face.

_BAM!_

_BAM! _

_BAM!_

The bastard's face just got bloodier and bloodier and he grinned up at the enraged archer. Clint wanted to break _every_ muscle in his face until he couldn't smirk like that _ever_ again.

"You're delusional Barton. She's not real. You're in love with an _illusion_. You're just one of hundreds of men who have fallen for her deadly web of lies. She was _trained_ to make men like you go crazy for her. If you think you want her it is because she molded herself into the woman you would desire - that's her _purpose_. That is want she is born to do. Pretty face, pretty words and pretty lies. That's all she is made of. Nothing is real about her. There is no such thing as love in our world - least of all for someone like her. She _can't_ love you. She's programmed not to be able to. You're a pathetic loser. Even if she left us she is just using you to stay _alive. You're her tool_," he hissed at him. Clint growled in frustration as he hit the bastard again and _again_ but he just could _not_ wipe the creepy grin off his _face_.

"You're _wrong_. You have no _idea_ how wrong you are. You don't know what goes on in her head at all!" Clint shouted in outrage with utter _fury_ flashing in his eyes. The Russian scoffed.

"And you _do_?" he shot back haughtily. Clint's expression darkened.

"You can't take every shred of humanity out of someone until they are _dead_!" Clint bellowed. The Russian just _laughed_ as blood poured out of his nose and pooled in his mouth.

"So then she's not human! She's an _experiment_! You're wasting your time!You should leave her before you get your little American heart broken agent Barton. You should leave her before she uses you as a shield. As her scapegoat. Before you _die_ protecting her when she never even _cared_ for you," the Russian hissed in his face.

Clint froze and felt fear claw at his heart. _Lies. Lies. Lies. She always lies to you Barton. She's planning things she's not telling you about. She's keeping things from you. She ditched you to see Barnes once - maybe she did it again. Maybe she really isn't scared. Maybe it is all an act. Maybe she really is working against you. Maybe she has been playing you all this time. Maybe you've really been seduced by the enemy this whole time. Maybe she really is using you._ But then he shook his head and glared daggers at the fucked up excuse for a human being bleeding all over the floor. Natasha nearly died for him - why would she _do_ that if any of this garbage this bastard was spewing was true?

And above all else.

_How dare he make him doubt his partner? When they worked so hard to trust each other in the first place?_

"Stop fucking with my _head_," Clint growled heatedly before he yanked the bleeding Russian off the ground and roughly slammed his body into the wall. The Russian promptly spat a mouthful of blood into Clint's face. Clint's eyes narrowed as he felt the disgusting warm liquid drip down his cheek.

"I warned you - don't say I didn't warn you Barton," the Russian said with a sinister sneer before he suddenly stabbed a sharp piece of the smashed vase into the archer's arm. Clint instantly hissed in pain as the thick jagged piece of glass dug into his arm and forced him to let go of the ruthless Red Room operative.

That was his biggest mistake.

The next thing he knew the Red Room scum forced them to switch places and suddenly Clint felt his already injured head get _smashed_ against the wall and black dots appear in his vision as cold Russian hands wrapped around his throat and _squeezed_. He choked as the ruthless Russian started to crush his throat without mercy.

"Where's your lovely loyal Widow _now_ agent Barton?" the Russian bastard whispered taunting in his ear as he tightened his death grip on the archer's throat and started crushed his trachea. He was going to kill this American and all that would be left of him would be a dead cold body to leave behind as a welcoming message for their rogue asset. She is going to come back to them - _after_ they take everything away from her.

The Red Room never let her go at all. They're just waiting and watching - how far can she run? How well can outsiders deprogram their operatives? How emotionally compromised can they become if not kept on a tight leash?

_BANG!_

The Russian's death grip on Clint's throat suddenly went limp as he felt a bullet tear straight through the joint in his shoulder and effective immobilize his entire arm. Clint _gasped_ as he finally got air into his oxygen deprived lungs and promptly shoved the bleeding Russian away from him and fell heavily against the wall as the blood loss messed with his vision and made him unable to see who just saved his ass.

But he knew who made that shot without having to see her. He doesn't have to see her to know it's _her_.

"Step away from my partner, _Marcovich_," a icy cold voice said threateningly from behind the equally beaten and bloody Russian holding his useless arm that hung lifelessly beside him. A slow sly deranged smirk curved across the Russian's face as he forget about the SHIELD agent gasping on the ground and slowly turned to face the deadly woman dressed in all black from head to toe, which only enhanced the fiery effects of her strikingly red hair that was out of its tight ponytail and fanned out around her shoulders. Natasha's eyes turned to steel when she saw his scarred face. She was right.

_She knows who he is now. _

"Oh are we on last names now Natalia? No longer Rafael to you am I? After all the lovely violent and bloody assignments we've done together?" Marcovich asked with a sickening leer. Natasha tightened her jaw and narrowed her eyes.

"You were always one of the most blood crazy operatives," Natasha said guardedly. Marcovich _burst_ out laughing and nearly fell over in his hysterics. _She_ was the one telling _him_ about blood lust?

She was a god damn bloody _legend_ in Russia.

"Are you seriously playing the righteous assassin card Romonova?" he asked in disbelief as he wiped a fake tear from his eyes before his expression turned vicious and menacing. "I wasn't the only who loved torturing her targets _Natalia_," he hissed while he shot her a sharp accusing glare. Natasha took a deep breath as she tried to beat down the memories that threatened to take over her mind - but then his voice entered her thoughts and pushed the memories back and gave her the ability to breathe.

_I forgive you. I forgive you. I forgive you, Tasha. _

"My name is _not_ Natalia," Natasha said through gritted teeth. Natalia was someone else in her mind now. Marcovich flicked a piece of nonexistent lint off his blood covered no longer white suit and gave her a bored unimpressed look.

"I knew you didn't recognize me when I approached you _Natasha. _Changing your name doesn't change the things you have done. It doesn't change the fact that we made you into our little prodigy _chernaya vdova (Black Widow). _You're still the killer we designed you to be. You're still ruthless. You're just lying to yourself - you're never going to change," he said with a deadly sneer that had arrogance colouring his words. Natasha didn't even blink. She was sick of listening to his annoying voice.

_BANG! BANG! _

She promptly shot the back of both his legs and brought him to his knees with a loud _crash_. Marcovich just laughed as he fell in front of the still dead silent archer who was watching everything with killer sharp eyes.

_If she doesn't take the shot - he will. _

Marcovich stopped laughing as he looked up and stared _right_ at him.

"You know what my job was Barton? My job was to break the new recruits. My job was to see how much pain the girls could take before their fragile minds would break. Most of them would break without hours - but I got to stick knives and sharp pins in little Natalia for _days_ and she _still_ wouldn't scream. I got to watch her cry and cry like the little girl she was until she had no tears left. I got to burn her skin with iron rods and watch it blister and feaster with a killer infection the doctors had to get rid of a week later. I got to break every bone in her arms - until she _finally screamed for me_," he whispered with sick twisted pleasure in his dark _truly_ sadistic eyes. Natasha's sadism was nothing compared to him.

One look at Clint and you knew he was about to commit a bloody _massacre_.

Natasha promptly shoved her gun into the side of the Red Room operative's head and used her foot to push her extremely murderous looking partner _back_ against the wall with the bottom of her boot before he _lunged_ at the Russian again. His eyes were blown wide with rage and all he could see was red hot anger blinding his vision. Natasha shot Clint a deadly warning look. His jaw clenched tightly and his whole body tensed as it vibrated with suppressed anger. Only the promise that the Black Widow doesn't bluff about her threats kept him from tearing that scumbag to pieces. Her stare said it all.

_Don't you dare say a word or move a muscle - or I'll kill you._

She's pissed off. He's pissed off.

The killer assassin sides of both the Black Widow and Hawkeye are truly butting heads.

Nothing good happens when they are both equally _this_ pissed off.

"Stop talking Marcovich or I am going to stab you in the throat and _rip_ your vocal cords out," Natasha said threateningly from above them. Marcovich laughed darkly and shook his head as he stared into cold eyes of the shaking American agent he _almost_ got to strangle to death.

He knew he couldn't break the Widow. She was too strong. She was already broken in the worst ways imaginable. Broken and remade so many times she was nearly immune to physical pain. No - he couldn't touch her.

But he could break the mind of the pathetic agent wheezing harshly in front of him. He could break the man who _meant_ something to her. So pathetic and weak because his mind has never been played with.

Not yet anyway.

"The Natasha _you_ know is going to get shot down and burned to death and you can't do _anything_ to stop it," Marcovich sneered in his face as he braced his good arm against the floor to keep his broken body from falling on his face. He was on his knees - but so was the angry SHIELD agent in front of him.

Clint breathed heavily and his eyes steeled just like Natasha's does when she is having severely homicidal thoughts flashing through her mind and clouding her senses. He still couldn't talk due to the heavy bruising around his neck but he could still use his arms. Clint purposefully raised his gun and mercilessly _shot_ the bastard in the face before Natasha could stop him.

_BANG_!

Marcovich stumbled backwards due to the impact of the unexpected bullet and crashed into the window behind him and disappeared over the edge. The sheer shock on his face proved that he didn't think a mere SHIELD agent could take a merciless shot like that.

But Barton wasn't just a SHIELD agent. He was a man who just watched the most important woman in his life be threatened beyond bearable reason. You can't expect him to bear that kind of pain. Maybe he'll never get to kill the first man to touch his partner. Maybe he'll never get to kill the Red Room handlers that took her life away from her.

But the things _this_ Red Room scum did to her were equally just as damning. And being forced to listen to the things he did to her? To a little 9 year old girl?

_That breaks people. _

Clint shoved himself off the ground and shot forward to make sure the bastard was thoroughly dead on impact from the second story fall but felt his partner drag him back away from the gap as a search light flashed through the broken window. The French bomb squad and SWAT teams were here to clear and secure the compromised Casino building.

"We have to _go_ Barton!" Natasha said insistently. Even _she_ knew when it was time to leave whether you won the fight or not. Clint finally got enough air into his lungs that he could finally _answer_ her.

"He's not dead _Natasha_," Clint said darkly in his rough recently strangled voice while struggling against her unyielding grip on his injured arm. The things that man said. The way he talked to her. The look in his dark Russian eyes as he looked at her like he knew _exactly_ what lay beneath her civilian clothes and it disgusted him beyond compare made something snap deep inside Clint's highly controlled mind. Clint _never_ loses control like Natasha. He just _doesn't_. He had years to perfect his iron control on his killer side. He locked it down years ago. He had 5 _years_ of SHIELD training to keep himself under control. No one has ever gotten him angry enough to lose _that_ base level of his control. Natasha stared at her partner as he rapidly deteriorated right before her very eyes and sharply _slapped_ him across the face.

Clint's head whipped to the side and he stared icy daggers at her as he breathed in harsh ragged breaths as blood poured down the side of his face from his likely concussed head injury.

"You shot him in the _face_!" Natasha hissed angrily. _How much more do you want Barton?_

"I still don't think he is _dead_," Clint said menacingly. He wished he shot him a second time. Many even a _third_ time just to make sure his ugly Russian face was well and thoroughly bloody and _ruined_.

Just like how he played a key role in systematically ruining his partner's _childhood - her entire god damn life_.

Sirens were sounding loudly behind the them near the front of the Casino building and they knew their time was up. Natasha angrily glanced behind her as she curled her fist around the front of his shirt to make sure he didn't go anywhere - like on another manhunt to thoroughly murder a man he just shot and caused to drop out a second story window.

"They're going to secure the building and take everyone in for questioning Barton - we have to leave _now. Right now_," Natasha said angrily shaking him back and forth because he is _never_ like this. _She_ was the one who got like this. Not him. He was supposed to be the voice of reason between the two of them. She wasn't ready to handle a Barton with homicidal murder in his eyes.

"You shouldn't have done that Barton!" she shouted at him angrily. She can't believe she was the one telling him right from wrong - that was _his_ job to tell _her_. He brought unnecessary amounts of attention on them and now they were going to be utterly screwed.

Clint really didn't care.

He regretted a lot of his kills. Almost a good fifty percent he regretted. But he doesn't regret killing a man that did those things to her. He was _worse_ then Yago.

_I killed him for you Tasha. _

"Are you okay?" he asked steadily while taking another deep yet harsh on his lungs breath. Natasha felt her breath catch in her own throat as she saw the darkness clear and fade from his eyes and familiar concern flooded his sharp blue gaze as they locked with her slightly weary ones. She's never seen this side of him before. It almost shook her faith in him - _almost_.

_But he's still Clint. _

_How can she judge him when he has never judged her? _

_How?_

_She can't. _

"I'm okay, Clint," she whispered softly as she felt him smear his own warm blood along the side of her face as he cupped her cheek like he normally does. Under all the insanity and the blood and the dark burning rage he was still _her_ Clint. He shot that Red Room operative because of how he once harmed _her_.

He completely _screwed up_ and did what he has been trying to prevent _her_ from doing to Yago this whole time. Killing someone because they hurt someone important to you.

_But the things this bastard said…_

It makes the archer's blood boil and all rational thought _flee_ as the scary part of his mind that always lurked deep in the background of his screwed up psyche took over just _thinking_ about it.

"Then let's get out of here," Clint said guardedly before he grabbed her hand and firmly tugged her down the dark hall with purposefully steps and a single minded determination on his face. For once Natasha let him do the leading as she just stared at his battle weary figure. His muscles were tense and the adrenaline was clearly pumping through his bulging veins apparent running up and down his bleeding arms along with his insanely high heart rate at the moment. He was _covered_ in his own blood. There were glass shards wedged in his forearms. He was clearly in unbelievably amounts of pain and yet he was still holding her hand in a steel firm but gentle grasp. Teeming with uncontrollable _rage_ but still _gentle_.

The things her partner was truly capable of not even Natasha Romanoff knows.

Barton makes a point not to show people what he can truly do when he loses his own control.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Props to Rafael Marcovich for being the ultimate asshole - he managed to piss Clint Barton off to the point of no return. Damn that things that man said and did to Natasha would piss anyone off - let alone the man who would do anything for her. You think Natasha makes Clint angry all the time? JOKE! She never made him truly angry. Not really. Clint never loses it even when he yells at her and is frustrated beyond belief - he is still in control. **

**So - how did you like Dark Clint and his badass chapter? Did he do the right thing? Was there even a right respond to what Marcovich did? He was clearly trying to kill Barton so it COULD be self defense….**

**THIS IS CLINT'S **_**REAL**_** ANGRY! And it is - SCARY (an out of control type of murderous). We really haven't seen it before. Is it surprising? **

**On a side note - what did Natasha do to Danielle Bonaire? The suicidal target? **

**It all depends on her personal code of conduct as this point. **

**Grey. Grey. Grey. Grey. ;) (50 shades of grey?…should meet Clintasha). **


	125. Chapter 125

**I Dare You **

**A/N: Well…that was intense. WHO SAID THE MISSION IS OVER? DID YOU NOT READ THE COULSON BRIEFING? **

**The REAL mission hasn't even started yet baby :D The D-day is the crime meeting happening near the Eiffel Tower remember? **

**Danielle Bonaire is just a necessary obstacle in the way of the true mission. Natasha needs to be her - so she needs to be removed from the equation. **

**Have I even done a straight simply assassination my friends? **

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**Chapter 125 **

They don't really know how they did it. Staying out of sight in a building swarming with police and SWAT teams. Clint was a bloody mess that looked like a flashing neon-sign that said 'COME QUESTION ME YOU PUNY AUTHORITIES- I LOOK LIKE A DIRTY CRIMINAL'.

And they wouldn't be entirely wrong at the moment either.

"Don't check under the stairs. No one checks under the stairs. Officers always go for the obvious locations," Natasha muttered to herself beside his ear as she pressed him further into the shadows under the large staircase half to hide herself from view and half to keep him upright because they both knew he would not be able to hold up his own weight for long. They silently listened to the entire French SWAT team race up the stairs above them as they held their breath and felt the adrenaline continue coursing through their veins. Dust and filth floated down on top of them from the sheer force of military grade boots hitting the stairs but neither of them gave two shits at the moment. Natasha tightened her grip on his shirt and took several deep breaths. If they get caught SHIELD would eat them _alive_.

"Calm down Tasha or they'll hear you," Clint said quietly as he tiredly leaned his forehead against her shoulder. He was exhausted and everything hurt at the moment. Natasha tensed.

He really shouldn't have said that.

Frankly - he should have kept his mouth shut the entire time until she didn't feel like offing him and being done with this crap job and the mess he landed them in. She roughly shoved his head off of her and forced him to face her flashing eyes.

"_Shut up._ You are going to shut up and not say a word to me until _I _say you can talk to me - understand?" Natasha growled in his face. Clint leaned his bleeding head back against the cool stone wall and just watched her glare at him through concussion heavy eyes.

"Are you really that angry that I shot Marcovich or are you just angry that you never got to shoot him for _yourself_?" he asked tiredly with a knowing look.

Natasha froze against him and he reached out to touch her cheek gently.

"What did they _do_ to you Tasha? What did they do?" he asked quietly."All the things Marcovich said. All the horrible things he spewed from his sick disgusting mouth - they're true aren't they Tasha?" he asked barely above a whisper. Natasha gritted her teeth and fiercely shook her head. He was concussed and he wasn't thinking clearly or about their survival right now. The things that Russian bastard said were playing like a broken record in his head. He was going to drive himself insane imagining what the Red Room did to her.

_The idiot_.

There was a reason she didn't tell him those things.

"We don't have _time_ to discuss this here. Let's go," Natasha said as she dragged him out from under the stairs and pulled him out the back doors down the hall. They were out of the Casino in less than a minute and speedily putting distance between them and Barton's police swarmed murder scene as fast as _he_ could move - which wasn't that fast at all. For the most part he wasn't really paying attention to which streets they were going down - he left that up to her to keep track of.

Sometimes it paid off to have a partner you trusted with your life - especially when you felt like shit as the adrenaline eased off and the aching pain settled into your brain and you got a killer headache.

"_Wait_," Natasha said curtly as she suddenly stopped walking and nearly caused the already unbalanced archer to nearly lose his footing and almost fall to his knees due to the dizziness still messing with his head. He had already lost so much blood. Clint gave his partner a _what the hell_ look as he was forced to lean on her to keep his balance.

"We have to _leave_ Natasha," Clint mumbled irritably tugging on her hand but she was relentless as she turned around and _dragged_ him down a side alley.

_Now_ he was more focused on their survival. She really got sick of his bipolar ways sometimes.

"No. We need to pick up something before we go back to our hotel," she said firmly. Clint gritted his teeth as she led him deeper into the dark curving alley.

"Natasha the police are going to search these alleys any minute now," Clint said tightly. Natasha ignored him but increased the pressure on his hand until he winced from the bruising vice like grasp.

Natasha didn't care.

He deserved the pain.

At least some of it.

"If you're so fucking scared of the police maybe you should not have shot a man in the face and left the body for them to find," she hissed at him. Clint faltered in his protest and finally just let her tighten her death grip on his hand and viciously yank him around another corner. She stopped them beside a dumpster and carefully let go of his hand but made sure to keep direct eye contact as she backed away from him and moved closer to the dumpster.

"Stay - _right there_," she said warningly. Clint simply stared at her warily. She was treating him like a dangerous animal.

It was kind of depressing how the tides have changed and they were singing opposite tunes now.

"I'm not going to freak out and become a mindless serial killer Natasha. That's not how I work," Clint said with heavy sigh. He could tell she didn't know what the hell to make of him after his little show inside the Casino.

He had _lost_ it.

He knew that. She knew that. Hell, the Russian bastard knew that before he fell out the window.

"Normal people don't get that angry Barton," Natasha said guardedly. Clint's face turned grim.

"You do," he pointed out evenly. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

_That's what scared her. _

"You're not me," she said edgily. _You're not supposed to be like me. You're supposed to be the good one. You're supposed to be better than me. _Clint shook his head sadly as he watched her image of him break in her eyes.

"Maybe I just ruined some of your preconceived notions about me Natasha. But I'm not perfect. I _never_ said I was perfect. I shot him. I _know_. I shot him," he said in defeat while running a tired hand through his bloody hair. He glanced down and saw glass shards in his hand.

He was in _really_ bad condition. Natasha glanced down and noticed the glass too.

"We need to clean you up," she said tightly looking away from him and turned to face the dumpster. She promptly grabbed the lid and threw it open. She peered inside and sighed in relief. Clint glanced over her shoulder and grimaced at what he saw.

"You...dumped her in a _dumpster_?" Clint spoke slowly - not completely understanding how the _Widow_ (of all people) came up with this (_not_) brilliant plan. Natasha shot him a vicious glare.

"She's not _dead_ you idiot," Natasha hissed as she grabbed the unconscious body of Danielle Bonaire and expertly _hauled_ her ass out of the garage pit. Clint stared at her.

"Still…a _dumpster_?" he asked in quiet disbelief as she dragged the woman out of the depth of garbage hell. Natasha gave him a dirty look.

"I needed her alive and I needed her outside - it was the easiest place to temporarily hide her," she said heatedly. Clint gave her a wary look.

"You tazed her instead of killing her," he said cautiously. Natasha paused.

The irony was not lost on either of them.

"Yes," Natasha said carefully. Clint sighed and quickly stepped forward to grab one arm of the target and threw it over his good shoulder so that his partner didn't have to carry all the weight.

"So this is why it took you nearly 10 minutes to come after me," Clint said quietly as they slowly dragged the French woman down the alley. Natasha's eyes darkened.

"Maybe I should have just shot her and come knock some sense into you _sooner_," Natasha growled with anger simmering under her tone. She was not happy with him - not at all.

He was a god damn _hypocrite_.

"This is weird," Clint muttered as they approached a dimly lit street. If anyone asked, their friend here was drunk…and Clint got into a really messy bar fight - and lost (though he obviously didn't).

They didn't think that was a good enough lie, but it was the best they had at the moment.

"What is weird?" she asked carefully. Clint shrugged but then winced when that agitated the glass embedded in his arms.

"I feel like you should change your name to Clint and my name should be Natasha right now," he muttered under his breath. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"You're not the only one," she muttered back as she stopped them in front of a shiny black car parked at the edge of a quiet empty street. She gave it a once over to make sure there were no alarms and nodded.

"This is going to be our ride - I can't drag both of you back to our hotel half way on the other side of Paris," Natasha muttered as she fished a bobby pin out of her pocket. Clint glanced at her and then at the car.

"I feel _bad_," Clint grumbled as he stared at the sleek black Lamborghini they were going to steal sitting in front of them.

Natasha paused in her hijacking and stared at him.

"Are you kidding me? The guy who owns this monster is probably a _billionaire_!" Natasha hissed in outrage. They have stolen _hundreds_ of cars on their missions - what was so different now?

Clint sighed and stared at the car with solemn eyes.

"Not for the filthy rich French guy - the _car_. The poor baby is going to be ruin with my dirty _blood_," Clint groaned as he banged his bloody forehead against the fancy car.

Natasha stared at him again.

Yeah, he was severely concussed. Clearly he was going to be delusional and a pain in her ass until she got him into their fancy hotel washroom and thoroughly checked him over and fixed the mess he created.

Natasha suddenly paused as she replayed her own thoughts.

…_and fixed the mess he created._

That sounded so wrong in her head. She doesn't fix his messes. He always fixes _hers_.

What was the world coming to?

Natasha promptly dropped Danielle Bonaire to the ground without a care for her health and carefully shoved her partner out of the way before she picked the lock on the car and started rewiring the circuit boards underneath the steering wheel without another word.

Forget the Lamborghini - she was pissed and she needed to regroup and rework their entire mission action plan back in their hotel now - _after_ she fixed him.

He created more _work_ for her - that bastard.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

30 minutes later they were finally standing in front of their hotel room - _finally_. Clint was awkwardly holding up most of the target's weight (mostly bracing her against the wall) while Natasha whipped out their keycard and swiped it to open the door.

"She's really _heavy_," Clint muttered as Natasha took back most the weight and dragged the target inside. She shot him a _no shit_ _she is dead weight_ look while he slowly dragged his aching body into the room behind her.

"And you're really concussed - shut up," Natasha muttered back as she used her foot to shut the front door behind them. She promptly took one look at her bloody, dirty and just _gross_ looking partner and made up her mind on the spot. "Go in the bathroom - sit in the tub. You are not getting blood all over the bed and scaring the cleaning service to death," Natasha ordered swiftly and with military efficiency. She really can't deal with him _and_ Bonaire right now.

"I can help with her-," he started to protest but she levelled him with a cold piercing glare that instantly shut him up.

"No. You really _can't_. Washroom - right now," Natasha said with finality. They had a war of wills between blue and green eyes - unfortunately Natasha always won those type of wars. Clint finally backed down after 2 minute when his head started spinning and grudgingly dragged himself into the bathroom with a sullen expression.

She really didn't care if he sulked in there or not.

The second he was out of sight Natasha dragged the target onto their second bed in the hotel room and shuffled through her mission gear in her bag until she came up with two pairs of hand cuffs that were nearly impossible to get out of unless you were an expert escape artist like her.

She highly doubted Danielle Bonaire was as skilled as her.

She cuffed both her wrists to the metal headboard and then leaned down to whisper in the target's ear.

"I know you're awake and I know you're pissed that I didn't kill you - but you know what? I saw the bomb implants in your collarbone and I understand where your suicidal desire is coming from. Unlike other girls trapped in your situation you've survived through hell - you should live. They won't blow you up until they know _you_ are compromised and in enemy hands. We have 48 hours until your meeting with Roussel in the café near the Eiffel Tower. Me and my partner work for a very powerful organization with an world class Medical team at their beck and call - they can get it out of you in less than a day. If you cooperate and tell me everything we want to know - I'll get you out of France and free of the bomb in less than 24 hours. If you still want to die - give me the information I want and I will _gladly_ shoot you," Natasha offered steadily in the woman's ear. She pulled back and stared at the still fake sleeping French woman.

She wasn't going to accept or decline so fast.

Natasha didn't really expect her to.

"Think about my offer Bonaire. I don't want to kill you but I will if you _make_ me," Natasha said as she spun around and walked over to the side of the room with their weapons gear and medical equipment.

"And if you somehow miraculously manage to get out of those cuffs - I have a video reel of the room and I _will_ subdue you. I have unpleasant ways of making people talk - trust me, you don't want me to use those. We're not the government - don't think we're bound by the law. Trend carefully Bonaire," Natasha said carefully as she picked up her medkit and her surveillance tablet before she walked straight passed the target and into the washroom currently housing her injured partner.

He was always her first priority.

.

.

.

.

.

_Click_.

Clint barely managed to glance up from his pitiful place sitting still fully clothed in the white hotel tub now stained with his blood pooling around him as he rested his aching head sideways against the edge of the tub. His jeans were soaked through and his black long-sleeved shirt was torn up but stuck to his firm broad chest like a second layer of skin. The wooden door suddenly swung open without warning and he watched his stone-faced partner purposefully walk into the thankfully rather large washroom and shut the door behind her quietly.

At least she wasn't walking in here with spitfire anger like he half expected.

Clint watched her silently drop the medical supplies on floor beside the tub and prop the tablet against the toilet. She had her back to him so he couldn't make out the expression on her face until she took a deep breath and turned around. He was about to ask why she was wearing her scary blank mask when he watched her slowly slid down the wall and sit on the ground beside him.

They were finally alone and it was the closet position to safe as they were ever going to get at this point.

"You shouldn't have killed him," she said in a faraway voice as she stared at the floor. Clint looked alarmed at her sudden reaction. What was _wrong_?

"Why?" Clint asked guardedly. "After everything that man did to you and hundreds of other little girls why shouldn't he be dead?" he said trying to keep his anger in check. He wasn't going to lose it again - not when it was just them (and their target).

"You really shouldn't have killed him Clint," Natasha said banging her head back against the bathroom wall and covering her face with one hand. Clint still didn't see why this was stressing her out so much.

"We're already on your past employer's shit list Natasha - killing one of their own shouldn't make a difference," he said carefully. Natasha shook her head.

"You don't _get_ it," she said in a hollow voice. Clint stared at her clearly shaken form and lowered his eyes. He still didn't understand - but he didn't want to make her feel like she was obligated to be here and help him.

"I can fix myself-," he started to offer but she instantly shot that option down.

"Be quiet and give me 3 minutes," she said simply as she took several more deep breaths. Clint knew she had her own way of dealing with things so he just sat there and watched her internalize whatever she needed to internalize. It was a unspoken honour for him to be allowed to watch her piece herself back together so that she can do her job as his partner. He could tell what she was doing.

She was compartmentalizing him again. It was the only way she could deal with him being this beat up.

Clint felt his eyes start to drupe as he felt the exhaustion kick in as it got harder and harder to stay awake. He didn't even realize he had nearly fallen asleep until he felt someone gently grab his uninjured shoulder and shake him slightly.

"Don't fall asleep with an untreated head injury. Sit up," Natasha said quietly. Clint blinked awake and slowly lifted his drowsy head off the edge of the tub to look up at her. She still had the unsettled look in her deep green eyes, but it was more controlled and she looked more ready to give him medical aid (as ready and qualified as an unstable assassin can ever be).

"Why aren't you happy he's dead Tasha? Don't you care about the things he said? About how he treated you?" Clint asked desperately trying to understand how she could be upset at the death of a man who deserved the bullet from his gun. He deserved it so _much_. Natasha slowly shook her head.

"You don't understand how my world works Barton. Killing Marcovich is like sending the message that we want the entire wrath of the Red Room to come down on us. It's like burning down the white house and not expecting the CIA to come after you," she said steadily as she grabbed his face and checked it over. She made him tilt his head down as she took a look at the mess on top of his head.

"Tell me how you got the worst injures," she said carefully as she assessed his messy head wound. Clint closed his eyes and willed himself not to wince as she carefully carted her fingers through his hair and judged how bad the glass cuts were.

"Smashed me in the head with a glass vase. Threw me into a wall. Strangled me. Stabbed me in the arm with glass. Threw Pepper powder into...my eyes," he finished reciting the list with a slight hitch in his voice. Natasha didn't comment on the last stutter.

He was a sniper. An archer. A distance fighter. It didn't take a genius to guess what his most important body part was.

"And how are you even alive after all that I wonder?" she asked with slight irritation as she picked up a pair of tweezers and started carefully pulling out the small glass pieces from his scalp. Clint frowned as she worked to clear his wound.

"I'm made of tougher stuff then you give me credit for Tasha," he said quietly as he tried not to repeatedly wince and flinch from her gentle but still painful tugs. She just continued clearing his head of glass until it was all out of his hair and now sitting in a large pile on the floor beside her. She then picked up a sanitary wipe and started clearing the blood away from the cut above his brow.

"You shouldn't have gotten that angry- not over something as stupid as what someone did to me over a decade ago," she said carefully. Clint would have shook his head if she wasn't holding his face in a firm but gentle grip.

He watched her work silently before he reached out to her - in more ways than one.

"I'm not sorry," he said softly as he reached out and grabbed onto her arm that was wiping the blood away from his face. Natasha paused as she felt him squeeze lightly, but then continued disinfecting the cut.

"I know - just like I wasn't sorry when Yago got assassinated. We're in the same boat," Natasha muttered reluctantly as she put the wipe down and started covering his forehead with medical gauze. Clint furrowed his brow as she taped the gauze into place.

"We were always in the same boat Tasha," he said trying to keep the slight hurt out of his voice. _Haven't they done everything together?_ Natasha's eyes darkened.

"No. We _weren't_. Some things about us will never be the same Barton," she said carefully. Clint's eyes darkened.

"Like how you were tortured and traumatized as a child?" he asked tensely. She never told him what the Red Room did to her. _Never_. He had to find out from her damn torturer _himself_. Natasha paused and gave him an extremely deadly piercing stare.

"I survived. I'm a _survivor_. Not a victim. Don't twist me into a damsel in distress Barton - I am in _no_ need of _rescuing_," she said very, very clearly. Clint instantly looked ashamed and deflated.

"I don't think you are a victim Tasha. I'm not trying to rescue you. I just…I just…," he struggled to verbalize what he couldn't say in words that she wouldn't interpret as insulting to her independence. He had the words - but not the _right_ words.

_I want to protect you. Somehow. Someway. In some form. Let me protect you. _

But he couldn't say that or she might just get up and leave him _right this second_.

"…You want to be a good partner," she supplied for him suddenly. Clint sighed and nearly collapsed in relief.

"Yes. _Yes,_ I want to be a good partner," he said earnestly.

"Then you should trust me," she said in the same breath. Clint faltered.

"I do trust you Natasha-"

"No. You obviously don't trust me enough to fight my own demons," she said a bit sharper then she intended to. Clint winced.

"No, you don't understand. I _do_ know you can handle yourself fine Natasha. It wasn't that. He was…he was messing with my head Tasha. I wasn't thinking clearly," Clint admitted tiredly. _Everything he said just made me angrier and angrier. _Natasha suddenly sighed heavily.

"I know. That's one of our specialties," she said quietly running a hand through the glass free side of his head. Clint leaned into her comforting touch that was the only thing that made the current pain all over his body bearable. _He hasn't lost her yet._

"You need to take your shirt off so that I can get to the glass in your arms," Natasha said with a clinical glance at the blood soaking through his sleeve. Clint suddenly stiffened.

"_No_," he said steadily. Natasha paused at the forceful tone in his refusal. That was unexpected.

"I can't treat the wound with the bloody fabric in the way," she said slowly, like she was talking to a small child - because he was acting like one right now. Clint sharply shook turned his head and stared at the tiles beside him.

"Then cut the sleeves off," he muttered irritably. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"That's more _work _Barton," she said tightly. She watched his eyes darkened and his jaw tightened.

"Then _get out_ and I'll do the rest myself," he said heatedly without budging an inch. Natasha gave him warning look. Now he was just being difficult.

"You're being unreasonable Barton," she said warningly. Clint's eyes flashed.

"I don't _care_," he said carefully. Natasha watched the tension in his body spike without a reason. she glanced at his stiff back for a few seconds as he involuntarily leaned away from her before she rapidly concluded his irrational response.

"I'm not afraid of your scars Barton. I'm not going to run away screaming like a pathetic frightened little girl because of the horrors etched on your skin," she said carefully. If she could keep her scars she would have had a lot more ugly ones then him.

She watched the blood drain slightly from his face as his breathing picked up slightly.

"Cut them off - or _leave_ Romanoff," he said evenly. Natasha instantly threw the gauze in her hand onto the floor.

"You're being a _child _Barton!" she growled in irritation. Clint glared at her fiercely.

"You're not respecting a simply _request_ Natasha!" he said angrily. _I respect your boundaries - why can't you respect mine?_

They never outright say the words between the lines. That would make things too real.

"It's just _scars_," she muttered darkly. Clint's eyes flashed dangerously.

"It's _not_ just scars Natasha!" he shouted suddenly going on highly defensive mode. Natasha recoiled at his unexpected outburst and he gritted his teeth as he angrily rubbed his good hand over his face in frustration.

They both went silent as his loud voice echoed around the four tightly closed in walls. Clint took a few deep breaths as he tried to calm down and get a hold of himself.

"It's…it's not just scars," he said a lot quieter. Natasha gave him a long cautious look before she moved back closer to him when she was sure he wasn't going to lash out or anything.

"You have an unhealthy number of triggers Clint," Natasha said guardedly a she picked up the medical scissors and neatly cut his soiled sleeve right off. Clint sighed heavily.

"It didn't matter before," he said quietly as he watched her clear away the glass and blood from his large wound in his arm. She then picked up a needle and sterilized it. He gave it a weary look. She noticed his quick glance - she always did.

"You need stitches. Either I do it - or I send you to the ER and _they_ do it," she said carefully leaving no room for argument on the issue of requiring stitches. Unlike her, he can get an infection and die from it. Clint stiffened at the mention of a hospital.

"I _hate_ hospitals," he said tightly. Natasha didn't even ask if he was sure - she hated them herself. They both did after being hooked up to machines for two months.

"This is going to hurt like hell - I don't have any painkillers," she warned as she held the needle and string to his skin. Clint took a deep breath and curled his hands into fists.

"Just _do_ it Tasha," he muttered as he looked away and determinedly stared at the wall.

She pricked his skin where the large cut started and began tediously sewing up his wound so that he can live to shoot his arrows another day. She made sure to be very careful because she knew how important his arms were. She also know how much trust it must have took for him to let her near his arms with a needle at all. They both knew how to sew up a wound on themselves. This was a luxury. Natasha studied the entire length of the cut and frowned.

From what she could tell - he needed at least 8 stitches.

He didn't make a sound.

.

.

.

.

.

.

When they were finally done cleaning up the mess Clint had made of his body Natasha handed him a fresh set of his clothes and turned around to give him the privacy to change - but she refused to leave due to the head injury. She sat on the toilet and pulled out her SHIELD phone. She was going to run things by Coulson because he was going to find out sooner or later - and his response will be less severe if it was sooner.

Besides - he could help make her end of the deal to Bonaire actually possible and not just a bold faced _lie_. Natasha has no qualms about lying to targets to get what she wants…but she should try to help - it's the right thing to do. But it would be so much more _work_ than just shooting the woman…

Natasha suddenly gritted her teeth. This 'right thing to do' business was really _bothersome_.

"_Natasha_," Clint said with a tired and exasperated sigh from behind her. Natasha didn't even pause in her typing. Coulson was not going to be impressed by their decision _not_ to eliminate this target.

"What is it Barton?" Natasha asked as she started planning how out to use their target in custody to get the mannerisms and profile information she needed in a possibly unorthodox spy method. If the target would cooperate she could get everything she needed to imitate her to perfection in less than a few hours.

"I can't get the sleeve through my arm without messing up your brilliant sewing skills," Clint said with slight hint of frustration in his voice.

Natasha's busy strategic thoughts promptly came to a screeching halt as she replayed what her partner just said. She glanced at him standing in his under shirt behind her with another SHIELD issued black shirt halfway over his head and she raised an eyebrow.

"Really?" she asked flatly. Clint scowled at her less then amused look.

"Fine. Forget I asked," he muttered as he childishly turned away from her and tried to ease his injured arm into the sleeve without bending it. It was a fruitless endeavour however. Natasha watched him struggle for all of 20 seconds before she finally took pity on him. She got up and tugged the shirt right off of him before she held the arm sleeve open in front of him.

"Put the stupidly injured arm through the sleeve first - and _then_ the rest of your injured self," she said with a _you deserve this_ look. Clint huffed.

"Oh, so _now_ you have come to my rescue," he mumbled sarcastically - trying to hide the fact that his pride was taking a hit from requiring her assistance. Natasha gave him a _don't waste my time_ stare before he complied and they actually got the darn thing through both arms holes and she tugged it over his head while being mindful of his head injury.

She pulled the shirt down around his waist and was about to pull away when his arms suddenly wrapped around her waist and trapped her in place. Natasha let him tug her into a tighter embrace and leaned her forehead against his chest. Sometimes you get tired of fighting the only person that saw anything good in you and stuck with you no matter how much bullshit you threw at them.

"_Thank you for coming back for me_," he whispered quietly against her hair. _I would have been strangled to death if you hadn't come._

"I could feel your insane rage from yards away. Someone had to come drag your sorry ass out of there and calm you down," she muttered into his shirt. She didn't hug him back due to his stitches but she felt Clint tighten his hold on her as he took a deep breath.

"No matter what happens - you're not going back to them. Okay?" he said firmly. Natasha sighed tiredly.

"I don't particularly want to," she said warily. Clint sighed in _relief_.

"Good. Now I'm dead on my feet and I'd really like to die on that bed and sleep off your painful impromptu surgery for the next 12 hours, thank you very much," he grumbled as he reluctantly stepped away from her and tried to pretend he wasn't one big bruise. Natasha snorted.

"That was the best surgery of your _life_," she muttered as she spun around to open the bathroom door. She glanced back to see her partner's back straighten up and the pained expression disappear from his determined face as he swiftly walked right past her like he didn't look half dead and probably feel like it too.

He still had pride - even in front of a target that was horrendously playing dead. He made it to the bed with that single minded determination but his body gave up when he reached his destination and he collapsed onto the sheets.

Determination only got you so far.

The second Clint's body hit the bed he willed himself to black out. Natasha _stared_ at him - she could tell he was out _cold_.

She didn't know he could do that.

She _did_ know however that he did that because he was sure she would watch his back while he recovered from his injuries. He needed the sleep to be in better condition to do his important sniping job in less than 40 hours. Otherwise it would likely endanger her _own_ life.

And wouldn't that just defeat the purpose of them working together in the first place?

Natasha carefully moved over to stand between the two beds and cautiously sat at the edge of his bed so that she was facing the still fake sleeping target.

Wake up little miss French toast - before a Russian assassin teaches you how she makes toast _crunch_.

"Silence isn't an answer you know," Natasha said warningly. She finally saw the woman twitch before her eyes flashed open and stared right at her. Not many people can look the Black Widow dead in the eye.

The _balls_ someone had when they weren't afraid to die.

"I'll take your offer," Danielle said firmly. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Which one," Natasha asked warily. The French woman gave her a sudden wary look.

"The first one," Danielle said quietly - with the _tiniest_ hint of hope in her voice. Natasha felt sick.

She can't believe she was giving her _target_ hope in life.

That was just messed _up_.

"Good. Tomorrow you're going to tell me your whole damn life story. You are going to jump, eat, walk and talk when I tell you to. You are going to answer all my questions about you. And if you try and lie….just _don't_. I can tell when you're lying. I can tell when you are bending the truth. I can tell when you're trying to hide something. So don't give me bullshit and we'll keep our deal. Now you should sleep," Natasha said steadily before she tore her eyes away from the French woman and stared at the wall across the room. Danielle gave her a questioning look.

"Aren't you going to sleep?" Danielle asked warily. Natasha didn't even _look_ at her.

"You really think I'm going to sleep with you 5 feet away from me and while my partner is _unconscious_?" Natasha asked guardedly. _Injured_ and unconscious. He was _injured_.

How the _hell_ was she supposed to sleep? How could she possibly watched his back if she went to sleep?

"_Touchy_," Danielle muttered petulantly. Natasha ignored her tone and refused to acknowledge it.

"Get some rest Bonaire - you'll need it," Natasha said carefully. She felt the target throw a highly suspicious look at her.

"And you expect me to believe you don't need the _same_ rest too?" Danielle asked in disbelief. Natasha's left hand curled into a fist, hidden from Danielle's view. The Widow doesn't like being questioned by her own target - it was not how she worked. She could barely stand her own _partner's_ questions (the man who actually deserved the answers)- let alone the _enemy_.

"I'm not _like_ you - trust me," Natasha said darkly. _I can go without sleep for much longer than the average person._

"And what if you kill me in my sleep?" Danielle asked cautiously. Natasha snorted.

"Then you'll be a _dead_ French woman- deal with it," she said flatly. She was in no mood for games. This was the first target she was sparing in her life without one damn good reason. The last one they spared had been Yelena Belova - and that was to prevent more little girls from being stolen and forced into the Widow program. Danielle huffed quietly and turned away from the ice cold Russian assassin. 20 minutes of dead cold silence later she peaked over her shoulder to see the Russian woman still staring at the wall ahead of her.

"Go to _sleep_ Bonaire," Natasha said tightly without batting an eyelash. Danielle went bright red from being caught and huffed again.

"You two look cosy," Danielle muttered under her breath as she glanced suspiciously at the two assassins on the bed across from her handcuffed form. Natasha finally tore her eyes way from the wall and gave her a slow warning look that spoke volumes more than the Widow would _ever_ say.

_If you say one word woman…_

You don't want her to finish that sentence.

"Don't make me take my offer back Bonaire," Natasha said carefully. _I can still kill you without regret_. I Danielle glanced up at her steeled green eyes and finally sighed before she closed her eyes and tried to force herself into an uneasy sleep in the same room as the assassins who formerly wanted to kill her.

But she clearly wasn't dead and had the fleeting chance of freedom - why would she out her would be assassinators and risk losing the chance they were offering her?

She was not an unintelligent woman.

"Wouldn't dream of it Miss…what is your name anyway?" Danielle asked warily with her eyes still closed. Natasha paused in her subtle animosity and considered how much they could lose by her knowing their names. There was no way she could escape without being shot, the woman was suicidal to begin with and Natasha really didn't want to talk to her partner with cover names for the next two days.

And she was _tired_. _Mentally_ tired. Not physically tired.

"You can call me Romanoff," Natasha said with exhaustion seeping through her words. Danielle opened one eye and studied her expression for a long moment - as if she was gauging how truthful the Russian assassin was being with her. Natasha really didn't care enough to hide much of her exhaustion - but she kept the rest of her emotions under lock and key. She wasn't going to give their target anything to manipulate them with at all. Barton has dropped off into the realm of unconsciousness on the other side of the bed - a good 10 inches away from her. He was a smart man. Or more likely he feared her wrath if he dared initiate any physical contact while in the presence of another person - let alone their target. Danielle must have finally found enough truth to be content and glanced down at the beat up and heavily bandaged American lying beside the Russian.

Natasha felt like sighing - she was wondering when the target would ask about him.

"And who is _that_?" Danielle asked pointing towards the half dead archer stiffly resting on the bed with his back facing them on the bed beside her. Natasha really did sigh before she banged her head back against the head board.

"Barton. My partner - _the overprotective idiot_," Natasha muttered while she pinched the bridge of her nose as she tried to will back a killer headache. If the police find Marcovich's body there was going to be a full blown murder investigation. In the eyes of the law Clint was a first degree murderer - however they were both already worthy of a one thousand years in jail sentence due to their past innocent kill count (especially her - she was probably worthy of death row for the things she has done). But _that_ wasn't what bothered Natasha. What bothered her were the people who were _much_ more dangerous than the French authorities and their response when they find out about Marcovich's death.

Barton just shot a high level Red Room Operative - he just pissed off an illegal Russian government-connected organization that was already after _her_ ass. Now they have a reason to _really_ want him dead too.

She doesn't know if either of them is going to come out of this mess alive. She doesn't know how any of this is going to play out. All she knows is that she is not going down without one hell of a fight and if the only one on her side was her partner that was an unexpected comfort.

She had always planned to go down alone anyway.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Apparently a lot of my new summer readers are haters who like to read 120+ chapters and then flame me. So can someone explain what a '**_**bad Harlequin Romance' **_**is to me? Please? I don't fully understand that term but someone said after 124 chapters that my clintasha romance is utter crap.**"I'm a voracious reader, a published author, an editor and a total Clintasha fan. I hope this doesn't sound pretentious or mean. You definitely have the makings of a good writer. However you have some real failings as well that need to be corrected….your continuity of Clintasha's emotions & kisses is not consistent. I sat down & read this pretty much all in one read, and you contradicted things they had done/said to each other more than once. Your mission chapters read like real to me, but the conversations/thoughts/emotions of Clintasha when they were alone read like bad Harlequin Romance. And Clint should be consistent when he thinks about Natasha-does he think of her as a girl or as a woman?" ** So they are entitled to their own opinion of my interpretation, but I would like to know is **_**why**_** they think these things and take into the consideration that this was one of the first stories I ever wrote in my life while in high school. I'm not even old enough to really experience romance in my **_**own**_** life yet. I haven't even kissed anyone yet. How should I know what TRUE romance is? This is called fantasy writing. I gave it my best shot. Clintasha is not even a normal couple. They're killers for god's sake. They even feel like killing each other sometimes - they're mentally messed up. **_**Why**_** should they be consistent when humans are not consistent in anything, let alone emotions? Contradictions? Okay I'll give you that - I forget things sometimes. This is a long story. I make mistakes. I don't even get paid to write this. This is fanfiction. Give me a **_**break**_**. **_**Why**_** read 500,000 words if you hate my romance so much? **

**Why do you people **_**never**_** log in when you flame me? Give me the courtesy of replying to you in private instead of having to use story space and waste other people's time. **

**:'( **

**Sorry for the rant guys. T.T**

**This is the calm before the real storm next chapter. We're going to see some of Tasha's Academy award level acting and Clint's master sniping while under pressure. They'll be brilliant ;) **

**Things are getting tense and exciting again next chapter! **


	126. Chapter 126

**I Dare You**

**A/N: Hey! I disappeared for a few days but I'm back after a short break and ready to throw this mission into the action….soon.**

**Also,****thank you so much for all the support everyone! I was kind of upset by all the flaming but who cares right? I learned something. No one is perfect. I'll keep working hard to be better. **

**Btw. I like **_**constructive**_** criticism. Telling me **_**how**_** to improve is a lot nicer than just saying what I did wrong and leaving it at that. Lots of readers give me constructive criticism - and that is why my story got better! **

**Oh…and I **_**hate**_** grammar with a PASSION and I know mine sucks. BADLY. Yup. I can't spell and tenses mess me up because I write how I think which is not in a consistent past or present but a mix of both and for some reason I miss and drop words as I write and when I proof read I can't catch it sometimes because it's there in my head but not on the screen…that doesn't make sense but yeah. I always **_**failed**_** grammar in school. I really did. My English teachers always said I would fail in life without spell-check. Glad I'm never taking another English class again in my life. But apparently storytelling skills and grammar is not the same! **

**HAZAH!**

**Let's see some mission prep. Damn I love Clintasha so much T.T (even if I'm cruel to them). **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 126 **

It was 7 am Parisian time and it was still dark outside. Most of the population was still dead to the world on this cold Sunday morning. But there was one redheaded Russian assassin who was wide awake and sitting outside a suffocating hotel room on a balcony overlooking the rest of the seemingly pretty city of 'love'. She was silently observing the happy looking couples walking down the street.

Looks can be deceiving.

She could tell the couple walking right under her balcony at the moment was destined for divorce in less than a year just by the way the husband was lecherously eying the chest of the woman who was walking in the opposite direction of him and his wife.

_Love_.

Natasha shook her head in disgust.

Love was the most deceitful exploitative emotion in the world. The Widow was trained to use and abuse this fleetingly weak emotion for years and make men lose their senses and go crazy for her. No man can resist spilling his deepest darkest secrets while in bed with her.

And when they are done spilling their guts she _literally_ guts them with a knife.

Marcovich was not wrong - that was her purpose. Lure, seduce, get information and kill. Before she was given the choice from an archer to change her purpose in life.

What Natasha _chose_ was to turn her back on all sick and disgusting things she was forced to learn from her training and beat down all the twisted and dark urges boiling in side of her. She used to like torturing people so much more before than she does now. Now she doesn't necessarily want to - not unless it was triggered by a bastard that _really_ pissed her off (like Yago and Marcovich).

She _has_ toyed with men's emotions for years. Made hundreds of men far older than her and younger than her fall in love with her before she slit their throats - without remorse. Without guilt. Love was a lie she whispered in the ear of targets for _years_. Years and years of mindless killing until she just got tired of it.

Now she was just tired.

Now Natasha wanted no part in it anymore and she was content and relieved that her current partner agreed with her back in Italy all those months ago. She was so lucky that he understands that love wasn't real. That love was just a game. It was just a tool a spy used to get power over their target.

Love was just the world's biggest lie.

She was lucky their partnership wasn't based on a lie - but a debt. Debts she understood. Debts made sense. Repaying debts she is comfortable with. He spared her and her partnership was his terms to pay her debt and she willingly gives it to him.

No more, no less. Equal give and take. Balancing what is owe and what is due.

Those are things Natasha understands.

So very lucky...right?

She was doing all this thinking while she waited for the man on the other end of her SHIELD phone to respond to the status report she just gave him.

He had been silent for nearly 3 minutes as he tried to absorb what she just told him.

Until now.

"You two will be the _death_ of me - you know that?" Coulson finally said at the other end of the phone pressed against her ear as she stared up at the dark sky hovering over the silent French city. She sighed.

"Coulson-," Natasha started to try and explain but he abruptly cut her off.

"_No_. No, Natasha you need to listen to me for once. The last time Barton got the level of angry you are describing was 4 years ago when he accidentally killed 23 men in a warehouse before he nearly turned the gun on himself. He would have succeeded if the rescue team didn't show up on time and subdue him," Coulson said warningly with an edge in his voice.

Natasha felt an icy cold feeling fill her chest.

"What was the trigger?" she asked barely above a whisper. She felt Coulson grow cautious.

"It doesn't matter-," he started to brush it off but she narrowed her eyes and interrupted him.

"_I_ am the one stuck in an enclosed space dealing with an unstable sniper. Tell me what the _fuck_ his trigger was," Natasha said threateningly. She heard a short deafening silence on his end as Coulson inhaled a sharp breath.

"A little girl was gang raped to death right in front of him while he was tied up and interrogated for nuclear code locations while held at gun point," Coulson said in defeat. Natasha felt the phone nearly slip out of her hand and fall to the ground.

_Silence_.

She is not the only one who keeps some of her most painful traumatic memories to herself. Some things you just can't share no matter how close you get to someone.

Sharing makes things too real.

It was easier to pretend those memories aren't real - even if they tear you up inside when no one is looking.

"He didn't give them the location," she whispered hollowly. Coulson's grim silence was answer enough.

"No. He didn't. The terrorists wanted to blow up London - they would have killed millions of children instead of just one. Barton, he...he did what his training told him to do. Don't compromise the mission objective no matter who got hurt because the objective was so much more important. It was bigger than him and the damaged little girl. That was psychological torture watching an innocent child die like that. But he lost something that day after he killed all the terrorists and left none for questioning. Their brutal deaths didn't bring the girl back and he didn't come back the same either. He's kept himself under incredible control ever since. Until yesterday anyway," Coulson finished tiredly. Natasha took a deep breaths and closed her eyes.

If there was ever a Clint Barton expert for Natasha to consult - Coulson was it. He had been Barton's handler for over half a decade.

"He lost it because of _me_," Natasha said resignedly with a heavy sigh as she banged her forehead against an icy railing beside her.

"Are you...shocked?" Coulson asked carefully. Natasha laughed darkly.

"A little? What do you expect me to say? That I knew that the most calm and controlled man I ever met in my life could deteriorate like that?" she asked heatedly. She _still_ didn't know her partner nearly as well as she thought she did.

There is no way to know everything about a person in less than a year.

"He's a militarily trained assassin Natasha - not a quiet little officer worker with a few odd quirks. He is good at being quiet about things - his job requires him to be quiet and observant in the field. But his demons run deeper then you think," Coulson said cautiously. Natasha tiredly rubbed her forehead - it's not sleep she needs. It's relief from the mountain of stress resting on her shoulders.

"I know, I _know_ that now," she said with exhaustion bleeding through her words.

"Just watch him - he'll be fine as long as someone is watching him. I'll get Bonaire a ride into America - for her operation. But she'll be locked up in a cell right afterwards - to see how long we can wait her out until she tries to escape or resists interrogation," he said carefully. Natasha didn't even _try_ to argue- why would she?

"Like you did with me?" Natasha said warily. Coulson coughed and quickly cleared his throat.

"Yes - but not as brutally. We were harsh with you. Kept you under constant surveillance and guns trained on you at all times because we knew there wasn't a lock you can't break or restraints that can hold you. Your kill order was just pushed forward until SHIELD could make up their mind about what to do with you. Her threat level is not as high as yours was," Coulson said with a slight apologetic tone. Natasha laughed softly.

"You would be a fool Coulson if you didn't lock me up for a few weeks and repeatedly drug me with truth serums as you stared me down everyday with the threat of execution hanging over my head," she as she leaned her head back against the balcony wall. She felt him grow solemn.

Coming from her that was a serious compliment to his thorough and sharp agent skills.

"Thank you - but the 3 weeks of lock down was the Council, not me. I knew you weren't a threat after 1 week," Coulson said calmly. Natasha's lips quirked.

_I had noticed._

"You were nicer after a week," she said simply. _Much nicer than any man I ever met other than the archer who 'captured' me._ Coulson sighed.

"The information on a few current Red Room operations happening in America helped - especially after we busted them," Coulson said warily. Natasha smiled tiredly.

"Of course," she said flatly. You know you got good willing prisoner when their information rings true. Coulson snorted.

"Of course, indeed. Anyway, I have to leave soon - I have a meeting with Agent Hill in 5 minutes. Anything else earth-shattering you need to make me aware of?" Coulson asked warily.

_Please say no_ was the clear message.

Natasha shifted in place and finally just asked - what did she have to lose? He was the only person she could talk to other then her partner.

Who did she have to talk _about_ her partner with?

Life really sucked when you had no friends you could trust outside your direct line of work.

"What…what is wrong with his back? It's been a year and I've never seen him take his shirt off...ever," she said carefully. As in - _never_.

She immediately felt him grow stiff at the other end.

"You should wait until he shows you," Coulson said guardedly. Natasha scoffed.

"He'll _never_ show me," Natasha said bitterly with a sharp shake of her head. Not after the freak reaction she got last night.

Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose and made a frustrated sound.

"You really _don't_ understand who you are in his life. You really truly don't understand how he sees you. He'll show you on his own. Don't pressure him Natasha," Coulson warned. Natasha huffed.

"What _is_ it?" Natasha asked irritably.

"Ghosts Natasha. It's his ghosts," he whispered quietly.

_Don't judge him, _was the silent plea.

She heard it loud and clear.

"Okay. I'll wait," she said with drained sigh.

"Be careful and call me if anything happens after the meet okay?" Coulson said quietly. Natasha frowned.

"Do you think something is going to happen?" she asked guardedly.

"Doesn't it always with you two?" he shot back. Natasha scowled and stayed silent. Coulson sighed and shook his head. His time was up.

"Just don't get him killed Natasha. Please - don't get him killed," Coulson asked quietly before he hung up. Natasha slowly dropped the phone and ended the call.

_I don't want him to die either. _

Natasha paused in her thoughts as she felt a sudden familiar presence behind her.

"Shifting in the air right?" he muttered from above her. Natasha kept her face neutral as she stared out into the snowy streets below.

"Target can hear you," Natasha said blankly. She felt him carefully ease himself down beside her onto the freezing cold floor before he reached behind him and roughly _slammed_ the sliding glass door leading into the balcony firmly shut.

"Now she can't hear shit," Clint said curtly while giving her a _what's your excuse now woman? _look_. _

"She can still _see_ us," she said steadily. Clint huffed and glanced at her stiff looking hands.

She was always such a pain in his ass.

"I don't care, Natasha. Give me your hands," he said in a no-nonsense manner. Natasha stiffened and gave him a highly suspicious look.

"No. Why do you want them?" she asked edgily - even if her rapid fire mind already knew the answer. He just ignored her harsh look and grabbed her hands without asking.

He flinched and nearly dropped them - they were just _that_ cold. They felt like ice. She had been out here for too long.

"My _god,_ Natasha - this type of cold gives people _hypothermia_!" he said angrily as he roughly rubbed her hands between his to get some colour and blood flowing back into them. Natasha didn't react as he worked diligently to warm her up. She stared at his focused expression as he concentrated on her hands.

No one has ever tried to warm her up.

"I can't get hypothermia Barton," she said without inflection in her tone. Clint's jaw tightened and he shot her a sharp glare.

"_Natasha_," he said warningly. She gave his wounds a pointed look.

"I'm not the one who is the worse off here - how are your stupid injures Barton?" she asked tightly. Clint narrowed his eyes and gave her a heated stare even as he blew hot air onto her hands.

Always a contradiction.

"They are better. Thank you for treating them," he muttered as he looked away. Natasha watched him silently for a few minutes before she spoke.

"You were slightly delirious yesterday," she said carefully. Clint huffed as he squeezed her hands and tried to transfer as much heat from his to hers as he could.

"Yeah I know. Concussions apparently do that to you," he grumbled sarcastically while staring pointedly at anything that wasn't _her_.

"I called Coulson," she said suddenly changing the topic. Clint paused and glanced back at her.

"And?" he asked guardedly. Natasha held his heavy stare without fail.

"Bonaire is going back to be taken into SHIELD custody and Coulson pardoned your reckless behaviour," she said steadily. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"He is basically going to over look it and pretend I didn't go _nuts_ and shoot a Red Room operative in the face," he said flatly. Natasha's eyes hardened.

"Yes," she said cautiously. _Isn't that what we want?_ Clint finally looked away from her killer stare and tiredly leaned his forehead on her shoulder.

"Are you even going to tell me what they did to you Natasha? What your training was made of?" he whispered. Natasha tensed.

"Talking about it doesn't make the damage disappear Clint," she said warningly. She felt him finally drop her finally warmed hands before he wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her from the side.

"No, but you have to tell me eventually you know that right?" he said carefully. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"How about you? Are you going to tell me about your life as a carnie? Of what they did to you in the circus? Because I'm not stupid or unaware of that reality Barton. You didn't live in a child friendly place," she asked evenly. _You only told me a small fraction of what you went through_. She felt him stiffen against her but instead of pulling away he pulled her closer.

"Someday," he muttered. _A day that is not today or any time soon. _

"Then I'll tell you my horror training that day," she said carefully. She felt him silently thinking her compromise over in his head against her shoulder before he finally gave in and slumped against her.

"_Okay_," he breathed out quietly. _Someday._

He wasn't ready to share and neither was she.

For today that was okay.

They both glanced up at the cloudy dark grey sky and felt a cold harsh breeze blow against their faces causing snow to whirl into the air before it settle at their feet.

"Storm's coming," he muttered under his breath.

"Do rifles work in these kind of temperatures?" Natasha asked carefully. She noticed a ghost of a smile pull at the edge of his lips.

"Only if you have the right kind," he said with a slight mysterious hint in his voice. She wasn't so sure what he was trying to imply but she trusted him at his job and left it at that.

"I have to have a chat with Bonaire," she said warily. She felt his mood grow more serious.

"You know…I didn't think you would spare her," he said steadily. _She was our target - you had every right to shoot her._

Natasha laughed quietly.

Even when he questions her actions he's not judging her.

Sometimes she thinks she finally went crazy and dreamed him up - but then he does something utterly stupid that leaves her stunned and she knows this is real.

"I learned something from someone recently," she said uncertainly as she curled a stray strand of her red hair behind her ear. _That_ peaked his interest.

"Is he a handsome someone?" Clint asked dryly. Natasha shifted beside him and stared at the snow coating the balcony railings beside her.

"Does it matter?" she asked quietly. She felt him reach out and tug at a another strand of her hair before he curled it behind her ear as well.

"No. Not really. I care more about what you learned," he said honestly. _We both know I'm not the definition of handsome. We know you are unfortunately exactly what the world considers frighteningly beautiful - including all the perverts in the world._

_But looks don't last Tasha. _

Natasha took a careful breath and started talking.

"He's not very wise. He's not all that sane. He…makes mistakes. He drives people up a wall with his dramatics and crass attitude," she said warily. She felt him grow weary.

"Sounds like one heck of a _dick_," Clint said with a heavy sigh as he let his arms fall away from her as he moved to get up - but her next words made him pause.

"He taught me to give people second chances," she said suddenly. Clint was slightly stunned and stopped moving.

"I didn't realize you needed to learn that lesson," he said quietly. _I thought I taught you that months ago._ She looked away from his solemn expression and stared down at the street again.

She's only come to understand what he truly did for her all these months later.

"Does he regret it?" she asked guardedly bracing herself for whatever his answer would be. Clint's eyes softened as he watched her tightly protect herself against his answer.

"No, Tasha. He doesn't. He'll never regret giving that second chance," he said sincerely.

"What if he dies - and it's all her fault?" she asked emptily. She felt him reach up and cart his fingers through her hair before he leaned the side of his head against hers.

"Then he'll die fighting for something worth living for," he whispered with conviction. Natasha inhaled a sharp breath. So many people have died because of her - no one has ever died _for_ her.

She hopes he never fulfills his promises.

"You have to go scoop out your sniping position," she said carefully. Clint pulled back and raised an eyebrow.

_Was she trying to tell him how to do his job?_

"I feel like booking a seriously overpriced hotel room facing the Eiffel Tower for tonight and all day tomorrow," Clint said with a ghost of a weak smile. Natasha gave him a sidelong look.

"How good is the hotel service?" she asked warily. Clint shrugged.

"No idea. Going to find out today," he said playing along. Her eyes suddenly darkened.

"Make sure to check out the fire escape - just in case," she said with a bit more seriousness bleeding through her tone. His eyes grew more solemn.

"I don't think they have fire escapes in Paris. It's not New York - but I'll find a quick way out. Don't worry," he said reassuringly as he pressed his lips against the side of her head. Natasha huffed.

"I don't _worry_," she muttered. Clint snorted.

Biggest lie of her _life_.

"_Sure_ you don't Tasha," he said causally as he got up and stretched. He closed his eyes as he yawned and covered his mouth.

"Just leave Barton," she grumbled as she pushed herself off the freezing floor and stood up herself. Clint opened one eye and watched her determinedly avoid direct eye contact.

Sometimes she was something he would dare to say cute - but he valued life too much and would never say it out loud lest he forced her to show him exactly how _not_ cute she was with her razor sharp knives.

Natasha was as stubborn as the devil like that. Sometimes you could even make out the tiny red horns on her head on her really _bad_ days.

_What's it like to be in love with the devil? _

"Whatever you say agent Romanoff," he said nonchalantly as he slid the balcony door open and walked back into their hotel room. Natasha followed behind him with a scowl on her face.

"You're mocking me," she growled warningly. Clint snorted but didn't bother responding.

_No shit. _

"She's faking it again right?" Clint asked warily glancing at the target still cuffed to the bed. Natasha shoved him towards the door.

"Don't worry, she'll cooperate. Besides she is not your problem. Go deal with _your_ end of the equation," Natasha said pointing to the front door while giving him a warning look.

_Don't mess with my work. _

Clint gave her a wary look in return.

"Harsh Tasha," he muttered as he picked up his sniping gear hidden in a sports bag that looked like hockey equipment.

"Get out," she said curtly. Clint scowled at her sudden attitude shift.

"Yes dear," Clint grumbled as he grabbed his coat and headed for the door. He glanced back at her, but her expression was carefully closed off. He opened the door and at the last second he blew her a dramatic theatrical kiss before he stalked away while slamming the door behind him.

She was a damn pain in his _ass_.

"Not cosy eh?" Danielle said blankly with her eyes still closed right after the door shut behind him.

Natasha instantly had her gun raised and in Danielle's face faster than she could blink.

_How did she get across the room so fast? _

"Want a bullet in your head?" the Russian assassin asked flatly. Danielle merely blinked slowly - still cuffed and trapped on the bed.

"Not particularly, no," Danielle said carefully as she shifted under the threat of the Russian assassin's merciless shot. Natasha narrowed her eyes and got down to business.

"Shut up and start talking. What is the first thing Roussel is going to do?" Natasha asked evenly as she kept a sharp eye on Danielle's expression to catch any bluff. Danielle sighed but answered anyway.

"He's going to be closed off because I haven't seen him in a year. But then he's going to kiss you," Danielle said tiredly with a slightly bitter look.

"And why is that?" Natasha asked without a single change in her expression.

"Roussel and I…have a past," she muttered reluctantly as she suddenly got a faraway look in her eyes. Natasha tapped her gun against Bonaire's forehead to keep her still in the present and not trapped in her memories.

Natasha knows all about being trapped in her unwanted memories.

"And you left him," Natasha concluded skillfully. Danielle tensed and her eyes flashed up to lock with hers. Natasha glanced pointedly at her gun. _Talk or I shoot you._ Danielle clenched her jaw.

"Yes," she said tightly. Natasha paused.

"But you still have lingering feelings for him," Natasha said as she studied Danielle's defensive posture brimming with tension. Danielle suddenly went from mildly annoyed to glaringly defensive.

"No. I _don't_," Danielle said firmly. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"I told you not to lie to me Bonaire," Natasha said warningly. _Or there is no deal._ Danielle continued to glare at her before she instantly looked away and stared at the wall.

"I didn't agree with what he was doing," she said through gritted teeth. Natasha laughed darkly and shook her head.

Was this suicidal woman serious?

"Bonaire if you haven't noticed you work for a criminal organization that deals in drug smuggling, controls the gambling business in the country, controls gang movement and holds your politicians by their balls. What could you _possibly_ not agree with him doing?" Natasha asked sarcastically. A pained expression crossed Danielle's face.

"He works in the sex trade now," she whispered hollowly. Natasha's eyes hardened.

Ah. Some sins you can never forgive.

"Does he know about your past?" she asked carefully. Danielle shook her head in exhaustion.

"No," she whispered in defeat. Natasha leaned back and gave the upset target some space - but there was no sympathy in her hardened expression.

"Don't feel too upset. He still would have done it for the money even if he knew. Men like him are like that," Natasha said with bitter conviction. Danielle narrowed her eyes.

"_All_ men are like that," Danielle said darkly. Natasha paused and lowered her gun from Danielle's face but kept it securely in her hand.

"No. I used to think like you - but you're wrong. Not all men are bastards that live and breathe to make our lives hell," Natasha said carefully. _Not all men treat women like we have been treated._ She watched Danielle glance at the front door with a cautious questioning look. Her thoughts were broadcasted on her face.

_How did he change your mind? _

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

In another fancier hotel lobby near the dead center of Paris a rough and clean cut American strolled through the front door and confidently approached the front desk.

"Excuse me - I'd like to book a room please," Clint said as he dropped his equipment at his side and leaned his forearms against the hotel counter. He waited for the busy filing hotel clerk to turn around and serve him. She instantly spun around at the sound of his voice and her eyes quickly widen as she took him in. Clint's eyes grew weary - oh she was one of _those_ quiet girls who dreamed of having a badboy boyfriend.

He's met a lot of her types - it doesn't end well. For anyone involved.

"Do you any preferences sir?" the pretty clerk asked while giving him a soft interested look. Clint needed to woo her into helping him a bit so he turned up the charm.

"In fact I do. I'd like a room on the 4th floor facing the Eiffel Tower - if that wouldn't be too much to ask?" Clint said flashing the pretty French hotel employee a charming boyish smile that held a hint of danger because innocent girls like this one were the type to like dark and dangerous men.

But could they ever handle a _truly_ dangerous man?

Clint came to a rather obvious conclusion - no they could _not_. Not after his serious explosion yesterday. He wasn't meant for civilian relationships and he had reluctantly resigned himself to be alone a long time ago.

But then he met someone who wasn't anywhere _near_ a civilian woman. Someone who can thoroughly kick his ass, keep him in line and _deal_ with his shit when he loses it.

Clint watched the pretty girl flush as a light shade of red as he continued to grin at her.

But it was full of empty promises.

He felt nothing towards her prettiness. He was well past the chasing after countless pretty faces phase in his life. It was too easy to fluster her. There was no challenge and no desire or need to get under this woman's skin. She had nothing to hide. Nothing to intrigue him and make him want to solve her like a puzzle.

Clint felt his heart sink and fill up at the same time at the that realization.

_You've ruined me for life Tasha. _

He came back into the present moment when the blond clerk suddenly started talking.

"We only have an open room at the corner of the building - are you still interested?" she asked glancing away from her computer and giving him a slight smile. Clint forced himself to smile back.

"Very interested," he murmured. She blushed and pass him his hotel card.

"Here's your card. Would you be interested in getting a coffee around noon?" she asked as she leaned her head against hand and flashed him a shy smile.

Clint nearly blinked. Wow. He was impressed - she's bolder then he thought she would be. Clint gave her a weak smile in return and instantly toned down the flirt. To save them both the awkwardness.

"Sorry dear, I'm married," Clint said apologetically _- to my job._ The clerk blinked as the smile fell from her face and leaned back away from him. He could tell she was trying to understand if she read his nonverbal signals wrong.

She hadn't - he was just messing with her unfortunately to get what he had wanted.

"Oh. Is this not for business?" she asked quietly. Clint firmly shook his head and quickly tried to wrap this up.

"No, it is. Have a nice day," he said with a friendly nod before he picked up his gear and walked towards the elevators.

"Good bye," she called out from behind him. Clint felt something twist in his stomach.

He inhaled a sharp breath as he swiftly walked away from the pretty girl with the longing eyes.

He wasn't her prince charming. He wasn't _anyone's_ prince charming and at the rate his life was going he didn't think he was ever going to be. Because he lived a dangerous life. Because he was an assassin. Because he was a SHIELD agent. Because he was a sniper and an archer.

But most of all because he was just Clint. And Clint never knew _how_ to be normal.

5 minutes later Clint sat on the ledge of a window he was going to get to know very well tomorrow morning and surveyed every angle he had from this position. He watched the crowds move down the street below his window and then glanced up at the more important sites.

He looked to the roofs and could already make out 16 possible sniping positions. All 16 had a perfect shot of the meeting spot on the street in front of the little Parisian café in the corner.

He was going to take them all out before they dared fire on his partner.

He was going to protect her in the only way he knew how - kill everyone else before they killed her.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: You know how I cut chapters in half yeah? Yeah all the intense action is next chapter! Sorry I try not to post 10,000 word chapters. **

**Clint is right, storms coming…**

**next chapter is the start of the mission action. Promise! **


	127. Chapter 127

**I Dare You **

**A/N: You'll love this chapter...maybe not. Just read it :) **

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

2 hours after scouting out his position Clint walked in the SHIELD hangar outside of Paris and glanced around the large flat space and caught sight of a flash of blond hair. He found Bonaire sitting on a bench with a serious-faced French SHIELD agent and a SHIELD pilot talking in hushed tones beside her. They both looked up when he approached them slowly. He pulled out his SHIELD I.D. card and flashed them his picture.

"Agent Barton. This is my target going back to American headquarters," Barton said steadily to the two serious faced agents. They both gave him a suspicious look for a few seconds before they nodded.

"Departure is in 10 minutes," the pilot said before he walked away to double check the jet for any last minute complications. Clint glanced back down at the still handcuffed French woman before he looked at her SHIELD agent clearly assigned to watch her.

"Where is agent Romanoff?" Clint asked glancing around the mostly empty hangar and back at the SHIELD agent. The agent shook his head in the negative.

"Unsure agent Barton," he said warily.

"She's talking with someone on the phone. She should be coming down soon," Bonaire suddenly spoke in her slight French accent as she stared at her cuffed hands. Clint glanced down at the blond again and gave her a suspicious look. He hasn't had much contact with her at all so he was unsure what to make of her really. Natasha was the one who needed to talk to Bonaire for her half of the mission - his job was done and ready to go once he set everything up for his shot.

"How long have you been waiting?" he asked cautiously. Danielle huffed.

"Long enough," she muttered. Clint narrowed his eye at her touchy attitude.

"You know, you should be kind of grateful. She's not really the sparing type," he said warningly. Danielle's eyes suddenly shot up and she glared at him.

"I didn't _ask_ to be spare," she said tightly. Clint slowly shook his head.

"No - but you took her offer. I'm sure she gave you a separate offer to fulfill your suicidal desires if you so chose. But you choose to _live_ - so let's cut the bullshit and not look a gift horse in the mouth alright?" he said heatedly. Danielle merely blinked at him - _that_ was unexpected.

"She's rather harsh - how can you possibly stand her?" Danielle asked warily. Clint clenched his jaw and felt his hands curl into tight fists as he held his anger in check.

"Don't judge people when you don't know them Bonaire. You don't know who she is," Clint said tensely with a threatening undertone in his voice.

"_Defensive_," Danielle said while tilting her head to the side and analyzing his stiff posture.

"Where is she Bonaire?" Clint asked curtly, finally getting fed up with talking to the target he wanted to get off their hands as soon as possible.

"Seems you are a bit late Agent Barton," someone said from behind him. He spun around and came face to face with - Danielle Bonaire.

Again.

Well shit.

"_Oh_. Damn, this is just cruel Tasha," Clint muttered and he looked back and forth between the two identical women. Both were cuffed as had their own SHIELD agent tailing them. The seated Bonaire looked slightly unnerved.

"She's really good. I don't even think I could tell the difference between us," she muttered. He gave both of them a suspicious look.

"You're trying to psyche me out - but I can tell you apart," he said with determination colouring his voice. They both raised their eyebrows at once.

"Are you sure? We _dare_ you," they said at the same time in the exact same French accented voice. Clint faltered for only a second as he got hit with the sheer level of her skill.

Damn she was beyond good - she was perfection.

And she only had 2 _hours_ to get every mannerism down to the _eyebrow_.

Clint suddenly stepped right up to the Danielle standing behind him and stared her dead in the eyes. She leaned away from him and bumped into the SHIELD agent behind her.

"I'm not her," she said warily. Clint narrowed his eyes as he searched for something to indicate she was his partner or not.

"Yeah? Let me figure that one out," he muttered as he studied her nervous eyes. Natasha was a brilliant actress. The best.

But he was her partner. He should be able to do this.

"Something. There has to be something," he said under his breath. The standing Danielle gave him a cautious look.

"Why do you even want to know so bad agent Barton?" she asked carefully. Clint narrowed his eyes before he cupped Danielle's cheek and watched her give him a bewildered look.

Clint felt the dark vibes from behind him and he smiled victoriously. _Then_ he roughly yanked on Danielle's blond hair and she winced when it didn't give.

Busted.

"_Fake_," Clint said immediately as he spun and pointed at his real partner who he had been talking to when he came in. Her expression was deceptively blank as she completely dropped the ruse.

"You're an ass Tasha," he said curtly. The Danielle sitting down snorted and the cuffs on her wrists instantly fell to the ground.

"That doesn't count. That was _cheating_. Target won't try and _rip_ my hair out if my acting is perfect. Admit it - I was flawless," Natasha said with a smug smirk that was all _Natasha_ but on someone else's face. Clint had to blink twice.

That really screwed with his head for a second.

"No you weren't," Clint shot back smugly._ I could felt the weight of your eyes even if your acting is perfect._

Natasha merely scowled at him.

"Did I miss something?" Danielle muttered irritably from behind the two SHIELD agents locked in a staring match. Clint suddenly reached out and buried his hand in Natasha's currently blond hair and yanked it right off her head and watched real natural red hair underneath tumble down and curl around her shoulders. He brushed the red curls out of the face that wasn't hers.

"You should really look into Hollywood Tasha," he said quietly as he slowly peeled Danielle's face away and found his partner underneath. He felt relief wash over him when he was looking at her real face. Natasha gave him a sharp bitter smile.

"No thanks. Those American hot shots would always cast me in the most boring roles - nannies, lonely little girls lost in a foreign country and a slew of romantic comedies," she said warily. Clint raised an eyebrow as he dropped the mask and wig into her lap.

"Don't you wish life was like a romantic comedy?" he asked dryly. Natasha gave him a disgusted look.

"_No_. I prefer my current life to that agony - oddly enough," Natasha muttered. _Even if it's going to kill me one day._

They all paused as the loud obnoxious sound of something like an engine backfired behind them.

_BOOM_.

Clint and Natasha both glanced over towards the jet and found a black ash covered face of the SHIELD pilot standing in front of his plane with a bewildered look on his face.

"Want a hand?" Clint called out to the poor confused looking pilot. He glanced over to them and gave him a mildly cautious look.

"Are you a familiar with the Les Mureaux 114 jet?" the pilot asked warily. Clint snickered. _Was he kidding?_

"Buddy - I am a damn _expert_ with planes," Clint said as he walked away from the his partner while shooting her a perversely excited grin over his shoulder.

He loved flying - _anything_.

Natasha gave his childish excitement a bored look in response and pulled out her SHIELD phone to call Coulson and make sure he knew the target was coming. Barton can go fiddle and tinker with his little airplanes to his heart's content - as long as they got out of here within the next half hour.

Otherwise there would be hell to pay.

"I understand why he changed your mind," Danielle said while staring at Natasha with a careful look of understanding. Natasha lifted the ringing phone to her ear and stared right back at the French woman with a challenge flashing in her green eyes.

_I dare you to do better with your life and find someone like him. _

Natasha started talking when Coulson answered and walked away.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

20 hours later Natasha disguised as Danielle was carefully walking down a busy Parisian street.

Today was D-day and they were both on edge.

"Where is Roussel?" Natasha asked carefully under her breath. She heard steady breathing in her ear and it was more of a grounding sound than anything else.

"He is 3 streets away from you - directly across from the Eiffel Tower and standing right dead center in the meeting spot," Clint replied steadily watching the corner she is meant round in the next 3 minutes.

"Good. And the snipers?" she asked steadily. Clint sighed.

"They're here too - we're all waiting on your pretty ass," he muttered. Natasha brushed her hand over the gun hidden in her pocket and nodded sharply.

"Let's not keep them waiting," she said warily. Clint rechecked everyone's position through his sniper scope before he spoke.

"Remember Tasha. If things all go to shit I'm going to shoot them all down and you get out alright?" he said cautiously. Natasha's eyes flashed.

"That would compromise the mission Barton," she said sharply. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"Then we fail the mission. Better then you being _dead_," he said tensely. Natasha tightened her jaw and took a careful breath.

"Let's hope it's not a worst case scenario," she said warningly just as she rounded the corner and walked directly into his line of sight - and into the sight of the other snipers. Her expression morphed into a perfectly cautious and a smidge nervous expression as she made her way down the street and got closer to their target waiting for her in the center of the side walk. Clint followed her uneasy movements that echoed another woman's aura with his eyes and shook his head.

No matter how many times he watches her act it still never gets boring.

It is equally fascinating as it is saddening how she acquired her skills.

"You play characters too well Tasha. _Too_ well," he said solemnly in her ear as she cautiously approached their target dressed in a dark black coat and guarded eyes. They were surrounded by the moving flow of Parisian tourists, but at the moment there was only each other and the threat.

They were both under sniper fire of course.

"Francis," Natasha greeted quietly. Her target nodded back and judging by the calm but guarded recognition in his eyes that meant her face mask was fooling him perfectly.

"Danielle - long time no see," he replied carefully. He stared at her for a long moment and Natasha knew Danielle was a slight fidgeter, so she curled a strand of her blond hair behind her ear but stared back.

Danielle was no coward.

She was just no steel cold Russian assassin.

"Last time I saw you was a year ago in Venice," he said tightly. Natasha looked away and frowned as she hugged herself with one arm.

"I've been working," she muttered reluctantly. Roussel narrowed his eyes and she felt the tension radiant off of him.

"You're always working. When are you _not_ working?" he asked irritably. Natasha nearly felt like sighing in irritation at this useless relationship spat.

When Danielle said that her and Roussel were complicated she wasn't kidding.

"Francis _please_-," Natasha said with a tired sigh but he angrily cut her off.

"You're saying we're over?" he fumed with flashing eyes. Wow he was the possessive type.

"_Oh dear lord he is melodramatic….,"_ Clint groaned in her ear. Natasha promptly upped her end of the dramatics just to end this faster.

"I left you Francis - what part of over did you not _understand_!" Natasha said heatedly as she shook in place looking highly upset.

The sheer confusion in Roussel's almost made her feel bad that he wasn't having this conversation with the real Danielle - _almost_.

But Danielle wanted out - he would have lost her anyway.

"_This is like some cheap late night housewife drama Tasha._ _Sheesh_," Clint muttered in her ear. Natasha obviously ignored his running commentary and continued to look like she was bursting with emotion as she let the convincing pain shine in her eyes.

"I don't understand _why_!" Roussel shouted angrily.

"You don't need to understand why!" she shouted back to match anger for anger.

"_Do we sound like that when we fight?"_ Clint asked in disbelief. Natasha's eyes flashed.

She was going to _kill_ her partner when she was done - he was _bothering_ her.

Roussel and Natasha as 'Danielle' both looked way when they noticed they were attracting attention from the crowds and instantly lowered their voices. She blinked and he was suddenly in her face and holding her cheeks between his rough glove covered hands and staring at her with so much intensity that it made her catch her breath - for real.

_Clint looks at her like that. _

"Then I'm going to kiss you and prove you still feel something for me," Roussel said seriously as he stared into her blue contact concealed eyes. The intensity was familiar - but it wasn't just Clint he reminded her of.

"_Natasha_…Natasha what the hell is he doing?" Clint asked guardedly holding his finger on the trigger. Natasha breathed heavily and shook her head for both her partner and the target.

_Still under control. Got to play his feelings against him. _

"If you don't give me the location we're both dead Francis - just do the job and leave our past _alone_," Natasha whispered anxiously glancing at roof tops around them trying to play on his sympathy. Roussel just gritted his teeth and apparently did not hold her true feelings in much high regard - he only cared about himself.

He was the selfish type.

"I don't care. Not until you give me a good enough reason why you left me," he said heatedly. Natasha huffed in irritation - real irritation bleeding in with her acting.

"_Francis_-," she started to try and persuade him but she knew it was fruitless 5 seconds before he even did. She heard colour angry swearing in her ears the second Roussel forceful slammed his mouth down on hers. Natasha was so damn _glad_ Danielle didn't want this man back because she thinks she might self combust into angry flames if she had to pretend she _liked_ his rough and demanding kiss. She struggled against him for show but he just held her face harder and she suddenly felt something disgustingly wet slip into her mouth.

Oh dear god.

"_Motherfucker_ - is he giving you _tongue_?" Clint asked in utter disgust as a furious curling sense of jealousy burning in the pit of his stomach while he was forced to watched and endure his partner get the living breath kissed out of her.

By a piece of shit criminal scum that wasn't _him_.

He was kind of a criminal too after the disaster with Marcovich.

Natasha didn't react to the jealous sniper _raging_ in her ear as she wrapped her arms around the targets neck that she could easily snap at will - and promptly flashed her partner the finger. The message was clear.

_Fuck off and let me do my job or I will hunt you down and stab you in the throat if you dare interfere with my work. _

His dark grumblings instantly ceased.

This was her world and her game that she _excelled_ at - and he had signed up for it willingly.

No one said it was easy being involved with a world class spy who specialized in seduction and torture.

The spy and the sniper - have no relation.

The Widow and the Hawk - have no relation.

Clint and Natasha - only exists behind tightly closed doors and far, _far_ away from any prying eyes.

In the field we are not _us_.

Clint angrily looked away from the disgustingly racy scene playing out on the street below and focused his scoop back on his primary targets who had a bead on his partner's forehead for the past 5 minutes.

5 whole _minutes_.

He wanted nothing more than to pull the trigger and fire a bullet through both _their_ faceless foreheads.

"The two snipers are still sharply watching you both - one from each crime syndicate. When Roussel is finally done _gorging_ your mouth with his nasty slimy shitty tongue you start talking business and cut the past relationship crap. I'll shoot both snipers the second he tells you the replicator's location. And _then_, then I'm going to shoot that motherfucker after you walk away," he said menacingly with deadly dark promises in his voice as he lined up his rifle for his shot.

He can shoot so fast in rapid succession that it is going to looked like he shot both snipers at the same time.

After 30 seconds of having Roussel's tongue down her throat and his filthy hands groping her ass he finally pulled away and they both gasped in deep breaths of air. Natasha tried desperately not to cringe at the familiar harsh taste of cigarettes and whiskey her targets usually leave in her mouth after they were done violating her lips. She felt her treacherous mind instantly compare before she could stop it.

She liked how Clint didn't drink or smoke. She liked how he tasted like chocolate and toothpaste and something that was just _him_. He was the only man she ever willing kissed in her life.

Kissing Roussel was like kissing _ashes_. Burning ashes.

"Was that really necessary Francis?" Natasha asked in an irritated fake breathless tone. Inside she was tightly holding in her disgust while trying not to lash out and snap his neck in frustration. Roussel stared at her with determined eyes as he breathed heavily in her face.

She heard a furious grunt in her ear.

"_Bastard doesn't even know how to properly kiss a woman…,"_ Clint seethed in her ear. Natasha's eyes flashed but she kept scowling impatiently at their target as he observed her with searching eyes.

"Of course it was Danielle. I've missed you. Tell me you missed me too," he whispered pleadingly. Natasha angrily shook her head.

"No Francis. Are you going to tell me or not Francis?" Natasha said heatedly pushing him back forcefully and only managing to get an inch between them at the strength Danielle could push.

"Because I'm waiting, my employers are waiting and there is going to be a snow storm soon and I'd like to get out of here before we're buried alive in ice and snow," Natasha said in worry mixed with only half hidden anxiety- a perfect imitation of Danielle's overall cautious atmosphere. Roussel shook his head as an irritated look flashed across his face.

Oh boy.

Serious unrequited feelings much?

"Why do you _never_ want to stick around and just chat? Always running from one place to another. Working for people who are going to _kill_ you one day?" Roussel asked heatedly. Natasha stiffened and took a sharp step back.

"I don't know what you're talking about Francis," Natasha said in Danielle's guarded voice. Bonaire said Francis was not supposed to know about her implants. Roussel narrowed his eyes and gave her an accusing look.

"I know about your bomb implants Danielle. I know you're trapped. Let me help you," he whispered earnestly. Natasha froze and let the colour drain from her face like she knew Danielle would.

This was getting out of hand.

"_He's stalling. Why is he stalling Natasha_?" Clint asked carefully in her ear. Natasha rapidly searched Roussel's pleading eyes as he approached her. He was an emotional wreck.

She _hated_ these type of targets.

"If I don't go back with the location Francis they are going to kill me anyway," Natasha said in a shakily breath. He was going to kill them both at this rate - no wonder Danielle left him. Natasha tried to back away but it would look too suspicious if she was able to evade him so effectively when Danielle was not trained in combat.

"You should _trust_ me for once Danielle," he said painfully. He instantly wrapped his arms around her waist and she was forced to fake Danielle's feminine helplessness as he dragged her forward and trapped her smaller body against his hard firm chest. Her face was planted right into his black coat and she was starting to rethink her plan on how to get the damn location _out_ of him. Maybe she should lie and pretend to accept his affections in return for the replicator location. The second the word's were out of his mouth she would tell Barton to shoot him _dead_.

"_Natasha_…," Clint said warningly in her ear. Roussel leaned down and breathed hot air into her ear with the hidden com link.

"You should have run when I shot Yago," he whispered in her ear. The split second shock was the only reason he had enough time to press a gun hidden in his sleeve into her back of her head.

Natasha and Clint both froze at the same moment.

_BANG_!

There was a single bullet fire echo in her ear and for a moment time stop and Natasha wondered what it was like to actually die and actually _feel_ the life fade from her eyes like she has _seen_ it fade from hundreds of targets' eyes in the past. She has shot so many people she doesn't even _remember_ all their faces. She has been on the other end of the gun so many times a sick and twisted part of her wanted to know what all her victims thought about before they died. She wondered if there was any pain or was it instantly _game over_ and all that was left was her lifeless body that would immediately crumple to the floor. She wondered if the second she would drop if her partner would fire and take out her murderer. She wondered if James felt any remorse for carrying out his orders. She wondered if he ever _cared_ for her. They had been partners for 3 years before she left. She wondered if he resented her decision to cut and run. She wondered how her partner of 11 months was feeling right now.

But then the world came rushing back and time started up again and she had no more time to wonder. Natasha closed her eyes and braced herself for the worst.

_I'm sorry Clint. _

And that was when she finally realized she felt no pain in her head.

But a cold otherworldly feeling starting flooding her chest when she realized something else. Something even _more_ terrifying then the idea of a bullet buried in her skull.

Her com link in her ear was _dead_.

_Barton. _

She felt James smiled against her cheek and her eyes hardened.

He didn't take the shot - but someone else _did_.

"I'm going to kill you James," she said steadily in the coldest tone that has ever graced her harsh Russian lips. There was a gun already shoved into his chest hidden from view between them- if one of them fired they would both be dead instantly and all the people around them would start screaming when the two ex-partners dropped dead at the same time.

Then all _three_ assassins would be dead and the story would be over - just like that.

And the dangerous game they were all forced to play would end. They were just deadly pieces on someone else's game board after all.

Natasha's eyes darkened as she felt James slowly turn his head and pressed his lips against her cheek. They were still playing the roles of star crossed lovers reuniting in front of the Eiffel Tower while surrounded by a whirlwind of tourists. He was wearing Francis Roussel's face while she was wearing the face of Danielle Bonaire. But under all the lies they were still former partners of the deadliest assassin team to ever be seen in Russia, now facing off in a distant country.

_Paris_.

City of love…or city of _deceit_?

"Sure you are Natasha - but then you wouldn't know what I did to him," he whispered knowingly. Natasha narrowed her eyes as she stared at the cars zooming down the narrow Parisian street behind him over his broad shoulder.

"You were never going to let him live," she said evenly. _I know you too well._ James laughed darkly and shoved his gun harder into her head and wrapped his other arm around her waist to trap her in a deceptively loving embrace.

"Maybe he's dead. Maybe he's not. You'll never know until you walk in there and see his bleeding lifeless body of course," James said casually - too casually.

And then civilians started screaming behind her. Natasha's heart turned to ice.

"Turn around Natasha," he whispered as he lowered his gun and released her completely from his dangerous hold. She could shoot him. She could shoot him _right_ now.

And then she smelled _fire_ and her world stopped all over again.

Natasha dropped her aim on him and rapidly spun around to stare at the burning hotel building that held her trapped partner - dead or alive she didn't know.

Time was running out as the flames started reaching for the smoke clouded Parisian sky.

_Where's love now? Where's hope now? Where's fear now?_

"Go save your partner Natasha. Or _die_ trying," James whispered in her ear before he spun around and disappeared into the panicked crowds behind them.

_I won't touch Barton. Not until I make him_ _kill you_. _Slowly_, _intimately, in every way he knows you fear__._

Small insignificant echoes from the future.

_Will you burn for him Natasha? Would you die for him? _

Natasha stared at the fire as it steadily spread through the hotel in front of her and took a step forward to break down the front door and drag her partner's ass out of there when children's screams echoed in her ears from the darkest corners of her bloody past. Natasha felt her legs give out from underneath her and she fell to her knees into the ice cold snow as a _tortured_ expression flashed across her usually perfectly composed face.

Her masks were broken- so utterly broken. Shattered into pieces fine as sand and burned to ashes.

Just like how her partner was about to be burned to ashes. All she would have left of him were ashes - punishment for her past sins.

Life gives you something precious - and then it always rips it away from you in the end.

Natasha has never been able to hold onto anything precious in her entire life. Why did she think he would be different? Why did she think she would finally have something that belonged to her? Something she could protect with everything she had?

_You're a fool Natasha Romanoff. _

"I can't...," Natasha whispered brokenly as burning children's face flickering in the flames in front of her haunted eyes. She couldn't move her legs as the weight of her past held her down. She couldn't get any closer to the flames without them destroying what was left of her mind after years of mental trauma at the hands of cruel Russian handlers. Her mind could only take so much.

_I can't save you Clint. _

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

**A/N: Now that is one hell of an intricate trap hijacking their mission like that. Bravo Barnes. You didn't shoot her. You can't shoot her. She was your partner. So he just doomed them to death by being burned alive - by her own choice of course. She could walk away if she wants. Disappear into the night if she wants. Never let anyone find her again if she wants. **

**No big deal.**

**Clint would just burn to death. **

**Of course - Barton could already be shot dead and she would be committing worthless suicide by going in there and dying in her worst nightmare. **

**Take **_**that**_** bad Harlequin Romance - kiss my **_**ass**_**. **

_**Heavy**_** action and angst next chapter. **

**What are you going to do Natasha? **


	128. Chapter 128

**I Dare You **

**A/N: There is a difference between being angry beyond control and losing your grip on your sanity. **

**This is Natasha completely losing her sanity. As in - she's done and gone over the edge. Mentally broke herself. Let her insanity actually SHOW. **

**Btw - This is currently taking place 8 years before avengers….so people. Please, use your **_**brains**_** :P **

**Sheesh. Crying about a dead Hawk...what is so special about hawks? ;) (kidding) **

**Only **_**Natasha**_** is allowed to cry if she so chooses (though she won't) - she doesn't know the future. **

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**Chapter 128 **

Natasha was still on her knees paralyzed as she watched the hotel her partner was sniping from cave in on itself and come crashing to the ground. Civilians were shouting in panic as they watched the flames consume the beautiful old French building while police officers were swarming the scene and doing crowd control as firefighters arrived to take out the flames.

No one can survive trapped in a fire like that.

Natasha could still feel the heat of the flames from 10 feet away as she stared vacantly at the fruits of her failure.

If she had gone in there she would have died instantly.

_You're a coward Natasha Romanoff. You're a horrible partner. You should have chose his arrow instead of his offer to defect. You should have left him alone. You should never have gotten involved with the Americans. You should have let him go._

_You should have let him kill you. _

Then he would be alive right now and she wouldn't be trapped in a mind drowning in agony.

She felt something small and weak wither away and _die_ inside of her as she finally got passed the shock and felt the dark truth settle into her bones.

_Barton is dead. _

_Barton is dead. _

_Barton is dead. _

She no longer had her debt to him.

Which means she is going to _brutally_ murder every single member of the Red Room program and take them all down with her.

Maybe she had the slightest desire to finish them off without compromising herself before today. Maybe she would have found a more discreet and subtle way to take them out so that she could continue being his partner when that chapter of her life was finally over. Maybe she would be more careful in how she goes about her goal to assassinate everyone involved in ordering and executing his and her death.

She didn't really care anymore.

She had a purpose - but she had no desire to continue living beyond completing that purpose.

She felt the crowds shift as an imposing presence appeared behind her.

She didn't react - not yet anyway.

"Natalia, you've rebelled and fraternized with the enemy long enough - it's time to come home," a deeply familiar Russian voice said from behind her with a slew of nearly 10 Red Room operatives somewhere hovering behind _him_. Natasha just continued to stare blankly at the building that laid in ruins in front of her. She could figure out their plan for capture - if the major distraction was dead she no longer had a 'reason' to continue this mindless charade with the Americans.

Barnes had lied. They were never here to kill her.

She was too valuable.

She was too good a weapon to throw away.

She was also too smart.

"I am _never_ coming back," she said darkly. The operative behind her frowned deeply.

"You do not have a choice Natalia," he said steadily. Natasha tensed as a flood of memories filled her head.

_Keep making choices - make the right choices. It's your life Natasha. Nobody is designing your memories for you. Nobody is planning your future for you. Nobody is plotting your death systematically - and if they are, at least you aren't in their direct control anymore. _

Natasha's hands curled into tight fists.

No one is going to take her choice away from her _ever_ again. Only she made her choices in life now. Nobody could tell her what to do. The only person she would ever _choose_ to listen to was dead.

"I've been a puppet long enough that I prefer _death_," Natasha spat coldly. She heard the man behind her sigh impatiently.

She always had the worst rebellious streak out of all the Widows.

"He's dead Natalia - where else do you have to go but back with us? You'll be singing a whole different tune when they reprogram you Natalia. You'll forget all about this mess you fell into, you'll forget about the SHIELD agent you met in Berlin, you'll forget about your bothersome feelings for him that kept you from coming back," he said carefully. Natasha's enhanced mind figured it out well before he even finished talking.

They blamed her partner for keeping her away. They think he had power over her and controlled her actions. Natasha felt like _spitting_ in their faces and saying that _no_ man controlled her life. She didn't leave one spy organization just to be trapped by another.

She chose to work for SHIELD all on her own. If she didn't want it she would have chose death by arrow.

It had been just _that_ simple.

"Why did you choose _now_ to come get me?" Natasha asked frigidly. The operative paused but answered her anyway.

"We've been monitoring your movements over the last year. To see how emotionally compromised our best assassin can get and you've _truly_ disappointed us with your behaviour. You chose a weak partner - not even the best American agent in their damned country!" he said heatedly. Natasha gritted her teeth.

"And you'd know the best would you?" she asked tightly. The Russian narrowed his eyes.

"You had the best - you just didn't know it. Come back with us, Natalia. The Americans have nothing to offer you anymore. Your liability is dead and you're free of him now. You don't have to worry about him anymore. They'll even remove your emotional response mechanisms and you won't feel the pain or heartache or grief again," he said while trying to make it sound like a _good_ offer.

Natasha just started _laughing_ - it was chilling to the bone. Then her eyes hardened as she abruptly cut off her hysterics.

"Freedom? You thinking working for our people allows for _freedom_?" she asked menacingly.

"The Americans are your enemy Natalia - not us," he said warningly. Natasha just shook her head in disgust.

She has never heard words filled with more utter crap in her _life_.

"_Bullshit_. There is no Russians versus Americans - that is just a political scam to rile up the blind public and gain their support in proxy wars and to make excuses to build more weapons and increase military funds," Natasha spat harshly. She felt the operative get fed up and stop playing the benevolent agent.

"No more games, _Natalia_. We won't ask nicely a second time," he said threateningly. Natasha's eyes darkened.

"My name is not _Natalia_," Natasha said through gritted teeth before she promptly pointed her gun at her own head - she felt them all tense.

Bingo.

They needed her alive.

"_Romanova_...," he said warningly. Natasha chuckled darkly.

"Oh, _now_ you sound hesitant," Natasha said with a cruel biting smile, "And what if I just shoot myself? Then you would fail your retrieval mission - right _Gruzinsky_?" she said damningly. She felt the Russian operative tense behind her.

"You won't shoot yourself Natalia, because you want to know morbidly how I killed your partner after he shot _mine_," he hissed darkly.

Natasha's eyes hardened and her heart turned to stone.

He was already dead before the words even had time to hang in the space between them.

"Ivan knows better than to send a pitiful unenhanced army after me. You are just the cheap messengers in a dangerous game. He sent you on a suicide mission Gruzinsky to relay how angry he is at me. If he _really_ wanted me alive - you would have spared my partner _you lying piece of shit asshole who is going to rot in hell and I'm going to send you there_!" she spat viciously before she spun around and _plunged_ her hidden knife deep into the operative's thick neck and twisted it sideways causing him to gasp as blood bubbled in his throat before she pulled the trigger on her handgun and shot him in the chest 7 times in rapid succession.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

Gruzinsky stared at her with shock in his eyes and his chest decorated with her lethal bullets before she watched him stumble backwards into the suddenly even _more_ panicked crowds around them.

She knew from his terrified dying eyes he had been lying about being the one to kill Barton.

She really didn't care.

She just assassinated someone in one of the most public places in the world with city CCTV cameras catching it all on tape and over a hundred eye witnesses. Danielle Bonaire was effectively screwed for life because of Natasha.

She still didn't care.

All she cared about was that they were trying to unhinge her and get her to break down so that they can drag a more cooperative captive back with them.

But she was never going back unless she was a dead lifeless _corpse_.

People screamed all around them as Gruzinsky dropped to the ground in a bloody spasming mess. He was dead within seconds. A soothing voice suddenly echoed in her ears as she turned her murderous gaze on the 9 other tense and unnerved Red Room operatives still standing here determined to take her back to Russia.

_I can't stop you from killing them - but don't create collateral damage. Innocent people don't deserve to get caught in the crossfire Tasha. Please. _

She gritted her teeth and promptly took off running down the busy Parisian street while she shoved past the crowds of tourists with her Russian pursuers hot on her heels.

The Black Widow doesn't run away.

She simply strategically chooses the location of her victims' deaths.

And because an archer asked her to spare those who didn't deserve her burning murderous wrath.

Innocent civilians in Paris were not on her hit list nor did she want them to be. Only a certain kind of sick criminals deserved her bullets.

She raced across the buy traffic filled road with the nine large and bulky Russian men chasing after her. There was a large truck in her way and she promptly dropped to the ground to roll underneath it before she shot up to her feet and kept running. The men were too large to follow and had to angrily run around the 18 wheeler truck.

That put her pursuers at least a good 10 paces behind her.

"The punishment is only greater if you resist Natalia!" one of the other Russians shouted after her. Natasha narrowed her eyes in disgust.

"_Fuck_ you - I'll show you punishment," she growled under her breath as she barreled through another panicked group of tourists watching the mad chase through Paris before she rounded a sharp corner and they quickly lost sight of her. She immediately ducked down a side alley to lead the soon to be dead batch of Russians away from the civilian filled streets.

That was the only plea she would listen to from the Clint in her head.

_Don't ruin all the progress we made over the last year Tasha. Don't let the training control you. _

He pleaded with her not to fall back on her old ways but she silenced his deep highly addictive voice as she backed into the darkest alley and melted into the shadows as she waited for her pursuers to appear in the alley opening.

She chose a dead end - to trap _them_.

They appeared within seconds. Reckless, arrogant and harsh killers in their own right.

Killers had the right to kill killers rights?

Clint would say _no_.

Natasha didn't care anymore because he wasn't here to tell her to stop. She needed someone to watch her limits or she was going to die from the carelessness. Why should she care when there was no one who wanted her alive anyway? What was the point of holding back when there wasn't someone to be proud of her for it?

"_Natalia_! Stop being a coward and face us like the Black Widow you're supposed to be!" one of the RR operatives shouted into the dark alley.

He instantly had a bullet enter his forehead and burst out the back of his head. He was dead before he hit the ground.

_BANG_!

And then it all happened so fast they were all goners before they even saw her coming. Natasha rushed them from the side and had her killer thighs wrapped around one of their necks and forced them to crash into a second Russian due to the sheer momentum of her attack. She used both her hands and _snapped_ the neck of the one she was thigh choking. She then shot the one stumbling back dizzily in the chest with her gun before she rolled off the dead operative and instantly shot the legs of another pathetic hit man and forced him to fall to his knees so that she could use him as a shield to block the rapid intense bullet fire of the others left standing. The second that agent hit the floor she was moving faster than they could keep track of in the dark alley and she slit each of their throats one after the other.

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

They all dropped like flies.

"You wanted an emotionless weapon? You _got_ it in spades," Natasha growled harshly as she finally lowered her bloody knife held tightly in one hand and a handgun in the other when there was absolutely no one left standing. The last operative was still making annoying gurgling sounds and so she shot him in the _balls_ to shut him up and cause him to die from the sheer shock of having his balls blown right off. She inhaled heavy harsh breaths as she backed away from the bloody mess she created and hit the alley wall. She dropped her knife and slid to the ground with empty eyes.

"_Shit_," she muttered as she buried her face in her knees and took several deep laboured breaths. She just killed 10 Red Room operatives, but that was not what her mind was replaying in her head right now. Fire flashed across her mind and she held herself tighter. She tried to think about anything except the last few moments of blood, adrenaline and fear. _Anything_.

And then his memories started flooding her mind and she got lost in the depth of his blue eyes and their intensity and conflicting emotions. She felt the ghost of his arms around her waist and his gentle hands running through her hair. She felt the barest hint his lips brush against her forehead. She felt his warm breath wash over her face. She felt his fingertips softly stroke her cheek. She heard his deeply calming voice echo in her ears.

_You're __not__ a monster Natasha._

"I am. You just couldn't see it," she said bitterly as she felt the blood that wasn't hers start to dry on her skin.

_I __wanted__ to trust you Tasha. I wanted to have a partner I can completely rely on. I want to work with a person who was the best. I wanted that person to be you._

"You choose a horrible person to trust. You shouldn't have trusted me. I'm not a good partner," she said angrily_. I let you die. I betrayed your trust._ _I'm not worthy of your partnership._

_I won't hate you Tasha. I promise you, I won't hate you no matter what you did. I can't hate you_. _I__promise._

"You _should_ hate me. Everyone hates me. _I _hate me," Natasha spat resentfully, but the memories of him were relentless - just like him. Always pushing her - always trying to make her see the potential he saw in her.

_Maybe she doesn't have it all figured out. Maybe she makes mistakes - but __everyone__ makes mistakes. She's allowed to make mistakes. That's why you __forgive__ people - because they're not perfect. She's __not__ perfect. She's not all good, but she __has__ good in her. I know she does. Why doesn't she ever __believe__ me?_

"I don't see any good Clint - I can't see as well as you can," she whispered tiredly. _I don't have eyes like you._ _My eyes are not as sharp as yours. I miss the details._

_We both know your past isn't disappearing, your past is still following you wherever we go and one day we're going to have to deal with it. One day someone has to pull the trigger on the Red Room._

"I'll pull the trigger. I'll pull the trigger Barton - but after I do that everything becomes pointless," she said emptily. How can she continue the partnership she needs like air without a partner?

_But __I__ want you alive Natasha. I need you to stay alive and I'll do everything to make sure that happens._

"But what if that's not what I _want_ Clint? You can't force me to keep breathing if you're not here," she whispered brokenly. I'll be all alone all over again.

_No, It's __not__ what you want. You don't want to die Natasha. You work so damn hard to stay alive - you work twice as hard to keep __me__ alive, so don't give me your bullshit about sudden suicidal feelings you've been having because I can __feel__ when you think you're getting shoved into a corner Natasha. And let me tell you - you're __not__ pretty when you're cornered._

"Fine. I'm cornered. And you're fucking _dead_. What do I do now?" she asked angrily instantly getting pissed off at his memory self.

_Do I make __you__ happy Tasha?_

Natasha's anger rapidly drained away as fast as it had come and all that was left was a hollow shell of a woman.

"Does it matter anymore?" she asked shakily. _She should never have let things get as far as they did. She should have pushed him away before he got too deep under her skin. She should have protected herself better against this outcome. _

_It drives you crazy doesn't it? You didn't choose to fall for me – you just did. And you can't stand not know why. Sometimes there is no why Natasha. No one can control how they feel deep inside– not even the best actress in the world. If I'm dead then you're free of feeling like you have a liability right? Because before me Natasha Romanoff didn't need anyone right? If it wasn't for me you wouldn't have to be stuck working for just one restrictive organization like SHIELD right?_

"_No_," she breathed out painfully. "No, that's not true. This isn't what I wanted. I never wanted _this_ Clint," she pleaded desperately to no one but a alley full of dead bodies scattered around her as she sat there in an ocean of heavily spilled Russian blood.

_Soldiers fight for their country and kill people…and then they go back to their families._

"You're not coming back. You're a liar. You said I was your family - but you're not coming back," she whispered lifelessly. _You broke all your promises Clint. You broke them all. _

_The biggest lie of _your_life__ is pretending that you're invincible and that nothing can touch you because you're the Black Widow. _

And now you're all alone.

Alone and lost in the grief gripping her chest in pure _agony_.

She felt the shadows shift beside her and instantly flung her knife into the darkness without lifting her face from her knees and heard a sharp gasp of pain.

Then her cold eyes flashed open.

In a flicker of movement faster than humanly possible she was in the bastard's face and didn't recognize him - he was a new Red Room recruit. Her knife had sunk dead center into his abdomen and the resulting wound was bleeding profoundly. He would be dead within minutes. She trapped him in an iron choke hold anyway and slammed him roughly into the wall.

Her grief was gone - just like that.

But it was never truly gone - just hidden.

"Why did you come? Why did you come to die?" Natasha demanded with cold icy rage that was strikingly different then a hawk's.

His rage was like fire - fast and furious and consumed everything too quickly.

Her rage was like ice - precise and controlled and more deadly.

"O-orders," the lower ranking Red Room operative said steadily - but she could _smell_ fear on him. Natasha narrowed her eyes and felt her mind get dragged down deeper into the depths of the darkness hidden in her psyche that was always lurking, _waiting_ to consume her. She suddenly leaned down next to his ear.

"You want to know what I'm going to do to you and every single little bastard they send after me?" Natasha whispered seductively in his ear as she traced the front of jeans with the edge of her razor sharp knife.

"N-no," he said shakily. Natasha smiled creepily.

"Too bad," she whispered before she gave him a forceful brutal kiss - a kiss of death. Bastard melted immediately and that was exactly what she wanted.

Because that was when she brutally _stabbed_ him in the chest - right in the heart.

Because she feels like someone just stabbed _hers_.

Fear is always so much _worse_ when you give them hope first.

"_Ahhhhhhh_!" he screamed in agony as she pull away and victoriously wiped her mouth with a sick twisted smile on her face.

"Scream for me honey," she whispered in a his ear in a deceptively sweet voice. "How many innocent people have _you_ made scream? How many girls have you raped, tortured and violated?" she demanded with dangerously flashing eyes.

"F-fuck you _bitch_," he spat as he gasped out his last few breaths of life.

Natasha grabbed him by the front of his shirt and repeatedly slammed his entire body into the wall.

_SLAM! SLAM! SLAM! _

"I'm the fucking bitch? What does that make you? A _righteous_ rapist?" she shouted at him. The Red Room scum didn't respond as his eyes started getting heavy and distant.

"Natasha. Natasha you need to stop," a familiar deeply ragged voice echoed down the alley. Natasha's eyes hardened and she continued to shake the man in front of her even _harder_.

"I can hear him in my god damn head like he is right _here_! But he's _dead_ because you people won't leave me alone! Do you know how much I'm going to fucking _hurt_ you?" Natasha spat in the deeply _terrified_ dying Russian's face. The light suddenly faded from his eyes leaving them dull and vacant. She knew he was gone.

He was dead - just like her partner.

She was still shaking him anyway as she drowned in her pain.

"Drop the dead body _Natasha_," Clint's careful but forceful voice echoed in her ears. Natasha froze at the lifeless corpse slipped out of her cold hands and crashed into the snow on the ground. She instantly spun around with a knife in her hand hell bent on subduing her next victim.

And then the sound of a knife clattering to the ground echoed off the cold dark alley walls splattered with the blood of her pervious victims.

She was staring at a ragged and heavily breathing Clint Barton half leaning against the alley wall with his clothes utterly blackened and burnt as they barely hanged off of him. His short hair was singed at the edges and there were angry festering burn marks covering his left arm.

He looked like he just walked through _hell_.

There was no way.

"You're not real. You're _dead_," Natasha whispered wistfully. _My mind is just giving me what I want when I can't have it in reality anymore._

Clint painfully shook his aching head as he watched her back away from him like a dangerous cornered animal. He didn't rush to her because he knows what she'll do if he unnerved her any more then she already was. She was staring at him like he would vanish the second she blinked. He watched the colour drain from her face when she _did_ blink and he was still standing there half dead - but still half alive.

He was like a _ghost_ to her.

He saw the sheer disbelief in her eyes and felt his entire body sag against the wall.

"No, Natasha. I'm right here. I'm alive. I killed the man Barnes sent in there to kill me. I lost my com link in the fight. You were right - there _are_ fire escapes in Paris," he whispered as he reached out to her, but she visibly _flinched_ and continued to back up. He stopped trying to get near her and just gave her a pleading look.

She suddenly gave him a sad smile in return that was _just_ on the other side of crazy.

"You're a perfect replica of him," she said softly. Clint froze as ice cold realization filled his chest.

She's completely lost her mind.

"No, Natasha we don't have _time_ for this. We need to _leave_. We never to get out before we get caught by the authorities or Barnes," he said as he tried to reason with her - but she was beyond reason now. She suddenly looked like she was about to collapsed as if the whole world's burden was suddenly thrust onto her shoulders.

An impossible burden for her to carry - one that nearly crushed her mind, body and soul.

She didn't know if she had a soul to begin with.

"I'm too tired to go anywhere. Let them come - I'll just kill them all one at a time until I pass out from the exhaustion and turn the gun on myself before they can take me in alive. It doesn't matter if you're already dead," she said emptily as she backed up enough to hit the wall at the end of the alley and gracelessly slid to the floor again. Clint watched her will to live fade in her eyes right in front of him and rapidly shook his head in fear.

"_No_, Tasha. I'm not dead. We really need to get out of here right now before we get caught. You can't stay here, Tasha," he said desperately trying to get her to cooperate for at least the next 10 minutes so that he can get them out of the immediate danger.

The next broken sound that wretched out of her chest nearly killed him.

"I understand why his hallucinations felt so real to him last time - you're _perfect_," she whispered while gesturing to all of him. "You would worry about things like that wouldn't you? He always worried about us getting caught," she said with a sharp bitter laugh that tore at his jagged soul and made him want to fall to his knees in front of her and beg her to believe that he is not an illusion.

But they didn't have time for him to sit and plead with her until she believed him.

"What if I carry you? Will you let me carry you Tasha? _Please_," he asked desperately. They needed to get out of the city - _now_. He would do _anything_ to get her out. he can't just leave her here to die. Natasha stared at him with honest confusion swirling in her solemn green eyes.

"Why would you want to do that?" she asked hollowly. _Why would you want to touch me after what I did to you?_

Clint fiercely shook his head and quickly dropped to his knees in front of her fragile form that was still always so deadly no matter _what_ state of mind she was trapped in.

If she freaked out and attacked him - he'd be _truly_ dead.

Clint inhaled a slow steady breath as he resisted the urge to go hunt down her ruthless ex-partner who planned all of this to happen. Barnes knew how Natasha worked - better then Clint. Better than anyone. He built her to be strong himself.

He also knew how to break her too.

They needed to break her - not kill her.

Clint's death wrapped in her worst memory would shake anyone's sanity.

"Give me your knife Natasha...," Clint asked shakily. Natasha lowered her eyes at the knife that was tightly held in her grasp. She had so many knives - most of them were bloody today.

"You're an illusion - you can't pick it up," she said in defeat even as she held out the knife for him to try and take sitting innocently in the palm of her hand. Clint exhaled slowly as he tried to breathe out the tension in his terrified body. He attempted to lie to himself and force himself to believe that even if she thought he was a hallucination she would never try to kill him.

He didn't really believe that.

Clint knew that she could flip her wrist and kill him in an instant, but he reached out anyway and carefully picked up the offered blade. She silently watched the knife leave her open palm and the weight of it disappear.

"So I'm _dreaming_," she concluded wrongly with clouded eyes that were hollow with defeat. Clint felt like she had stabbed him in the chest instead of simply handing over her murder weapon like a chastened child.

She still didn't believe this was real.

Clint inhaled slowly and placed the knife behind him and far out of her reach.

"_Tasha_...," he pleaded but she was suddenly looking at him with so much _agony_ that he stumbled over his next few words. She looked like she was filled with so much pain - but there was no torturer.

The torture was all in her head.

"I'm sorry I let you die in the fire Clint," she whispered with guilt bleeding through her words. _I couldn't stand the heat. _

Clint shook his head pleadingly and tried not to let his heart break at the sheer guilt radiating off of her.

He understands paralyzing ghosts - he understands why she couldn't come after him.

He doesn't blame her. But he doesn't have to because she already blamed herself to the point where she was going to break down and go catatonic on him.

Clint wouldn't allow that.

"It's okay. It's _okay_. I saved myself. You don't always have to save me. I didn't die, Tasha. I'm right here," Clint insisted softly. Natasha continued to stare at him with lost tortured eyes. Clint shook his head - she still thought she was talking to a figment of her own screwed up imagination.

_He was gone and all she had left was a ghost. _

"I miss you," she whispered heartbreakingly. Clint felt his heart stop beating. "I thought I wouldn't, but I do. _Why_ do I miss you?" she asked miserably. Clint just sat there on his knees and stared at her. He was barely able to breathe through the pain in his chest because she was breaking his heart right now.

"You don't have to miss me. I'm real, _Natasha_," Clint begged earnestly. Natasha sighed in defeat as she stared at him emptily.

"No, you're not. You're dead, because I was a terrible partner who didn't come after you. I killed you," she whispered with a vacantly expression taking over her face. Clint froze.

_Oh my god what was going on in her fucked up head? _

"No, Tasha. You didn't kill me. Barnes tried to kill me to break you," he tried to explain to her with logic.

Logic no longer made any sense to her.

Barnes has already succeeded.

"You should have killed me in Berlin," she said in utter defeat.

Clint's eyes widened.

No.

"_No_. God damn it! Listen to yourself Natasha! They are screwing with your head! I'm not _dead_!" he shouted as his head filled with anger aimed towards the people who did this to her and at himself for not getting to her in time. He should have been faster. He should have got out sooner.

"You should have killed me - before I killed you," she said emptily as she reached out to him. Clint held his breath as he stayed still as a rock as her shaking hand neared his face.

"Everything I touch...dies," she whispered as her trembling dirty hand finally touched his face and she closed her eyes as a single tear rolled down her cheek. Clint nearly started crying himself as he watched the tear drop to the floor only to mix with the blood of her kills.

_I killed you Clint. _

It was like she had mentally reverted to a child.

A child who burned down a hospital.

There was no point trying to convince her right now. All he could do was protect her physically right now. He would have to deal with her mind later.

"I'm going to pick you up okay Tasha?" Clint whispered shakily while trying to keep the pain out of his voice as he hooked his arms under her trembling cold knees and back. Her clothes were soaked through due to the snow and blood on the ground but he didn't pay attention to that at all. Survival was his first priority. She didn't resists at all. This wasn't like Natasha at _all_. Clint carefully lifted her off the stone floor and tried to get his balance as she loosely wrapped her arms around his neck.

"How long can a dream last?" Natasha mumbled against his chest. Clint felt his hope plummet as he started carrying her away from the horror scene she painted in the small Parisian back alley.

"Not a dream," he muttered in futile. Natasha just acted like he wasn't there. Like he wasn't carrying her like a frightened little child.

"You smell just like _him_," she said softly burying her face into his neck and shakily breathing in his natural musky scent under all the smoke, ash and dust.

"Not dead Tasha," he said quietly.

When her entire body suddenly started silently shaking in his arms Clint nearly stopped breathing all together.

Holy fucking shit - Natasha doesn't cry.

Not once.

"Why did you have to go and fucking die on me Clint? Wasn't I a good partner? Did you not like me enough to stay? Did I scare you away like I thought I would?" she asked brokenly as she clutched him tighter.

Pain and panic flashed across the archer's face. She's lost it. They had completely broke her mind by triggering her worst nightmare. A broken mind is easier to reprogram. He doesn't know how he is going to fix her now.

"No, Tasha. You don't scare me like you scare your targets. You're simply scaring me because of what they did to you," he said evenly. Natasha gasped silently against his shoulder and still continued to shake like a leaf in his arms.

"I don't know how to be what you wanted me to be. I kept telling you I didn't have enough pieces. I didn't have enough and you had so much. And I'd get scared. Because there's not enough of me. I'm not enough Clint - why aren't I _enough_?" she asked brokenly tugging on his burnt shirt and he felt his shoulder start to get soaked with something warm and sticky.

She wasn't making any sense - but he had an idea what she meant anyway.

"You do fine, Tasha. You make me happy," he said quietly while trying to be as reassuring as possible, but knew she wasn't really listening to him. Natasha laughed brokenly.

"That's what he'd say but I'm not trained to make men _happy_. I don't even know what happiness is. I'm trained to seduce them and kill them - but I've _never_ tried to seduce you. Not really. You knew that right? You were never my target - you _knew_ that right?" she asked desperately holding onto him. Clint inhaled a sharp breath.

"I believe you, Tasha. Of course I believe you," he said softly. _Please stop talking about me in the past tense._

"I don't want to wake up," she whispered fearfully. _If I wake up you'll be gone forever. _

"You're not sleeping Natasha," he tried to tell her, but she just shook her head and held him tighter - so tightly it was like she thought he was going to dissolve into smoke and fall through the gaps between her fingers and disappear.

"I don't care if you're not real," she whispered hurriedly. "Just stay for a little bit longer. _Please_, don't go yet. I'm not ready for you to be gone yet," Natasha asked pleadingly. Clint felt the air rush out of his lungs. Natasha doesn't plead. Natasha doesn't cry. Natasha doesn't break down like this.

She's not Natasha right now - she's a broken little girl.

Just a girl. Yes, a _girl_. Because she wasn't a strong independent woman right now. And she didn't have to be.

No one can be unbreakable and strong all the time.

"I won't leave you Tasha," he promised quietly just as he pulled out one of his darts and gently poked her arm. She needed to rest and he needed to work to get them out of the city undetected.

They can't do either of those things with her on the verge of giving him a full restricting _heart attack_ with every word that passed through her lips.

"That's what he always said - but he's a _liar_. He broke his promise. He left me," she murmured drowsily as she fell unconscious and went limp in his arms. Clint sighed heavily and continued carrying his broken partner down another cobblestone street and disappeared into the night before anyone found them.

All he knows is that he needs to get them out of this country before Red Room figured out he survived and took their _purposely_ traumatized Black Widow away from them.

She was _his_.

Whatever he does - he is never giving her back. Sanity or no sanity intact he didn't give one single shit - he'd still protect her. They weren't taking her back. Not until his last breath.

It's not that easy to kill Clint Barton.

There is only one way they can get to her.

Over.

His.

God.

Damn.

Dead.

Body.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: And now we start running across Europe. With Barnes on their heels, Natasha trapped in the mists of a full psychological breakdown (due to his 'death' and her triggered nightmare about the hospital fire), Clint ignoring injures that are more severe than he is letting on and SHIELD likely pissed at them for causing an international incident right dead center in Paris for the entire world to see. **

**Don't you think they just made the WORLD NEWS? Luckily they were all disguised as other people. **

**How much worse can it get...right? **

**Am I evil or what? :P **


	129. Chapter 129

**I Dare You **

**A/N: NOW THAT WAS A SAD CHAPTER! I apologize that the story doesn't get better….it's get worse. **

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**Chapter 129**

**New York, 30 minutes after the Paris operation was compromised.**

Danielle Bonaire was currently sitting crossed-legged on a white medical bed locked up in a SHIELD observation room (not unlike the one the assassins who sent her here were trapped in a week ago). She was currently flipping through the channels on her small TV screen meant to keep her from going insane in this tiny white box. Unfortunately she came to the conclusion that Americans had the _worst_ taste in dramas and TV shows she had ever seen. She missed France, she missed her home and she missed her work. Not because it was good or enjoyable- it was neither- it was just familiar and any freedom to move around was better than being an American agency's prisoner. 'Agent' Romanoff had kept her promise however - her organization's doctors were able to get the bomb implant out of her within a couple of hours of her landing in New York and led by cuffs into their medical wing.

Now she was in recovery with bandages wrapped around her chest and shoulder waiting until she got a little better before they moved her to another room for her first couple of 'standard psychological examinations'.

She snorted.

She knew that was just another fancy term for _'manipulative interrogation'_ disguised as a medical procedure.

Do these people think she is an idiot? She may not wield fancy deadly guns and numb chucks like other agents in this business - but she was a very well informed informant. One of the _best_ liaisons in the world. She knew her stuff.

That was about the same time she came across the BBC World News and nearly stopped breathing. The tea she was drinking instantly crashed to the floor and she immediately slammed her hand on the red emergency button beside her bed mounted on the wall.

She was hyperventilating.

This was _definitely_ what she considered an emergency.

5 seconds later the door burst open and Agent Coulson stalked through the opening and rounded on her with a _don't you dare shit with me today woman_ face.

"What the hell just the happened?" he demanded as he pointed to his tablet while she just continued to stare at the TV screen in horror.

"Did I just shoot someone 7 times on live television in front of the whole world to see?" Danielle asked in dreaded disbelief. Coulson narrowed his eyes as he watched her face crumble.

She knew nothing. He could tell just from the tremble in her hands.

"No. That wasn't _you_…," Coulson said darkly. Danielle inhaled a few shaky breaths.

_What has she done with my face?_

"Was she going to do that all along?" Danielle asked unsteadily swaying in place as she grabbed onto the wall to keep herself from collapsing in shock. Coulson sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to figure out the reasons why Agent Romanoff just ruined this French woman's life.

Her life was _over_. She would be branded an international murderer for the rest of her days.

"No. That was not her mission," Coulson said carefully as he flipped his tablet faced up and replayed the Paris CCTV footage that was currently on _BREAKING NEWS_ all over the world. He recognized the assailants chasing after Romanoff as Russian descents and he instantly paged for the Director.

This was going to cause an international incident.

And possibly a lot of unforeseeable deaths.

_Click_. The line went through.

"Coulson. Report," the Director's curt greeting that was usually a relief to hear was about to turn into a tone he did not want to hear at all.

A tone that meant everything had just gone to hell and someone would have to pay the price.

"Director - agent Barton and agent Romanoff have just been compromised on their mission due to external complications," Coulson said evenly. There was a _screeching_ noise at the other end of the line as if someone has just shoved their chair back and abruptly stood up.

"_Excuse me_? You want to repeat that agent?"Fury asked with a threatening undertone in his voice that said he was in _no_ mood for mind games.

"Turn the Paris News on, Sir," Coulson said with tension colouring his words. Fury narrowed his one good eye.

"Why?" he asked very carefully as he reached for his remote. Coulson took a deep breath.

"Because they just failed their mission, Sir," Coulson said cautiously as he slowed down the scene where agent Romanoff spun around with clear rage flashing in her fathomless blue contact-coloured eyes. It was Bonaire's face - but Romanoff's expressions. He knows what type of rage that was - grief mixed with agony.

That was a revenge murder she just carried out in less than 5 seconds flat. There was only one person she would take revenge for - of that he was certain.

The sound of Fury's TV turning on and other background noise rang on the other end of the line.

Deafening silence echoed on both ends of the com link.

Strike Team Delta has never failed a mission in their entire partnership.

Coulson's heart started to sink as he took a heavy seat beside the shell-shocked French prisoner sitting on her bed. He felt as unsettled as she looked though it did not show in his face. He watched the fire blaze behind his disguised agent and he knew why she killed this man with such hatred in her eyes.

_I asked you not to get him killed Natasha. My only friend. _

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Clint's eyes were focused, narrowed and steady as he continued driving down the empty dimly lit French countryside road. He had carried Natasha out of the downtown madhouse and found a decent _discreet_ car to commandeer before he strapped his unconscious partner into the passenger seat and promptly hit the road.

3 hours later he was all alone with his thoughts crashing against each other in his head as he tried to make sense of their current situation.

Their mission was an utter failure.

He nearly got _burned_ alive.

Barnes tried to kidnap his partner and take her back to Russia where she would likely to be brainwashed into a soviet-loyal assassin again and _forget all about him_. Clint felt his breath catch in his throat as he _breathed_ through that one.

He almost lost her - but that wasn't even the worst part.

The worst part was that she thought she lost _him_ and then promptly turned around and _murdered_ 11 men in under 5 minutes flat.

His partner was officially compromised and unfit for duty.

As an agent, it was his responsibility to drag her ass back to the SHIELD psyche department and hand her over to them.

As Clint, he would _never_ submit her to that kind of professional torture - he'd rather deal with it himself.

Natasha thought he was a hallucination before he drugged and knocked her out. That had been 3 hours ago.

Now she had a 50/50 chance of waking up still thinking he was a ghost or waking up with some _shred_ of her sanity back.

He was praying for the latter.

He kept his eyes trained on the empty street ahead of him while listening to her steady breathing because it was the only sound that permeate the air and it repeatedly reassured him that he had her alive and safely with him - at least physically. He had his focus so thoroughly trained to the rhythm of her breathing rate that the slight sudden shift immediately caught his attention.

He knows she's finally awake.

Clint felt his steady grip tighten around the steering wheel.

"Do you still think I'm a hallucination?" he asked guardedly while bracing himself for the worst. He felt her instantly give up the pretense that she was unconscious as she turned away from him. He waited for her answer as he held breath.

"_No_," she muttered curtly.

Clint felt his shoulders instantly relax as he sighed in utter relief - both at her answer and her frigid attitude. This Natasha he understood. This Natasha was the one he normally deals with. This Natasha was _Natasha_ - his partner.

The broken half_-lost in her own head_ Natasha from 3 hours ago scared him so much he couldn't even put his fear into _words_.

"You said a lot of things in Paris, Natasha," he said carefully while keeping his eyes on the road. Natasha tensed as her eyes flashed open.

"I don't want to talk to you right now Barton," she said warningly. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"You can't _not_ talk about it Natasha," Clint said heatedly. Natasha clenched her jaw.

"_Watch _me," she hissed before she promptly turned away from him and stubbornly stared out the window as the black forest rushing passed them. Clint just breathed through his nose and tried again because he wasn't going to stop and let her shove this one under their proverbial rug where all the _shit_ that happens in their partnership goes. Some things he lets slide because it was just too exhausting to fight her on every little problem.

But this was too big.

Some of the things she said hurt too much for him to ignore.

"Do you really think I should have killed you in Berlin?" he asked quietly. She instantly stiffened and curled her hands into fists as she finally looked at him with flashing eyes and every single wall he ever saw her use glaring in his face.

_What is the point of walls if I can see over them now, Tasha? _

"That wasn't _me_," she growled heatedly. Clint held her fiery gaze with a solemn one of his own.

"No. It wasn't. She was being a hell of a lot more honest than you _ever_ are," he said steadily. _Everything you ever say is wrapped in half truths and lies and I have to sit there and decipher what you really mean every single time. _

"She was delusional," Natasha said darkly. Clint felt like sighing - she was going to play the _emotional breakdowns don't happen to me _card_._

"Do you feel better now?" he asked tiredly, instead of getting into an argument with her about whether or not she was herself 3 hours ago. He knew it hurt her pride to think about how she lost it. Natasha suddenly looked a lot more irritated and a lot less like the mess of emotions she was in the alley.

He is pretty sure she is faking normalcy right now.

He doesn't know if that is a good thing or not.

"You drugged me - how the _fuck_ do you think I feel?" she muttered irritably. Clint didn't take the bait to start fighting. He could feel her desire to lash out at something simmering in her body but he wouldn't give it to her - not yet.

"We were about to get cornered and die under gunfire or get arrested or get kidnapped by fucking insane Russians that want to kill me and re-experiment on you...and you were _freaking me out _woman," he said evenly. She clenched her jaw in irritation.

"You should have left and saved your _own_ ass then," she said harshly. Clint narrowed his eyes and shot her a careful look as her words from the alley echoed in his ears.

_Just stay for a little bit longer. __Please__, don't go yet. I'm not ready for you to be gone yet._

It still made his heart tighten as he thought about what state she was in merely 3 hours ago. The fact that she was rebelling against that broken side of her meant that she was feeling better - if only marginally.

"You know you're _lying_ through your teeth right now Natasha because you _begged_ me not to leave you," he said warningly. The _normal_ you lies all the time about how she is really feeling - but the Natasha he found in the alley had been being _painfully, painfully_ honest about everything she was feeling in that moment.

He was glad he got to hear the things he always wanted her to say or confirm - but he _never_ wants to see that Natasha ever again. He prefers cold Natasha - this is her everyday persona and he always saw it as a challenge and a grand victory when he gets some softer responses out of _this_ Natasha.

"_Fuck_ you," she said menacingly. Clint sighed and took a patient breath. He knows that she was being a stubborn asshole because she thinks she made herself look weak, pathetic and _needy_ back in the alley.

Natasha was none of those things and one hell of a nasty, terrifying mental break down would not change his opinion that his partner was the scariest most badass spy in the world.

"You make it extreme difficult to like you - you know that right? Do you really think after all of this a little cheek and harshness is going to scare me away Tasha?" he asked tiredly. He felt Natasha grow still as she gathered whatever she needed to gather internally before she spoke.

"What do you want me to _say_? That I lost it, Clint? That I shot a man 7 times in a highly public location and it's probably all over the News now, Clint? That I spewed a whole ton of utter _shit_ to you after I lost my sanity, Clint?" she asked in utter disgust.

She had been a sobbing _mess_ - she is never going to forgive herself for being that weak.

"You thought I was dead," Clint said evenly. Natasha's eyes darkened.

"No shit," she spat. Clint frowned and narrowed his eyes.

"You're being defensive right now because you think I'm just doing you a favour by getting you out of the country and then you think I'm going to ditch you after nearly getting my ass torched," he said steadily. He knew her a lot better then she thought he did. He watched her stiffened beside him and instantly started breathing faster.

But he didn't know her well enough to predict this reaction.

"Stop the car," she said suddenly looking like she is about to have heart attack. Clint watched her sudden change in alarm.

"You better not run or I will taze your ass Romanoff," Clint said warningly. Natasha glanced at the pen in his hand and narrowed her eyes as her breathing rapidly picked up and turned erratic.

"Just. Stop. The. Car. Barton," she said through gritted teeth. Clint could tell she was on the verge of breaking the door down if he didn't listen - so he reluctantly slowed down and pulled over.

The second he shut the engine off and pulled the gear into park, she unlocked her side door and threw it open before she stumbled out onto the snowy patch of dirt beside the highway and then she _threw_ up.

A lot.

Uncontrollably.

Five seconds later someone was holding her long, tangled, dirty, blood-caked hair back as she continued to heave up everything she ate before their mission execution. Clint crouched down beside her and scolded himself for not seeing this coming.

But how could he? She could hide anything from him if she put her mind to it.

"You should have told me you were feeling nauseous," he muttered as he gently rubbed circles into her back. Natasha scowled harshly.

"While you were being a _jackass_?" she hissed as she braced her palms against the ground and tried to prevent herself from falling into her own disgusting retching mess.

"I'm not the only jackass here," he pointed out irritably. Natasha shot him a dirty look.

"Well _congratulations_," she spat out as she tried to get her breathing under control - she was failing. Clint watched her fight something in her head and realization washed over him.

"You're holding the explosion in aren't you?" he asked carefully. Natasha sharply shook her head.

"_No_. Shut up," she said as she gasped in ragged breaths and grabbed at the dead grass on the ground as she tried desperately not to lose control and freak him out.

If she blew up she'll lose him. He'll walk away when he truly understands how messed up she is. She doesn't want him to know the depth of her insanity.

What she didn't know was that it was already too late - he already knew.

She suddenly felt him gently grip her shoulder in a comforting grasp before he pressed his lips against the side of her head.

"_It's okay_. You can let go, Tasha. You can let go and do whatever you want with me. I'll still be your partner. I'll still be your friend. I'll still be whatever else you need me to be. It's okay if you hurt me. I don't break easily, Tasha," he said in quiet reassurance as he brushed his hand over her back. He felt her entire body go still as she inhaled one last sharp breath.

Then in a blink of an eye he was shoved onto his back and a furious looking Widow straddled his chest as she wrapped her dangerous hands around his throat.

"Tell me you're not going to leave me no matter I do to you! _Tell me_!" she demanded as she tightened her grip on his neck. Clint didn't even feel the fear.

That was the risk of being with the most dangerous woman in the world.

That was also the stupidity of falling too hard for her.

"You already know the answer to that one, Tasha," he said softly as he reached up and cupped her cheek. Natasha angrily shook her head.

"You're a liar. Everyone always leaves me. They just use me for their own god damn selfish reasons and when they're done they _throw me away_!" she shouted as her eyes started to redden around the edges - but there were no tears. Clint shook his head sadly.

"No, Tasha. I'll never throw you away, Tasha," he whispered honestly. _I can't throw you away no matter how broken you are. _Natasha simply narrowed her eyes and dangerously tightened her deadly choke hold on him.

"You're saying that only because I can kill you right now. Men always tell me what I want to hear when I'm about to kill them!" she growled but he could hear the real agony in her voice. She was silently begging him not to be afraid of her.

You have got to be _nuts_ not to be afraid of the Black Widow.

_Who_ said Clint Barton was sane? What dumb sucker said that?

"You don't think I know how to get out of a chock hold Natasha?" he asked quietly tracing a small pattern on her cheek as she continued to try and scare him.

He knows that if she thinks he is scared of her she'll shoot him before he ran away from her and then she'll turn around and shoot _herself_.

She suddenly grabbed his free hand that was touching her face and crushed it into a death grip - not hard enough to break any bones, but hard enough to hurt like hell. He still didn't make a sound as he just laid there and let her get out everything she has ever wanted to say to him.

"Why? Why do you stay? Why do you take my bullshit Barton? _Why, damn it_? Don't you think I'm crazy? Don't you think I should be locked up in a mental asylum? Don't you think the world would be a safer place if I was dead? That's what SHIELD thought! That's what _everyone_ thought! They thought I was a freak human experimental mess that needed cleaning up!" she bellowed at him. Clint was stunned into silence- but at the same time he wasn't.

"You're not a mess-," he tried to protest but she just continued shouting over him.

"Stop _lying_ to me! I'm a ticking time bomb! I'm a threat to my own god damn partner! I couldn't even save you when you needed me the most! The only man in the entire world who even saw a shred of good in me and I failed him! He had to save _himself_! If I'm not a good partner you'll leave me one day! Because your job means everything to you! If I'm not the best you'll find a new partner who is better than me! If I'm not the best you won't _want_ me anymore!" she shouted before she ended with a deep gasp of air as her words echoed around the silent dark countryside around them. Clint just laid there in utter silence.

This was the first time he was hearing _any_ of this.

"That's not true, Natasha. I was wrong before. Life's not all about the job, Tasha. Some things are more important than your job," he whispered softly. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Stop. _Lying_! Nothing is more important than paying back the debts you owe in blood," she spat darkly. Clint gave her a solemn look.

"Life is not all about debts," he said quietly. Natasha froze - he was wrong. Dead wrong.

"Yes it _is_! Life is about give and take! No one does anything out of the goodness of their bloody hearts! You spared me and I owed you a lifelong debt! I have to save you enough times to pay it back! If I can't save you, I can't pay it _back_!" she shouted with frustration ringing in her voice.

Clint blinked slowly.

She should have emotional explosions more often because this was the most information about her twisted thoughts he ever got out of her in their entire partnership.

"I never asked for this debt, Natasha. You made it _up_," he said carefully. Natasha angrily shook her head.

"It doesn't matter if you didn't ask for it. I have to give it to you anyway. Otherwise…otherwise nothing makes _sense_ anymore," she whispered suddenly losing the volume in her voice. Clint gave her a cautious look.

"What doesn't make sense, Tasha?" he asked quietly. He felt her finally loosen her death grip on his throat.

"_You_ don't. You don't make sense to me," she said tiredly as all the anger flew right out of her sails. She finally collapsed on top of him and just breathed heavily against his neck while she tried to calm down from her explosion.

He _told_ her bottling things up will lead to a massive explosive meltdown one day.

"Are you done?" he asked quietly running his hand through her hair. Natasha breathed hesitantly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm done," she whispered still stunned by the fact that he was still here. That he wasn't scared away by the demons she had deep inside of her.

"I'm not running away screaming my head off. Are you shocked?" he asked quietly.

"Shock...shock is an understatement," she said with a shaky laugh as she wrapped her arms around his neck in a less threatening gesture and buried her face in his shoulder.

_She finally found someone who won't leave her no matter what. _

"You know that half the shit you yelled at me I already knew before I even kissed you in Colombia right?" he said quietly. Natasha froze.

"You're completely _insane_ to want me," she whispered in defeat. Clint gave her a weak smile.

"Yeah. I know. You'll kill me one day," he said calmly. Natasha reached up and buried her hand in his burnt hair and shook slightly.

"You know what kills me? I don't even know if you're wrong or not," she said sadly. Clint simply hummed against her hair that desperately needed washing.

"Life sucks - except when it doesn't," he whispered. Natasha suddenly planted her palms on either side of his head and lifted herself off of him to finally get a good look at his beat up face. He left eye was a bit swollen, there was a massive bruise on his right cheek, his nose looked a bit weird at this angle and there were tiny scratches all over his left cheek - like he got dragged across splinted wood flooring.

He clearly did _not_ win the fight easily.

"You look like utter _shit_," she breathed out without thinking clearly about how rude that sounded. Clint chuckled darkly.

"Nearly dying does that to you," he said dryly. Natasha suddenly looked weary.

"I feel like an asshole for going nuts on you when you're already injured beyond reason," she said bitterly.

Clint merely shrugged.

"That's not that new. You're kind of a dick usually anyway," he said honestly. _Except when you're not. The small moments that make me fall harder for you. _

Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"I really, really _hate_ you sometimes," she huffed in frustration at his frank and cold cut honesty.

"Nah you're just saying that 'cause you know it's true," he said with a cheeky smile.

"Ugh! You're fucked up, Barton!" she said in outrage. Clint snickered at how flustered she was.

"I would think so - assholes are not such pleasant people - unless they are sleeping. You're kind of cute when you're drooling on me," he said as an afterthought. Natasha froze and then unfroze.

"I'm not _cute_," she growled threateningly. Clint raised an eyebrow.

"You got to let me say it if this is going to even have a chance in hell of working out you know," he said giving her a pointed look.

"I don't drool," she muttered reluctantly.

"Sure you don't," he drawled with amusement dancing in his eyes. She suddenly glanced at his arms.

"We need to stop somewhere overnight. You need to get your burns treated or you'll get an infection," she said immediately eyeing his heavy injures. Clint's eyes suddenly darkened.

"_No_. We need to keep moving. We are only 3 hours outside of Paris," he said sharply shaking his head. Natasha scowled at him.

"You are going to pass out from pain and land us in a car accident before anyone from Red Room even has the _chance_ to hunt us down!" she hissed. Clint felt like punching something - but he refrained from the undignified response and merely curled his hands into fists and shook in place.

"We _have_ no medical supplies Natasha!" he said tightly. Natasha still would not be moved.

"We'll _buy_ some," she said forcefully. Clint angrily shook his head.

"I have only _100_ Euros I found in this car - we can't possibly run with only 100 Euros _Natasha_," Clint said heatedly. Natasha suddenly stopped mid-breath into her sharp sarcastic retort when something he said echoed in her ears.

_Run. _

_They were on the run. _

"Where are we right now? Where are we even _going_ Barton?" she asked as she suddenly glanced around at the pitch darkness around them. He had been driving for hours into the night. She had no idea what he had been thinking - she wasn't in any condition to be doing the thinking really. Clint suddenly faltered in his own anger at her suddenly abrupt questions. He was weary of her response, but answered her anyway.

"_Geneva_," he said carefully. Natasha's eyes flashed as her head whipped to the side the stare at him like he was crazy.

"Why the fuck are we going to _Switzerland_? Paris was closer to the _Belgium_ border!" she shouted in outrage. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"They would expect us to take the faster way out of this country, Natasha. Planes are out of the questions and so were any trains or buses in the _shit_ condition we are both in right now. You _just_ woke up and I had no idea what I was going to get with you! Do you even realize how much you scare the shit out of me, _Natasha_!" Clint shouted back as he shook her by her shoulders. Natasha suddenly paled.

"They know we left by car," she whispered. Clint inhaled a sharp breath and nodded.

"Yes - but I chose the most unlikely route they would follow us on, Tasha. I avoided all SHIELD bases and posts. SHIELD is currently our biggest liability because at the rate things are going we have a god damn _mole_ so we are not even going to bother making contact. I threw our SHILED phones into a river when we were leaving Paris. They _knew_ what our mission was, Natasha. They knew when we were coming. I did everything to throw them off. I completely disregarded SHIELD protocol to a failed mission. _Why_ do you think there are no Red Room tails on us right now?" he asked heatedly. Natasha suddenly deflated as he explained his actions.

They were _good_ actions. They were smart decisions.

Barton was a _good_ agent who could think on his feet and kept them alive fairly well while she had been otherwise incapacitated.

Her partner was the reason she got out of that hellhole _alive_.

"We still failed the mission," she muttered finally. Clint looked dejected and miserable.

Perfect mission success rate - _down the drain._

"Coulson is going to be _pissed_," Clint groaned as he ran a hand through his singed hair.

Natasha instantly went quiet as she looked away. Clint furrowed his brow at her unexpected reaction.

"What? What is it?" he asked suspiciously. Natasha shook her head.

"Coulson will think you're dead from the CCTV footage of the fire," Natasha said quietly. _My reaction is going to offset him._ Clint paused and felt his jaw tightened. He had to make a choice.

If he wants to contact Coulson she'll leave him because it will immediately give their position away because they knew Barnes had someone watching SHIELD to see if they contact their handler. Coulson was probably under constant surveillance at this point.

Clint doesn't want their handler to worry - but he was safe or at least _safer_ than they are. It was _Natasha_ who wasn't safe and she was his first priority. Unfortunately her safety was more important than his best friend's feelings.

_Coulson will understand. _

"We can't contact him at all," he said finally in defeat. Natasha stared at him for a long moment. Clint steady stared back with the message clear in his sharp sniper eyes.

_Yes, I'm choosing to run with you, you crazy Russian pain in my ass. _

For a second she felt stunned - no one ever put her first in their priorities before. No one had ever given her the importance that Clint gives her.

It was half the reason she lost it 3 hours ago when she thought he was dead.

She quickly shook herself out of her momentarily distracting thoughts and got down to business.

"He puts trackers on us - it's not safe to walk around with trackers when they know where he is," she said carefully. Clint nodded reluctantly.

"Then the second we find a small town we are pulling over and getting rid of every single thing we have except our guns," he said carefully.

They both sat there in tense silence.

The implications hung in the air.

"He _wouldn't_," Natasha said darkly. She was going to murder their sneaky SHIELD handler.

"He _would_," Clint said in defeat.

"Then we'll get rid of those too when we find new ones," she said heatedly. Clint shook his head.

"Natasha, it's not that easy to find weapons in a foreign country's small towns," he said carefully.

Natasha suddenly snorted.

"Of course it is Barton. You just follow the trash until they lead you into the seedier parts of town and if you flash them the cash you can find whatever you want at the right prices," Natasha said with such certainty it caught him off guard. Clint suddenly gave her a weary look.

"I am unnerved that you know that with such confidence," he said warily. Natasha just sighed.

"Just trust me, okay?" she said carefully. Clint simply blinked unconcernedly - _he already did._

"Okay," he said quietly with a sudden faraway look in his eyes. Natasha gave him a suspicious look.

"What's wrong?" she asked carefully.

"I left Josie back at our hotel," he whispered with longing echoing in his voice. Natasha froze.

_Silence_.

Damn, what was she supposed to say to that?

"I'm sorry," Natasha said quietly. Clint shrugged half heartedly as he sighed.

"It's okay. Maybe Coulson will be smart and have someone pick up all our forgotten equipment," he muttered hopefully. Natasha gave him a disbelieving look.

"He will. He knows how much it means to you. It's the most important thing in your life," she said steadily. Clint paused and then suddenly shook his head.

"No, that's not true," he said quietly. Natasha snorted.

"You really don't think your handler doesn't know you inside and out? He knows you like the back of his _hand_ Barton," she said carefully. _He knows you better than I do._ Clint shook his head again.

"That's not what I meant," he said softly. Natasha rubbed her hand over her forehead and stared at him.

"Then _spit it out_ Barton because I am tired, covered in dry blood and I really want to raid a convenience store right now," she said impatiently.

"Josie was never the most important thing I my life," he said while staring at the forest behind her.

_Silence_.

He really shouldn't have said that.

"Let's get back into the car, Clint," she said uncertainly shifting away from him and the deeply contemplative look in his eyes. It was unsettling to see just _how_ consumed by his thoughts he was at the moment.

Because she doesn't necessarily want to know what he is thinking. Paris made things too real.

"It's because our partnership keeps you sane and grounded," he said suddenly out of nowhere. Natasha stiffened.

"What?" She asked cautiously. He finally tore his eyes away from the dark forest and locked with hers.

"You asked me why you missed me after I 'died'. It's because our partnership gives you a purpose beyond your desire to destroy the Red Room. It makes you want to stay alive. It gives you something to protect and fight for. It gave you companionship and once I was gone…the overwhelming feeling of loneliness nearly killed you," he said quietly. Natasha froze in place as he suddenly sat up and wrapped his arms around her.

"Clint…," she said warily with her face firmly pressed against his chest. Clint just held her tighter.

"I'm glad you missed me," he murmured against her hair.

Natasha sat there like a stiff rod as always but then the longer he held her the faster she felt the urge to hug him back fill her chest - until she was drowning in it. It scared the shit out of her because she doesn't _like_ human contact. 20 seconds later when the annoying feeling started crawling all over her skin she finally caved and irritably wrapped her arms around his broader waist. Clint felt his breath catch in his throat.

Natasha _never_ hugs him back.

"Next time let's have something other than com links to communicate that we aren't _dead_," she muttered against his chest. She squeezed him tightly and he suddenly collapsed in her arms and hissed in pain. She froze and pulled back to see him holding his side with agony flashing across his face.

"That is _it_. We _need_ to treat them," she said angrily. Clint shook his head.

"No…they're good….," he croaked as he tried to lie but failed miserably. Natasha just stared at his pitiful form.

She can't _believe_ he ignored second degree burns for 3 hours _- while driving a god damn car._

"You're about to kneel over," she said flatly.

"Not that bad," he wheezed as he waved her concern away with his hand. Natasha didn't look convinced one bit.

"Let's go and raid that convenience store - I'm driving," she said with finality before she carefully hauled him off the ground and herded him towards the passenger seat. She opened the door and bossily pointed to the seat.

"_Sit_," she ordered in her cold scary military-styled voice. Clint raised a wary eyebrow but did as she asked because he felt like utter crap.

"Pushy," he muttered as he heavily dropped down into the seat and leaned back against the headrest while trying to internalize the pain he had been steadily ignoring for hours. She suddenly leaned over him and yanked on the seat belt to strap him in. Clint blinked- literally stunned into silence.

This role reversal shit really screwed with his head.

"You don't have to-," he started to protest but she just covered his mouth with one hand as she locked the seat belt into place with the other. She glanced back up at his questioning eyes and firmly stared him down with her iron will.

"I _want_ to," she said very carefully as she unexpectedly brushed the singed spikes of brown hair out of his eyes and gently trailed her fingers down his roughly scratched up cheek before she pulled back and shut the door in his face. Clint inhaled a sharp stunned breath and felt his heart pump so fast it was ringing in his ears and made him dizzy.

He thinks he fell just a _little_ bit harder.

Shit, she made it so damn _hard_ not to.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Natasha is not fully fixed - but when is she ever? **

**Now…he clearly must have burns on his back that need treating…so I wonder what the next chapters is about…?**

**Where is Barnes I wonder?**

**I wonder why Barton is taking her to Geneva? What's in Geneva?  
**

**What is SHIELD going to do to Natasha after she failed a mission, 'got her partner killed' and caused a world incident?**

**The Radio silence won't help their case. **

**And Poor Coulson thinks Barton is dead. :(**


	130. Chapter 130

**I Dare You **

**A/N: So…when you are cut off from SHIELD all alone with your partner are you the good guys or the bad guys? **

**Is there a difference? **

**This chapter is PAINFUL. Ouch. Poor Clint. **

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**Chapter 130 **

Half an hour of driving later, Natasha pulled them into a parking lot in front of a moderately large convenience store located on the edge of a small French town. She was currently inside hording all of the medical supplies she would need now and possibly in the foreseeable future; from bandages to compression gauze, to antibiotic ointment and alcohol swabs. She even got a full first aid kit - because she knew they would need it eventually. Also, just in case they weren't able to make another stop without an Russian army of assassins on their ass she also picked up a handful of lighters, pocket knives, energy bars, chocolate bars, two small backpacks, a map, 2 pairs of sunglasses, and a set of clothes for him and another set for her. She also stared at the dental work aisle for a good 20 seconds and promptly grabbed a pair of toothbrushes and toothpaste - don't ask why.

Natasha unceremoniously dumped all this junk into a cart and stared at it. She didn't need to do the math to know where the total was going to come out to.

Basically they were poor and they couldn't afford these necessities - just like Barton said. If what he said about SHIELD was also true (which she would bet her favourite gun it was) he had tossed their SHIELD emergency credit cards out the window hours ago.

They were seriously running on _nothing_ but the dirty clothes on their backs. The only reason she hasn't freaked out the poor boy manning the cash register with her ghastly appearance was because they had found an oversized black hoodie in the trunk of the car Barton had stolen back in Paris - which she was currently wearing over her blood stained clothes.

Thank god, she had the decent mind to wear all black on this Op that went to hell. It was harder to see blood on black fabric.

Now for her current poverty problems. Natasha glanced around the relatively empty store but paused when she caught sight of a tired looking French man in a suit walking down the aisle beside hers through the gaps in the shelves.

_Bingo_.

She strategically backtracked down the aisle she was in and sharp turned a corner so that she slammed right into the sad-eyed businessman. They both went crashing to the ground and she theatrically flailed a bit to startle the older officer worker. In the moment of disarray she promptly felt around his solid frame and located his wallet in his left coat pocket.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Sir!" Natasha said apologetically while over doing her southern American accent just a bit. The businessman looked thoroughly flustered with such a pretty young redheaded woman sprawled out on top of him. He sputtered a bit as he turned bright red and in another life she would have messed with him more, flirted with him more, left him wanting more. But she no longer had the desire to toy with men off mission. If she had been feeling particularly nasty Natasha would have flashed him some dangerously pearl white teeth that would unnerve a tiger- but she didn't want to scare him. That was not her play on her angle.

In their hurried jerky motions to right themselves Natasha managed to slip her hand into his pocket and swiftly apprehend his wallet.

Just because she was most well known for her skills in the assassination business didn't mean she didn't excel at other illegal skills as well. Pick pocketing being one of the easiest and most useful skills. However she usually refrained from it because she had more class then this. Why steal when kill money was so easily attainable?

However, there was no such thing as _class_ while you're being hunted by insane soviet assassins.

The businessman suddenly seemed to _finally_ get a hold of his wits and being the first gentleman she met on this damn failure of a mission he actually _helped her to her feet_. She nearly felt like laughing hysterically - she had met so few decent men in her life that the good ones just made her want to bang her head against a wall and laugh a bit depressingly.

"No. It's quite alright. However, travelling at 3 am is rather late in the night though don't you think?" he asked concernedly. _For a woman_, she heard him leave unsaid. Natasha gave him a mysterious smile that always had men going weak in the knees and got them lost in the secrets hidden in her smile - even her partner.

The only difference was that she only smiled _genuinely_ for Clint. Everyone else got the pretty standard _I'm going to eat you alive_ smile.

If this man knew the type of woman she was he would be running in the opposite direction. Any sane man would. She concluded a long time ago that she was partnered with a mad-archer. Instead of ending the conversation right then and there she fed the businessman pretty lies to ease his old fashion chivalrous worries.

"Yes, but I am on a road trip across Europe with my boyfriend as a graduating college celebration," Natasha lied smoothly. He looked immensely relieved to hear she had a 'boyfriend' waiting for her in the car. Natasha felt grim for a moment. She has never said more sickening lies in one sentence then right now. If they got attacked now Barton would be practically useless and she would be the one responsible for taking out the threats.

"Ah. Well he is very lucky to have such a pretty lady like you," he said with a slight nod and a warm relieved smile. Natasha smiled wryly.

She knows he is _lying_ through his teeth because she looked like the poster child for domestic violence.

"Thank you - I'll be sure to tell him," she said calmly before she turned to walk away. She caught the odd look on his face and hope to god he would not try to stop her.

"Just one last thing! I heard there were a series of brutal and bloody murders in Paris a few hours ago. Be careful if you two plan on heading that way!" he called out after her. Natasha calmly waved and kept walking.

I _am_ the dangerous mass murderer you fool.

"Thanks for the heads up!" she said causally over her shoulder. The second Natasha rounded the corner she pulled out the poor gentleman's wallet from her pocket and riffled through it to see how much cash she had just stole.

500 Euros. She stuffed the bills into her back pocket without remorse.

She wasn't sorry.

She waited until the businessman walked out the front door before she paid for all the supplies she needed to fix her beat up partner (_again_). Then she stared at the wallet in her hand - it was full of bank cards, I.D. and his social insurance card. Those things were useless to her. She should just throw it in the trash before she left - but something stopped her.

_You know what you should do, Tasha. _

She narrowed her eyes - _when_ had he take up permanent residence in her head exactly? She can't even remember how long she has had his voice chatting in her mind.

"I fucking hate you Barton and your god damn need to be my conscience," Natasha muttered irritably before she spun around and slammed the wallet onto the counter in front of the startled cashier. She gave the poor frightened teenage boy a deadly look.

"I found this wallet on the floor 3 aisles back - if the owner comes back for it please give it to him," she steadily before she spun around and carried her spoils out the door without a single glance back.

She knows he will be back.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

A few minutes later Clint was still slumped in his seat as he watched his partner swiftly walk across the parking lot with enough junk to alarm him. She opened the back door and he instantly turned into a sniffing guard dog.

"That is way more than 100 Euros worth of junk Natasha…," Clint said carefully staring at her bags with suspicion in his eyes. Natasha didn't even bother dealing with him.

"Do you _really_ want to know Barton?" she asked impatiently as she threw all the supplies into the backseat to deal with later once they found a crap roadside motel to house them for the next few hours. Clint suddenly inhaled a sharp breath as she dropped into the driver's seat beside him.

"Please tell me you didn't kill anyone, Tasha," he said with quiet worry. Natasha stiffened.

_Damn, he thinks I've completely gone over the edge of insanity. _

"No. I purposely bumped into a lonely looking businessman and I stole his wallet while he was flustered," she muttered. There was a brief moment where utter relief flooded his face - before the idea of _how_ exactly she managed to 'bump into' someone when Natasha _never_ miscalculated her position near other people where they are in close proximity - that ruined his mood.

"Oh," he muttered back and sharply turned away from her while trying to hide his jealous expression.

She noticed anyway. She always noticed.

"He was an older married French man," she said warily - she didn't know what she was trying to say really. Clint scoffed.

"Like that stops people," he said darkly. _I've watched all types of men leer at you._

Natasha gave him a steady look. _We're not even married_.

"Would you have preferred I murdered the teenaged cashier or stole from a fairly well off businessman Barton? Because we don't have a lot of options right now," Natasha said tightly.

Clint froze.

"Ugh! You always blur the _lines_ Natasha," he said running his hand through his hair in frustration. Life used to be so simple before her. There were good guys and then there were bad guys. He was a good guy who shot bad guys with arrows and bullets. Then he would pack up and go home with the knowledge that he was making the world a better place by making sure there was one less scum bag preying on the innocent.

And then he had to meet a target like _her_. Surrounded by bad, trained by bad, forced to do bad but not _inherently_ bad.

But does that still make her the bad guy?

"There _are_ no such thing as lines Barton," Natasha said warningly. Clint shook his head and sighed heavily into his hands.

"I'm not in any mood to argue with you about what counts as simply illegal versus downright evil Natasha, Just drive." he said in defeat as he slumped in his seat in exhaustion. Natasha watched him close his eyes and breathe quietly for a few seconds before she started and car and pulled them out of the parking lot.

There was a long uncomfortable silence between them as she searched for a motel. It's the most unlikely of the two who tried to breech the silence this time.

"He said my boyfriend waiting in the car for me was a lucky man," she said quietly as she continued down the dark road without looking at him. Clint opened his eyes in quiet surprise before he glanced at her calm and controlled expression that was focused on finding them a place to rest, recover and regroup. _Then_ she was going to bring hell and light Russian ass on fire for trying to light her _partner's_ ass on fire. He glanced down and noticed she drove with one hand on the steering wheel and one hand sitting idly in her lap.

Sometimes the things Natasha does doesn't make much sense to most - but it made sense to him. He silently picked up her subtly offered hand and laced their fingers together before he held it tightly like it was the only thing grounding him in this world. Her apologies were so quiet you could completely miss them if you weren't watching carefully for the signs.

But Hawkeye was _nothing_ if not carefully observant.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

30 minutes later after clearing out the convenience store Clint was lying face down on a itchy ugly hard chunk of wood and straw masquerading as a bed while his partner was doing who _knows_ what with a pile of medical junk beside him. If he was honest with himself - he didn't really want to know.

"I _hate_ roadside shitholes," he muttered into the odd smelling pillow. Natasha simply reached over and mercilessly flicked him in the head. That assault caused him to flinch in even _more_ pain - which just proved that he needed medical attention at all.

"Stop whining Barton," she said warningly as she searched through the first aid kit for all the things she was going to need. Clint carefully opened one eye to watch her intensely focused expression while he tried to ignore what she planned to _do_ with all her supplies.

"Tasha, if you heal at the frightening rate that you do - why do you know how to give medical aid so well?" he asked quietly - more to distract himself than anything else. Natasha didn't even pause in her prep work but replied because she knew what he is doing.

"I didn't always have enhancers, Barton. You know that," she said simply as she soaked a few small towels in a bowl of cool tap water. Clint frowned as he turned his head on his pillow and watched her more closely.

"Trust me, I know there is a difference between stitching up yourself and stitching up someone else," he said carefully. He felt her grow quiet beside him before she finally answered.

"I learned," she said quietly and left it at that. _To be a better partner_, was left unsaid. Clint exhaled softly as a pleasant warm feeling filled his chest at the implication of her words - but the feeling promptly shrivelled up and _died_ at her next words.

"I'm ready when you are Clint," she said in a soft voice as she casually crossing her legs while loosely holding a pair of medical scissors in her hand in a nonthreatening position (for now). Clint narrowed his eyes - she was trying _too_ hard to be casual for it not be an act. She is a person that learned fast and never made the same mistake twice. She would be dead if she made a mistake more than once. That is why she won't approach him the same way twice.

They both remember his sudden panic attack from 2 nights ago with perfect clarity.

However, Clint didn't want to breeched that topic just yet and so he did what he does best - he stalled.

"Are you really going to stick those freezing towels on my poor battered skin?" he asked suspiciously eying the bowl full of towels. Natasha took his question (_stalling_) at face value and played along for now. She doesn't want to treat him like a frightened skittish deer - but that was how he was acting.

And unfortunately she was a _very_ good hunter and was going to scare the shit out of him if she didn't trend carefully.

"It's cool - not freezing. And unless you want to apply the ointment on still flaming dirty wounds then sure - let's skip that part," she said calmly. Clint scowled at her.

"But-," he started to protest, but she actually had more to say so she talked over him before he had time to get scared. She _knows_ Barton is not afraid of death by her hands. He has proven his fearlessness of her over and over again until it was a moot point. Her partner would never be afraid of her. It was more of a comfort to her than anything else he could possibly give her. It made her feel safe and secure in her skin. No, _that_ fear was too easy. Death is too easy and painless to fear.

He's scared of revealing his ghosts. The ones that haunt his mind and left marks that haunt his skin. The ones he has kept close to his chest for years and shared with no one but his longest and most trustworthy confidant.

That wasn't _her_ - not yet. She hasn't earned it yet.

Natasha is a strategist. She knew how to get under people's skin (both figuratively and literally). The best way to get Clint Barton to do anything - was to trick him into it. Either she could gently sooth him or she could challenge him.

She decided on the latter because it had fewer emotions involving her. She was selfish when she had the choice - that was just how she was.

"-And then you'll get a raging infection that will eat away at your skin, give you a gaping hole in your side, wreck your internal organs, shut down your nervous system, possibly paralyze you and promptly end your agent career with a fart. Not a bang, but a _fart_," she said with a straight no nonsense face. Clint stared at her in honest disbelief.

Did she just…?

_Cricket…cricket…cricket…_

"You're _evil_… an _evil_ little Russian woman," he grumbled darkly while giving her a wicked glare. Natasha ignored him and quickly got down to business before he let the panic settle into his veins and ran for his life. Before he got his senses back and didn't let a crazy Russian assassin come near him with scissors - deadly weapons in the hands of a deadly killer.

"Where are the worst burns, Barton? Or do you want an early retirement?" she asked calmly, but the seriousness bled through her words anyway. Clint's expression instantly turned grim with a hint of nervousness that bordered on panic - but he was not quite there yet. Natasha was too familiar for him to go into full out panic mode that fast. She was one of the only people that made him feel _safe_.

But if she pushed too hard he _would_ get there.

"On my left arm…," he muttered as he unconsciously shifted away from her - he couldn't go too far without falling over the edge though, so Natasha ignored it and simply watched him with careful eyes as he started to breath faster.

"And…?" she asked tiredly as she waited for him to admit it on his own. She didn't necessarily want to trigger another panic attack. Clint clenched his jaw in stubbornness and fought to keep his heart rate _down_.

"On my hip," he muttered as he continued to stall and tensed up like he would _bolt_ the second she put her hands on him and came _anywhere_ near him with those scissors. Natasha put the scissors down out of his sight and waited for his explosion.

Clint did not disappoint.

"And my lower back, _woman_! God damn it why are you doing this to me? I _told_ you it wasn't that bad! Why don't you believe me? What do you want me to _say_ Natasha?" he finally shouted angrily at her before he buried his face in his pillow and started shaking uncontrollably as he sharply turned away from her.

Natasha sighed heavily and fell back against the pillow beside him and stared up at the ceiling wondering who hated her _this_ much. She didn't _want_ to comfort him. She was crap at comfort (or more likely she didn't know if she _wanted_ to be good at it).

"I don't know what you should say, but _I'd_ normally say we can sit here all day and wait you out Barton - but we can't. We have to leave in 6 hours. I want to cross the border before noon," she said carefully reminding him of the danger they were in if they weren't prepared to fight, run and keep themselves alive. Clint stubbornly kept silent as he seethed at her for pushing him.

Time for Plan B.

He froze as she started silently combing her hand through his short hair. He felt her lean her chin on his shoulder and turn her head so that her warm breath blew against his ear and Clint just didn't think it was _fair_. He was at war with his body which simultaneously wanted to relax and move closer to her because she was _Tasha,_ but at the same time it wanted to tense up and rapidly recoil from her touch because she was manipulating him into relaxing because she _knew_ she was _Tasha_.

He knew that didn't make any sense whatsoever - all he knew was that she was doing something _evil_ and utterly betraying him.

"I can knock you out and then treat you Clint. Would you like me to do that?" she offered quietly in his ear. Clint suddenly sucked in a deep breath at the unexpected third option beside heavily freaking out and being restrained by her while she bandaged him or painfully dying from his wounds and kneeling over.

"_Yes_," he whispered as he slammed his eyes shut like a coward and hoped she wouldn't judge him.

He felt her carefully press her lips against the side of his head he like he does for her, before she skillfully pinched the nerve at the back of his neck to knock him out.

Of course she wouldn't judge him.

And then everything went _blissfully_ black_. _

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

An hour later Clint gasped as he shot up in a cold sweat and his eyes instantly shot down towards his chest. There were clean white bandages wrapped around his waist, the entire length of his left arm, his left ankle and his right thigh. He felt his face and found patches of gauze where the burns were the worst. He wasn't wearing anything except a fresh set of black sweatpants. Last time he checked he was still wearing a fully equipped heavily _burnt_ SHIELD uniform. He checked himself over again just to be sure he was okay and realized for the first time in hours nothing hurt, he was healing and he was _safe_.

And then he finally _breathed _easily.

A few minutes later he also realized that the reason for the sudden changes in his condition was yet to be seen.

"Natasha?" Clint called out as he rapidly searched the dimly lit hotel room for his partner - but she was nowhere to be found. He felt his heart stop beating for a second.

_No. _

_Did she leave him? _

Clint instantly buried his face in his hands and started harshly berating himself. _Of course she left him. Why wouldn't she after the shitshow he just gave her? Damn, did she think he was pathetic? That he couldn't protect her anymore? That he would hold her back? That she was better off running and fighting off Barnes and his fucking Russian army alone?_

He wouldn't fault her if she did think any of those things.

Where did you go Natasha?

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**A/N: Natasha seriously where did you go? What happened? Did his scars scare you away? **


	131. Chapter 131

**I Dare You **

**A/N: Let's be honest - I trolled ALL of you with that cliffhanger last night. :P Yeah, yeah I'm an internet troll :D Don't kill me - I'm a nice troll. :P  
**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 131**

When Clint finally found enough strength to look up and deal with his shit situation he was startled when he found a steaming cup of hot coffee in his face. His heart stopped all over again - she was going to give him a _heart attack_ one day.

"It tastes horrible because it's from a little packet - but I think you need it," she said quietly taking a seat on the bed in front of him, dropping a bag full of metallic junk that sounded like guns knocking together onto the floor. Clearly she went places she couldn't take injured unconscious Clint with her. Clint just stared at the coffee and then slowly followed the hand holding it all the way up to her beautiful cautious face. He felt his breath catch in his throat. Natasha was _always_ beautiful - but his intense relief at seeing her sitting in front of him (and not already halfway across the world) made her practically _glow_ - regardless of how ruffled and tired she still looked. Clint instantly reached out and shakily accepted the black steaming drink and took a hesitant sip.

He made a twisted face - it tasted _awful_. Natasha nodded solemnly.

"Yeah, I know it tastes bad - but does it make you feel better?" she asked a bit too carefully. Clint gave her a cautious look mid-sip as he thought about it. If nothing else - it was _warm_. And he was so cold.

"Yeah, kind of…," he said uncertainly as he took a few larger gulps because the warm liquid flowing through his body really _did_ make him feel better. Natasha nodded like she knew what he was thinking (she probably did).

"Then drink all of it and then we'll talk…or not. Whatever you want," she said evenly as she rested her hands on her knees and just waited for him to finish. Clint paused as he stared at the black coffee swirling in his cup and then back at her expectant face and once again back at the coffee. _Then_ he sniffed it and made a disgusted face.

"There is fucking _Benedryl_ in here," he muttered irritably glaring at the drugged coffee in his hands that were no longer shaking. No wonder she said it would taste nasty. Natasha didn't even look ashamed at getting caught; in fact she looked thoroughly _satisfied_ when she watched his frame finally stopped trembling.

"Yes," she said simply. Clint just scowled at her.

"I hate you _so much, _Tasha_. _You have no idea how much I'd like to punch you in the face and shake you until you pass out. I hate your _guts _you evil, sly, sneaky, vicious, vindictive, cruel, cheap, sadistic, violent, destructive, terrifying, nasty, cold, poisonous…(a few dozen insults later)…pain in my ass _Russian_," he muttered spitefully under his breath even as he kept drinking the allergy-meds-that-can-act-as-a-calming-drug laced coffee. Natasha just vigilantly kept watch to make sure he drank _all_ of it. She easily ignored his never-ending list of insults to her personality.

He was a liar. He promised he'd never hate her and she was skilled enough to know when he was telling the truth versus when he was being a sharp pain in _her_ ass.

"You tranquilized me while I thought I was hallucinating. I think we're even," she said flatly. Clint finally ceased his rude string of insulting adjectives as he remembered doing that to stop her from scaring him shitless - he winced.

"Sorry," he muttered as he finally stopped insulting her virtue. Natasha just gave him a slight smile - she had been called so many worst things than his little train wreck of words spewed out of mere irritation that they didn't even _have_ an effect on her. In fact they were unfortunately all _true_ at some point in their partnership and above all else, she still heard his fondness for her deep, deep, (_very_ _deep_) underneath all his _real_ contempt.

It's the type of feeling where you want to simultaneously kiss someone and _slam _their head into a wall at the same time - she felt it often enough. (Maybe that was why they kissed against walls so much).

"It's okay," she said quietly. Clint was silent as he watched her watch _him_ finish off his nasty drugged coffee. When he was done he put in on the side table next to him before they sat in silence merely inches apart - he _hated_ it.

"Can I just…can I have a damn hug or something?" he asked tiredly running his right hand through his hair. She can't keep doing this to him or he was going to have a heart failure soon. After all that madness you kind of just want to hold someone - preferably someone important. Natasha used to _hate_ hugs - even all the way back in Cuba when he first hugged her. She doesn't know what happened between then and now. Now Natasha just gave him a flat out blank look, but leaned forward anyway on her knees to wrap her arms carefully around his neck. She felt him quickly drag her forward and bury his face in her collarbone.

She took a deep breath as he tightly gripped the back of her shirt and let him hold her as strongly as he wanted - she unfortunately knew now that his hugs were one of those 'significant' things she would… (insert the repulsed Widow's face) _miss _if he was gone. It was right up there with kissing, sparring, dancing, his master cooking skills, his snarky bastard attitude that matched her own, getting a drink together even if she can't get drunk, his ability to thoroughly watch her back in the field, training juniors with him, doing paperwork together and writing their mission reports with his annoying chatter in her ears, that one _amazing_ head massage on their couch, sleeping in his arms, waking up in his arms, sitting in companionable silence while waiting for extraction when there was nothing to say, eating breakfast (that _he_ made) or any type of takeout together and the intense bickering and exchanging of sharp sarcastic wit that never got old and just got nastier and nastier the more they got to know each other better and learned _exactly_ what to say to thoroughly piss the other off.

They were _really_ good at pissing each other off.

No one has _ever_ caught the spider - and if they did she always managed to get out of their grasp soon enough. But if all of _that_ (What the _hell_ was all that?) was his ploy to gain her trust and trap her forever? She was a willing prisoner.

Who _wouldn't_ want all that?

"You make it sound so juvenile," she muttered with her cheek resting on his bare, uncovered shoulder. Clint snorted against her skin.

"I don't care. I should be allowed to hug my partner - even on base. Off base I should be allowed to get away with a _hell_ of a lot of other things," he muttered back a bit touchily. Natasha sighed and just decided to leave that battle for another day (like _hell_ she would ever let him hug her on base - she'd _stab_ him before he got near her).

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked cautiously. Clint scoffed and held her tighter.

"Do I even have a _choice_?" he asked heatedly. Natasha stiffened.

"You always have a choice, Barton," she said very carefully. _Choices are important - you told me that._ Clint sighed in defeat and finally caved.

"Sure, hit me with your best shot," he said tiredly. What did he have left to hide anyway?

He was ready for the words - just not the scary tone she said it in.

"Which sick bastard carved the word FREAK onto your back?" Natasha whispered menacingly in his ear. Clint's entire body froze in her arms but she just kept steadily carting her hand through his hair and locked him into place so he had no way to escape. He might be physically stronger then her, but she could use his own strength against him.

_Thank God_ she drugged him with drugs that made him feel sleepy and lethargic because _that_ would normally have put him into cardiac arrest and ended his life right then and there.

"It doesn't matter who-," he started to shoot down her question but she just plowed right over him.

"You're going to tell me or I'm going to find out in ways you don't _want_ me to," she said threateningly. Clint swallowed as her grip tightened in his hair. The Black Widow's threats are very, very real.

"A bunch of older boys who thought I was stealing their thunder during the circus shows did it," he said in defeat. Natasha made a disgusted noise.

"The scarring is almost half a centimetre deep - _were they insane_?" she hissed. Clint winced from the sheer _anger_ in her voice.

"I know. It hurt like _shit_. 5 of them held me down in an alley and did it. It sucks to be small and have the strength of a 12 year old. I didn't cry until they were gone. They honestly thought it would heal over quickly and that it was one big hilarious _joke_," Clint said bitterly. Natasha pulled back and stared at him dead in the eye.

"You would have bled heavily for _days_," she said darkly. _I know knives. I know what is life threatening and what is enough just to scare someone or humiliate them._ _They nearly killed you._ Clint sighed tiredly.

"Yeah, I did," he said vacantly. Natasha taped his cheek to knock his out of his own head.

"Did you go to the hospital?" she asked steadily. He shook his head and chuckled darkly.

"_Hospital_? I couldn't afford the bill let alone the _humiliation_. That's why they look so bad. I lied there in the alley bleeding for _hours_ before an old man who lived on that street found me. I would have died if he haven't come looking for his cat and found my tiny broken body instead. I didn't live in a neighbourhood where people would do something when they saw a scene like that. We lived in the backwater towns - Iowa was not your dream state. People got beat up and bled out all over the place. I was lucky. He _helped_ me. He carried me back to the circus tent," Clint said quietly. Natasha shook her head in disbelief.

"What did they do at the circus when they got you back? Tell me they did _something_," she said insistently. You hear so many stories about the great American country of freedom, justice and fairness. Maybe there is some truth in it. Maybe they want to stand for those things - but not every single person is treated kindly in _any_ country.

Clint just shook his head sadly.

"No. No one said anything because we weren't legally supposed to be working in the circus show without parental consent. We were strays. We were foster kid runaways. So everyone knew - but they stayed silent. I kept quiet too - I was the quiet kid anyway. I dragged myself into my trailer and patched myself up and got Barney to help a bit. Though he said I was a stupid wimp for getting caught," Clint whispered with deep sense of hurt underlying his words. _My own brother barely gave me any sympathy. _He was not an extremely fast runner - not like her. He preferred to start with distance - not _make_ distance.

"What are their _names_?" Natasha asked darkly. Clint froze and then promptly shook his head. _Oh no - she wasn't going to go assassinate his bullies from 13 years ago. _

"They're a bunch of assholes working in the drug smuggling business now probably, Tasha. It doesn't-," he started to protest but she slammed her hand over his mouth and sharply shook her head.

"_Don't_. Just don't even go there Clint. They held you down and humiliated you with torture and no idea how to use knives. _No idea_," she said angrily. Clint's eyes suddenly grew so sad and lost that you could almost _see_ him wilt and curl into himself. If he wasn't hugging her so tightly he might have gone into fetal position.

"But that's the _thing_, Tasha. I shouldn't have been that good. I was 11 when I could shoot an apple off a tree - a very specific marked apple from 50 meters away. I was small and weak, but I was better at acrobatics than half the older professional acrobats who had been training for _years_. I walked in one day and was just doing small tricks and they were all so _angry_ at me. I was a squirt, I was the new kid and I was supposed to be a shadow to their big ego-filled performance. Nobody liked talent in someone like me, Tasha. I wasn't meant to be talented. They didn't want my talent. Talent makes you look like a freak," he said dejectedly leaning his forehead against her shoulder and trying to push back memories of his painful past with memories of _her_. Of how she smelled sweet even if that didn't translate to her personality, of how she moved with such grace, of how she felt wrapped in his arms, of how she candefinitely _kick_ his ass, no doubt - but then she took _care_ of him. She never left lasting damage. Every bruise she landed always fades within days. He watched her fight him and he can see her calculating how hard to land a hit a split second before she follows through. She was rough - but not careless.

There were so many reasons why he _liked_ Tasha - even if no one else did. Like when she suddenly pulled back and roughly grabbed his face and stared him down with a piercing look that felt like an arrow just stabbed him through his _soul_.

"You're a _natural_ archer, sniper _and_ a smartass. Your perfect shot came from _you - _whatever the hell you are made of, at least you know that it is all _you_. You didn't get your skills injected into your body from a laboratory serum. You didn't get them through a mutating accident. You weren't experimented on or brainwashed over and over again Clint. You're not a freak - _trust me_," she whispered earnestly as she shook him forcefully. _If anything I am the experimental freak show in this partnership._ Clint still didn't look very convinced - but she could tell he believed her somewhat.

"Yeah and yet I still ended up the loner sniper working for an illegal intelligence agency anyway. Killing people because I can't _stand_ people," he muttered darkly. Natasha faltered, because how could she refute that when it was true? All she really had was one example.

"…And then we ended up as partners," she pointed out quietly. Some of the darkness faded from his expression as he tightened his grip on the back of her shirt like it was his lifeline.

"Yeah. You're right- then we ended up as partners," he said softly. Natasha shifted in his arms and tried to figure out how to get the faraway look out of his eyes that was mixed in with the fondness as he was watching her with.

"So…you're not a complete loner right?" she said uncertainty as she tried not to wince at how _bad_ that sounded - but she knew it was better than the cold silence she gave him after Japan. Clint smiled softly.

"You got better at comforting, Tasha," he said warmly as he curled a strand of her red hair behind her ear. Natasha scowled crossly, but felt an odd warm feeling fill her chest. He mostly did that when she did something surprising that he liked.

"Don't expect me to be SHIELD's resident shoulder to cry on. I'll still break _anyone's_ face if they try to touch me in _any_ shape or form," she said threateningly - her dangerous threat kind of lost its effect when he chuckled and his breath tickled her skin due to how close he was.

"Am I special?" he asked with a slight grin as he threw her past words back at her. Natasha frowned.

"This doesn't count. You're my partner," she said steadily. Clint shook his head and chuckled a bit more.

"You're such a _liar_, Tasha," he whispered fondly. Natasha did _not_ look as amused.

"It's my job to be a professional liar," she muttered grumpily. Clint nodded and suddenly twirled a strand of her red hair around his finger his expression growing solemn.

"Are you going to ask about the rest?" he asked warily. She paused and then shook her head slowly.

"No. Not if you don't want me too," she said softly. Clint exhaled a deep breath of _relief_.

"_Thank you._ I'll tell you later. There's a lot…there is a lot in my head and I don't think it's even possible to tell you everything at once - even if I _could_," he said uncertainly. He watched her stare at her hand for a second before she reached out and grabbed his limp hand that was resting on her hip and gave it a tentative squeeze as she locked eyes with him. He smiled calmly and squeezed back.

"No, it's probably not possible," she agreed quietly. Clint nodded slowly and finally pulled away and rubbed his face tiredly - more tired than he should be.

"Your drugs made me a bit overtired instead of just a sleepy calm," he muttered a bit put off by how drowsy he was feeling. Natasha shrugged nonchalantly.

"I don't regret avoiding your massive fr-panic attack," she said as she tried to smooth over her stumble, but he caught it anyway and gave her a worn out smile.

"I can hear the word 'freak' without actually freaking out, Tasha. The humiliation is not really the word itself - it's the fact that it's on my back and I have to carry it around like a piece of lead weight holding me down," he said quietly. Natasha suddenly looked highly uncomfortable.

"Can't SHIELD…surgery…anything?" she asked awkwardly trying to state the option without sounding like a woman obsessed with looks - she really wasn't. Clint's expression suddenly darkened.

"That would mean letting people find out about it in the first place - defeating the purpose of removing it, don't you think?" he asked with a sharp bitter smile. Natasha winced - just for his benefit.

"I'm sorry…," she whispered as she hesitantly cupped his cheek while trying to convey _some_ kind of empathy. She was just copying him really because he asked her never to use her field skills on him. She knows how it felt to be branded - at least mentally. She watched his blue eyes soften as he placed his hand over hers.

"You should go take a shower - you're still covered in their blood," he said with a tired smile before he let her go and dropped back down onto his stomach. He glanced up and watched her as he a raised an eyebrow. Natasha rolled her eyes.

"You should take a nap - you look like you need it," she muttered before she got up and walked across the room to retrieve her new and only set of wearable clothes.

She glanced back at him one last time and studied the massive battlefield of scars on his back - the ones that bothered her the most were the _whipping_ scars - they looked the oldest out of all the scars he had. Even older than the words carved onto his skin. Natasha felt herself take several deep breaths; she understood why he hid his back now. Coulson was right - they were his ghosts and he was forced to carry them wherever he goes.

"Stop staring at me - I know I'm so pretty and delicious looking you could eat me, right? Go shower you dirty minded woman," he mumbled as he waved at her to go away without opening his eyes. Natasha instantly huffed as she spun around and stormed into the washroom. She made sure she _slammed_ the door shut behind her - just for kicks. Clint smiled into his pillow.

They both knew she wasn't really _that_ pissed.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

An hour after she took a long hot shower Natasha found herself standing rigidly in front of the bathroom sink brutally brushing her teeth like dental hygiene would be outlawed in less than 24 hours. She was done dealing with her partner - now she had to deal with _herself_. She felt a presence appear behind her but was too busy to care.

"Tasha…? What are you doing?" Clint asked tiredly rubbing his eyes with his hair spiked in obvious bed-hair as he appeared in the doorway behind the furiously brushing spy - she has been going at it for at least 10 minutes now.

"I kissed a dirty _asshole_ before I killed him," she muttered from around the toothbrush before she spat the mouth full water and toothpaste into the sink and started her brutal brushing all over again. Clint blinked - he was definitely more awake and alert after _that_ alarming response.

"Why did you do that for?" he asked cautiously. She shot him a dirty look.

"How the hell should I know? I was on _autopilot_!" she hissed with an utterly pissed off face. Clint took a deep breath.

"That's how you kill people on _autopilot,_ Natasha?" Clint asked slowly. Natasha's eyes hardened as she continued to brutally brush her teeth and tried to wash the taste out of her mouth.

_It's wasn't working. _

_It's wasn't working. _

_It's wasn't working. _

"No, That's how I kill people when they try to screw with my head," she said heatedly. Clint slowly shook his head - this wasn't healthy.

"Tasha, you need to stop. You're going to make your gums start bleeding," Clint said carefully placing his hand over hers to stop her frantic futile brushing. What she is trying to clean off is not physical on her. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"No. I need to get his taste out. My mouth tastes like death, blood and fear," she said darkly as her eyes filled with self-disgust.

She can't _believe_ she used to get high off that taste.

Being on the other side really put a sickening perspective on all the shit she did over the last 20 years.

"I didn't know there was a flavour for such thing," he said quietly placing a comforting hand on her back. Natasha finally got fed up and huffed.

"I can't get it _out_, Barton!" she said in frustrated voice as she threw the toothbrush into the sink. He watched her vibrate with deeply rooted concern and wariness.

"You need to calm down, Tasha," Clint said cautiously. Natasha shot him a vicious look through the mirror.

"How am I supposed to calm down when I can't even get their deaths off my skin Clint? Every time I breathe I can smell the disgusting taste of his mouth. Kissing Barnes doesn't make it better either! We failed our mission. You almost nearly died-," she started to fume but he swiftly cut her off.

Clint expertly grabbed her arm to spin her around before he roughly kissed her as he shoved her against the sink to stop her from hyperventilating any further - which instantly caught her by surprise. Natasha froze in place as he laced both their hands together and pressed their bodies together as he leaned into her. She open her mouth to irritably ask him why the _hell_ does he always try and give her a heart attack before he moved in to kiss her - but she never got to follow through with that train of thought. Because the next thing she knew he was invading her mouth with his own tongue and she was hit with a wave of something that screamed _Clint_ and a whole rush of emotions that were terrifying as they were exhilarating because it was _nothing_ like kissing a target. She never felt anything other than mild disgust while kissing a target.

The way he was kissing was dirty and possessive - but it didn't _feel_ that way. He never made her _feel_ like he was using her. He was rough but she knew he didn't necessarily like it rough - he was kissing her like that because _she_ liked it like that. She knew deep down he wanted to be soft and kiss her chastely, but with their lifestyle she just can't stand that type of kissing all the time. So he learned how to play off her moods and when he had to flip the switch in his head and be as aggressive as she needed. Because she needed to feel alive and strong enough that she can withstand anything life throws at them - not fragile and weak like she felt when he kissed her softly and broke down all he defenses. She needed her strong defenses right now more than ever and sometimes she felt like knocking him to the ground and hugging him or doing _whatever_ he wanted because he knew how she _worked_ and she hadn't realized until this moment how much she craved the idea that just _one_ person knew who she really was - the bad, the good and everything in-between. Just _one person_ was enough. Maybe he didn't know everything about her and her past - but he knew enough. He knew enough to know who Tasha _was_. She didn't want the whole world to know her. She wanted to stay anonymous - a mystery. She wanted to stay unknown and work in the shadows. She wanted her reputation to stand strong and the world to believe that she was the Black Widow and that she was strong, unrelenting, fierce and powerful. She wanted that image - but she didn't want to have to fake it at every moment of every day.

She played so many characters in her life and they all crowd her head and waited for her to use them. She added more and more characters with different names and different personalities and she tried desperately each time she took off the masks to make sure the person underneath was still her. But sometimes she doesn't trust herself anymore. Sometimes she felt like she was still carrying on the lies in her own head when she is supposed to be just _Natasha_ and not Jenny or Danielle or Natalie or Nancy or anyone else but _her_. But if she had Clint and _he_ knew who she was she could drop the masks and go back to him. She could grab his shoulders and shake him as she asked him _'Is this me? Is this who I really am?_' She _trusted_ Clint. He would tell her if she was real or not. He would tell her if she was Tasha or not. He would make sure she was _real_.

She didn't know if he knew - but having her hands locked in his allowed her to focus more on the intensity of his kiss, instead of wasting precious thought power half wondering where his hands were and frankly where _her_ hands were as well. She was essentially trapped against the sink due to the weight of his body with both her hands occupied which meant _he had all the control_ and she would _never_ tell him or anyone even under the threat of death but it felt _amazing_ not to have the control. In the field and every other aspect of her life she tried to control everything to the very last _meticulous_ detail - but not right now. In this moment _he_ bared the weight and responsibility of control and she was blissfully free. It freed her from the necessity to think about anything and she didn't even _know_ she craved that type of freedom.

There were still so many things about herself she didn't know. The longer she was out here in the world, the longer she stayed away from Russia and soviet-brainwashing, the longer she worked and did missions with her partner - the more she found out about this _Tasha_ - this part of her that only belonged to _her. _A part of her that wasn't created by anyone else but _her_. If nothing about her was real, if all her childhood memories were fake, like she suspected they were, then all she had left to desperately hold onto was Tasha. That was the only part of her she was _sure_ was real -and she only shared with him.

She also knew that if she _really_ tried to shove him away, he would stop - but she didn't _actually_ want to. She let him steal her breath because she _wanted_ to give it to him. Less than a minute later he pulled back anyway out of necessity and gasped as he flashed her a quick grin when he noticed how deeply flushed and breathless _she_ was - it was the most thoroughly kissed she has ever looked (_allowed_ herself to look.)

"I hope I don't taste like death," he whispered breathlessly. Natasha shook her head and stared back at him equally out of breath. Of course, he didn't taste like death - he tasted like Clint, like mint probably from his toothpaste or the gum he liked to chew on sometimes when he got bored playing the waiting game. That was what she was going to tell him - but then she took a deep breath and smelled the smoke still clinging to his skin.

"No. You taste like…fire?" she whispered in slight confusion, before her breathing rate spiked all over again. Clint froze.

"Don't throw up again," he pleaded. Natasha rapidly shook her head.

"Too late," she said hoarsely before she sharply spun around and dry heaved into the sink. Clint sighed tiredly and pulled her hair back again as she leaned over the edge of the sink.

"Is this going to keep happening?" he asked quietly rubbing circles in her back again like he did on the roadside - she didn't know how or why but it helped calm her. Natasha finally stopped choking on her own breath and answered him.

"Just don't mention…_it_. I'm not ready to build up my walls up against that trigger right now," she gasped as she tiredly leaned her forehead against the mirror and tried to stop the nausea from taking over again.

"Why is throwing up your trigger response?" Clint asked cautiously. Natasha closed her eyes and gripped the edge of the sink tighter.

"The bomb. The bomb I used to blow up the hospital - it was triggered by biting a piece of candy," she whispered shakily.

Clint felt a sharp coldness spread and fill his chest.

"I don't think that memory is real Natasha," Clint said carefully. _The more you talk about it, the more I think they put it there to control you._ Natasha instantly turned defensive - she knew intellectually that it was irrational because she suspected the same thing but that didn't mean it didn't _feel_ real.

"Was your hallucination about Natalie after Japan real?" she asked harshly. Clint tensed.

"It's not the same. Natalie _was_ real," he said defensively. _All those girls really did die._ Natasha finally snapped.

"Getting strapped down to a medical surgery table and having memories implanted in your brain is real too!" she exploded suddenly. He winced from the sheer volume as her angry voice echoed around them but he still soldiered through her rage.

"I'm not saying the things they did to your head is not real Natasha. I'm saying the triggers you have aren't from real _experiences_," he said carefully. Natasha suddenly spun around and glared daggers at him.

"You have a _shit_ ton of more triggers then I do, Barton. Don't pretend the military didn't horrifically screw you over in ways you still refuse to tell me. So do me a favour and _leave mine alone_," she hissed before she shoved passed him and stormed out of the washroom. Clint sighed as he turned around and followed her - where could she go really?

Women.

You can't live with them and you can't live without them.

So you find yourself stuck somewhere in a situation like this - you're standing behind her as she burned a hole into the worn out queen sized bed in the crappy hotel room while she tried to decide what to do with her anger with you.

Putting him on the tiny couch would be utterly, utterly cruel - _especially_ considering the burns on his back.

Not even Natasha was that cruel.

He wondered what she would do anyway.

"That's your side. This is my side," she suddenly said coldly before she literally _threw_ herself down onto the shitty bed and proceeded to ignore him. Clint slowly sat down on the other side of the bed and rubbed his hands over his face in exhaustion.

It's like fighting a _war_ with her every day.

But he was a soldier - he was built to fight in wars.

He carefully laid down on his side because his back was a mess and stared at the stiffness in her body as she faced away from him. He watched her silently wrap her arms around her herself as tightly as she could while she stubbornly pretended he wasn't there.

He knew she was doing that because she wasn't letting _him_ do it. That made him burn with silent anger. That was _his_ job. And she wasn't letting him _do_ it.

God damn stubborn Russian women.

"_Tasha_," he whispered across the immense gap between them physically and emotionally. She freaked out and now she needed serious space. Who was he kidding? They _both_ freaked out in less in a few hours and it was like _hell on earth_ to deal with the aftershocks.

Except they were on the run and there was no such thing as space.

"Go to sleep. I'm first watch," she said steadily. No matter how much they fight or scream at each other they were still scarily brilliant partners - when someone was shooting at them.

Otherwise - there was silence.

For a long time.

3 hours later he finally couldn't stand it anymore because neither of them were sleeping and he found himself inching his way across the 2 foot gap between them. He felt like he was almost pulled by some invisible string that tied him to her that kept getting shorter and shorter until he could no longer fight the pull. He took a deep breath before he carefully snaked his arms around her waist and dragged her back against him. He felt the tension in her body that has been eating at him for the past 3 stubborn hours finally vanish as she slumped in exhaustion. He impatiently brushed her arms away from her waist and promptly locked his own around it. _You can't steal my job woman, _he thought stubbornly_._ He buried his face her freshly showered hair and sighed in quiet relief as he finally got to breathe in her natural calming scent. A few minutes later he felt her silently take one of his hands and put it under her cheek against her pillow. _That_ was how he knew he wasn't alone in this - whatever _this_ was she desperately wanted to leave undefined.

He was never alone in this complicated mess - she just preferred to hide in his shadow while he stood out in the open. An ironic reversal of their mission roles. She wanted to pretend and show the world that they were strictly professional partners and that was it - but then when she _slammed_ the door shut in the world's face she would turn around and treat him like he was water and she was dying from thirst. She would make him melt, she would show him too much of her that she never showed anyone else, but then at the same time she would beg him with her eyes not to say anything that would make it too real that they can't go back out there and pretend like nothing happened. She wanted to do all these things, she let him hold her, hug her, kiss her and be around her but then asked him to pretend it doesn't _happen._

He doesn't know if he can stand the complex games she played with his heart without even realizing it.

But she was alive. He was alive. And that was all that mattered to him for now.

She didn't say anything and he didn't say anything for now because _clearly_ talking is only repeatedly leading to setting off more landmines then they were either aware of about the other. They've both had enough freak outs between the two of them to understand that talking about triggers _doesn't_ work. They should be just acknowledged, understood, guarded like a secret the level of national security and left the _hell_ alone. Now she knew he needed to be thoroughly unconscious while she treated him and he knew not to ask questions that have no answers and that just _doing_ something is sometimes better than asking her because what she would allow out loud and what she would allow him to do silently is not the same thing.

Sometimes _not_ talking worked and kept _everyone_ calm.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Of course…trouble catches up with you eventually right? **

**Recovery chapters over! Was that really recovery? (I hope so in their own messed up way) Or just a lot of Clintasha explosions? DAMN - that was a shit load of angsty triggers. But the only way you learn about someone is by making mistakes and horrifically stumbling on things right? **

**I smell…epic chase scene of massive proportions. **

**Let's go back to action now. I think we need to leave their inner demons alone for…awhile. I think at this point talking about things is worse than ignoring them. **

**FYI - DON'T poke an assassin with a stick labelled TRUAMA TRIGGER. **

**Remember how Coulson said his back was full of ghosts? We didn't talk about all the ghosts. Someday he'll tell her about the rest. Like the whipping scars.  
**


	132. Chapter 132

**I Dare You **

**A/N: Moo. ;) **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 132**

It was 9 am and two fully awake but tired looking assassins dressed in discreet, dark winter civilian clothes were sitting at a table, pouring over the Euro-map Natasha bought the day before.

"Last night was bad," Natasha said steadily as she peered at the map. Clint nodded solemnly.

"Agreed," he muttered.

"We're not doing this sob story party again," she said warningly. Clint gave her a wary look.

_I didn't really want to share exactly. _

"Agreed," he muttered again.

"You're fucked up," she deadpanned without looking at him. _Really fucked up._

"Agre- _hey_!" Clint exclaimed in indignation as her words actually caught up to his lagging brain. Natasha threw a wad of scrunched up paper at his face that he easily evaded and allowed to fly over his shoulder.

"You're not listening to me," she said menacingly. _I'm going to hurt you if you don't start listening, you poor excuse for a soldier. _

Clint instantly sat up a bit straighter and gave her his full attention like a good little soldier (who liked his manly appendages where they were, thank you very much). Her deadly glare was more than enough incentive.

"What is our advantage?" Clint asked gruffly as he glanced at the map covered in both their chicken scratches (actually, Clint's writing was chicken scratches… his partner's was elegant handwriting). It had SHIELD posts, Red Room posts and other significant places to avoid scattered all over the paper.

They were trying to avoid _everyone,_ at that moment.

Do you know how hard it is to avoid _everyone_?

"They don't know exactly where we are right now," she said cautiously. Clint frowned.

"They'll find us eventually - no one can run forever," he said carefully. _The world is not that big. _Natasha sighed and dropped her pen on top of the map.

"We're not running forever - but we're not going to let ourselves get cornered, shot down and captured, either. I'd rather lure him out and take him down. The rest are not really a problem. The damn _problem_ is that he knows how I think. He trained me - so our best bet is not doing what I would do…" she said uncertainly.

"…And doing what I would do instead, right?" he finished calmly for her. Natasha furrowed her brow and sighed tiredly.

"Right," she said quietly. Clint _hmm_ed for a second before he spoke.

"So we're still going to Geneva then," he concluded, leaning back against his chair. He could see how much effort it took her to pass the reins over to him as she nodded slowly.

"Yes….," she drew out. "- but why _are_ we going to Geneva?" she asked cautiously. Clint suddenly flashed her a sly smirk.

"Because I have a safe house there with money; we won't have to steal, guns, emergency equipment, identification papers and there is a backup bow and quiver because, frankly Tash, I feel extremely naked without Josie or her sister who lives in Geneva all alone waiting for the day I come for her," he said while thumping a theatrical fist over his heart. Natasha crinkled her nose at his horrible taste in naming things - except her.

"Tash is new," she muttered almost as an afterthought. Clint suddenly glanced at her and grinned.

"I love your name - I can come up with several pretty nicknames," he said warmly. Natasha scoffed.

"Yeah right - some of them are just _horrible_," she grumbled while remembering his fail attempts at guessing his primary nickname for her back when he still had amnesia. Clint suddenly had a thoughtful look on his face as he dropped his cheek in his hand while his elbow rested on the table beside them and watched at her fondly. Natasha instantly grew suspicious - it was her nature.

"What?" she asked skeptically. _Why are you looking at me like that?_ He simply shrugged as he kept watching her. He grinned slightly when she started getting visibly agitated. He remembered back when she would just blank out on him when she got agitated in the past- now she lets him see so much more than a blank wall.

"_What_?" she asked heatedly. Clint chuckled but finally stopped annoying her and answered.

"You know…you should let me call you Nat. I know I called Natalia Nat - but she's not coming back. One day we'll make the enhancers permanent and she won't be able to come back. And then there'll just be you," he said softly. Natasha instantly looked guarded as she looked away.

"You know if she heard you say that she might start trying to kill you all over again," Natasha said warily. Clint winced slightly.

"I didn't…mean it like that. She's nice - but she's not you," he muttered. Natasha tightened her grip on the edge of the table and breathed.

"You know you are missing a few screws when you prefer the mean one over the likely sweeter of the two of us, right?" she said quietly. _Why would you like me better?_ Clint leaned forward and gave her a piercing look.

"She'd also end up killing you both when she hits enhancer withdrawal," he said warningly. Natasha sighed and rubbed her forehead in exhaustion.

"Coulson said he was working on making it permanent," she said quietly. Clint sighed in relief.

"That's good. That's really good. I don't want you to hit your head and suddenly wake up with blanks in your memory and a personality switch," he said seriously - _especially not when it could be life threatening if you're ever in a situation where I'm not there._

"You know how you said she was reckless and kind of crazy?" Natasha asked while watching him intently. Clint nodded gradually.

"Yeah…?" he prompted with questions lurking in his eyes. Natasha sighed.

"I'm probably worse," she murmured. A _lot_ worse if yesterday's madness was anything to go by. Clint's eyes grew solemn, but he shook his head.

"It's not entirely your fault and you know that - Barnes was playing you for that response and he used what he knew of you from your past partnership against you. Either way - think about the nickname," he said gently. Natasha suddenly looked wary.

"You call me all these things, but I'm not really…nicknames are not really my thing. You're just Clint," she said uncertainly. _Or Barton _- she added in her head._ Did he want her to reciprocate his gesture of familiarity?_ Clint gave her a weak smile and shook his head.

"That's okay. Clint is already a nickname - my full name is Clinton and I _hate_ it with a burning passion, so never call me that," he said with extreme seriousness. Natasha smiled slightly at his clear hatred for his full name.

"How about Francis?" she askedso innocently he almost did a double take at her light tone. Clint's smile immediately fell and turned into a dirty scowl.

"Woman - do you want me to explode or something? Clint is _fine_ - more than fine. It's what I _prefer_," he said insistently while giving her a significant look_. I told you months ago to call me Clint_. Natasha suddenly looked uneasy.

"I….," she started to say but then trailed off uncertainly. Clint watched her try to find the right words as he carefully grabbed her hand off the table and started tracing aimless patterns on the back of it. Natasha watched him take a deep breath and braced herself for his next words.

"You still call me Barton a lot," he said softly. _Even after all this time and everything we've been through._

She instantly winced. _You just had to bring that up, didn't you?_

"I….don't call anyone by their first names. Not really. Not during my training or talking to Red Room handlers and definitely not at SHIELD. Maybe Barnes because we worked together for several years - but that was it," she said cautiously. Clint was quiet for a moment as he absorbed her words.

"So after a few years, you'll call me Clint more often?" he asked, teasingly brushing his knuckles against her soft cheek. Natasha instantly looked away.

"If we survive a few years of this crazy partnership, Clint," she muttered cautiously.

_Translation: If we survive this mess we are currently trapped in on and off the field. _

Clint smiled with quiet hope burning in his eyes.

"I think we'll survive," he whispered honestly. There was a storm inside and outside their partnership - but they were both build to survive all harsh conditions life can throw at them.

If they can survive each other they can survive anything else right?

"Blind faith gets you nowhere," she said warningly. Clint shrugged.

"You're right, but being stubborn never hurt - look where it got us so far?" he whispered as he leaned forward and cupped her cheek in his hand.

Natasha held her breath and felt her heart practically _spasm_.

"We should leave soon," she said quickly turning her head away from him and his softer expression before he got her caught up in his emotions again. He made her feel like she was drowning in him when he showed that much.

"Right," he said with a heavy sigh as he pulled back, shut down and got to work.

Never say that agent Barton doesn't have control over his emotions too - he just not a frightened turtle terrified to come out of his shell even when the coast is clear.

They silently packed their new backpacks, checked the new guns Natasha obtained (he didn't ask for once for the sake of his sanity) and only took only what was essential to get to Geneva - which was still 2 hours away. Clint picked up one of the sunglasses off the table and smiled warmly.

"I love your brain and how it knows me so well," Clint murmured as he threw the dark sunglasses she bought over his eyes and headed towards the exit. Natasha snorted.

"Yeah, I know you have a weird sunglasses fetish, Clint," she muttered distracted as she scribbled something on a sticky note and slipped it under the desk.

"Ready to go?" Clint asked carefully holding the hotel door open and glanced back at his cautious looking partner (she was always cautious). Natasha nodded slowly as she surveyed the mess they were leaving behind in the room. She suddenly pulled out two of their original guns from her backpack and tossed them under the bed. She righted herself and then spun around the face him and his contemplative look.

"_Now_ I'm ready. Let's hit the border," she said steadily as she slipped past him and caught his hand in hers as she evenly headed down the hall without a single glance back. Clint was not as hardened though. He took one last look at all their mission equipment, ruined clothes and weapons (_everything_) that could _possibly_ be bugged by SHIELD and his eyes fell as he let her lead him away and tug him out of the motel.

They had no choice but to leave everything behind and keeping moving - because nothing mattered except keeping each other safe. Everything else they would deal with later. Everyone else came later when the danger had passed.

_I'm so sorry, Phil. _

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**SHIELD Base, New York, 5 am**

Most ground base agents worked the normal 9 to 5 shifts while a few are left on base to monitor headquarters at all times. Fewer agents come _in_ at 5 am. Even fewer remain on base until 5 am.

But there were_ some_ agents who practically lived on base.

"You should go home - it's 5 am, Coulson," agent Hill said quietly, leaning against the wall beside the handler diligently working through a mountain of paperwork while subtly glancing at his tablet screen every few minutes.

The screen was set to constantly refresh on all SHIELD Intel being gathered in France by ground agents stationed there at the moment. Coulson was good at multitasking and getting things done under pressure - but even Hill could see the stress and tiredness start to show through his stubborn calm façade.

"I won't sleep - so what's the point of sitting in an empty, cold apartment when I could sit here?" he asked steadily as he continued his paperwork. Hill narrowed her eyes and glanced down at his work.

He should get a medal - he was actually _efficiently_ getting work done after being on base for 30 hours. When Coulson worried, _more_ things got done - not less.

"You're worried," Hill said flatly. Coulson took a calm breath and kept writing.

"You're disrupting my work, agent Hill," he said as respectfully as he could manage. Hill scoffed.

"Cut the crap Coulson. I'm your _boss_ - I can disturb you all I want," she said warningly. Coulson sighed and just kept going until a careful, warm hand covered his and startled him.

Coulson doesn't get startled - ever.

Like - _ever_.

"You need to stop Phil," Maria said quietly. Coulson stared at the hand carefully placed over his and finally put him pen down.

"I think he's dead," he said in defeat. Hill removed her hand and gave him a suspicious look.

"Why? There hasn't been an official investigation launched on their failed op yet," she said steadily. He shoved his tablet over to her and brought up the CCTV footage.

"Romanoff's expression gave it away," he said tiredly. Hill watched the frightening scene he specifically cut out of the footage and her expression turned grim. Then she glanced down at the video information.

The replay count was 132. He was _torturing_ himself.

"Did authorities find their bodies yet?" she asked cautiously. Coulson shook his head - he had already checked, 7 times.

"No. Neither of them showed up in casualties yet," he said spinning his pen on the desk in front of him.

"No body - not dead," she said carefully. Coulson smiled bitterly and shook his head again.

_He worked so hard to keep that archer's ass alive - so hard. One fucked up Op and he was gone. _

"Fires can turn bodies to ashes Hill - you know that," he said softly. His hand stopped moving and dropped into his lap. Agent Hill watched her former partner stare emptily at his desk and frowned.

"What about their trackers?" she asked trying to cover all their bases. Coulson sighed.

"Barton's trackers stopped _working_ in Paris - they were destroyed. Romanoff's reached a location 3 hours outside of Paris - and then stopped moving. She is smart enough to get rid of them all," he said tiredly. He knew his agents put up with the trackers for their own benefit - but clearly the game has changed. Hill glanced at his phone sitting at the edge of his desk.

"And neither of them have called in yet," she concluded evenly. Coulson's eyes grew heavy.

"No. I don't really expect her to," he said tiredly. He knew Romanoff well enough to know that without Barton there was nothing tying her to SHIELD. She wouldn't be coming back.

"She _has_ to come back eventually," Hill said carefully. _If she doesn't we're coming after her - agents are not allowed to just disappear after a botched mission. _

"She won't. Not if he's gone," he said in defeat. Hill's lips thinned into a firm line.

She didn't like this. Not one bit.

Time for strategic intervention.

"You're useless right now. Get up - we're leaving," Hill ordered as she pushed away from the wall and firmly spun his seat around to face her dead serious expression. Coulson blinked slowly.

"What? But I have a several Ops to monitor in Kiev, Buenos Aires and-," he started to protest but she instantly cut him off with a withering glare.

"_Stop_. Just stop. I passed them onto agent Jones and told him to alert the agents to their temporary handler change. We're leaving - now. That's a direct order," she said evenly before she straightened up and gestured pointedly to the door. Coulson just stared at her.

_Was she kicking him off base? _

"Are you really suspending me from work just because -," he instantly shut up when she shoved jet keys into his hands.

"Let's go," she said steadily before she spun around and stalked out of his office. Coulson stared at the keys in his hand and glanced up at the steady second-in-commander stalking down the hall without slowing down to see if he was following (he had to - she was his _boss_).

"Woman after my own heart," he muttered under his breath as he quickly stood up and followed her towards the exit.

The only way to know what happened on Barton's failed mission and where Strike Team Delta was right now was to go to Paris and start investigating for themselves.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Roughly 2 hours later.

"How are we crossing the Swiss border without papers, exactly?" Natasha asked guardedly as she sat shotgun again while Barton did the driving (he had been very insistent and even suffered through her painful jabs at his burn wounds to make sure they weren't bad enough that he should be banned from being behind the wheel).

"You'll see - get out of the car," he said suddenly, bringing the entire ride to a sudden stop. Natasha looked around bewilderedly and stared at the empty bridge he stopped them on.

"Why here?" she asked incredulously. Clint threw her own mysterious smile back in her face, but didn't answer her question. She really _hated_ watching him copy her moves and then use them against her.

"Just get out, Tasha," he said simply as he unlocked his seat belt and climbed out of the car. Natasha muttered about _a __lunatic archers trying to get us killed_ under her breath but followed him out into the open as well.

"So, how do you usually do it before SHIELD?" he asked curiously walking over her side while swinging his backpack over his shoulders. Natasha scowled a bit, but answered nonetheless.

"I'd find a forger, pay him if I can or hold him at gunpoint if I can't and fake the paperwork to get me through border security," she said carefully. Clint nodded knowingly. _Good plan - if you weren't being hunted by expert killers._

"We're not doing that then. Barnes will be hacking their systems and scanning the passport photos of people crossing any French border. We're doing this country style," Clint said with a highly amused air about him. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"What the hell does that mean?" she asked suspiciously. She tensed when she heard the rushing noise of air and bells behind her. She instantly stared at her partner's sheepish expression and spun around.

"How much do you like cows?" Clint shouted over the roaring noise of the approaching train.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Barton?" she shouted back in utter disbelief as she stared at the moderately fast freight train about to pass under the bridge they were standing on. Clint just grinned and not so gently shoved her over towards the edge. Natasha instantly paled.

_He was going to make her jump off a god damn bridge with him (again). _

_Oh dear god. _

"Ready to jump on a livestock transport train, Tasha?" he bellowed with a big shit-eating grin plastered on his face. Natasha tried to back away but he locked his arms around her waist to keep her in place.

"_Are you insane_?" she screamed as she pushed against him.

"Yes I am!" he laughed in her ear before he promptly let her go and jumped. He braced himself for the hit and instantly rolled himself on impact. He waited two seconds and then heard the relieving sound of another body hitting the train roof a few feet away from him. He glanced down to see his partner viciously glaring at him.

"I _hate_ you Barton - you're an asshole," Natasha gasped as she held onto the roof of the cow train car. Clint scoffed - _she wasn't the one with a bruise the size of Manhattan on her back. _

"Yeah, yeah, hate you too, princess - let's go," he muttered as he gingerly pushed himself off the metal roof and rubbed his shoulder as he glanced around before he inched towards the edge of the speeding freight car.

"Go, _where_?" she asked with dreaded realization. Clint smirked slowly. Natasha stared at him.

_Did she really just follow him blindly into his fucked up plan? _

"To become one with the creatures that feed off the land, oh beautiful Russian aristocrat," he said slyly.

Natasha was going to _strangle_ him (again).

"_No_," Natasha spat as she promptly backed away from him. Clint merely glanced over her shoulder.

"Duck," he said warily while he pointed to the branch that was speedily approaching and about to knock them off their feet. She instantly glanced over her shoulder to see the incoming branch and they both fell flat on their stomachs and hit the metal roof at the same time. Natasha's head instantly shot up and she glared at him.

"I _hate_ you," she growled with malice. Clint just flashed her a cheery grin.

"Come on, Tasha, live a little...," he said encouragingly. Natasha's eyes flashed.

"You are _not_ getting me down there! I don't care if border security catches us!" she growled viciously. Clint glanced over her shoulder once more and then shrugged.

"Well alright - we're about to hit the border in 10 minutes anyway. I'll bust you out of prison as your birthday present - whenever that is," he said casually as he slid backwards across the roof.

Natasha just gaped at him as he disappeared over the edge.

_5 minutes later. _

"MOOOOOOOOO!" a distinctly large overbearing beast's sound echoed around the crowded space inside the train cart.

"We're sitting with _cows_," Natasha muttered as she clutched her knees to her chest and sat as close to corner of train as she could manage - nearly plastered to the wall. She reached out to grab him by the collar of his coat and dragged him right up next to her to block her direct contact with the rest of the train's occupants.

"Ah, the life of a grand spy - you can just _smell_ the rich wine and decor," he said sarcastically.

"Just stay _right_ there!" she hissed back as she made herself smaller - nearly hiding behind his much larger frame. Clint stared at her uncharacteristic girliness. The woman can face armies, blood, guts, getting fatally shot, tortured, almost being blown up and stare death in the face without fear.

But heaven forbid you lock the Widow in a train full of cows….

"What am I? Your cow spit shield?" he muttered in her ear. Natasha refused to acknowledge him and just made herself _even_ smaller (he doesn't know how she managed that).

"MOOOOOOO!" one of the cows boomed.

"Thank you Betsie. Glad you agree," Clint grumbled while patting the nervous cow on the side.

"MOOOOOOO!" another cow boomed right in front of the two runaway assassins.

"Stay _away_ from me," Natasha hissed threateningly to the curious looking livestock bending its fat, black and white head to stare at her.

She angrily stared back. She would not be out-stared by a _cow_.

It licked her.

"That's it! Let me shoot it!" Natasha demanded as she whipped out her gun and instantly got tackled by her partner.

"Stay strong, Tasha!" Clint snickered as he grabbed the gun out of her hands before she shot some poor innocent cows into Swiss cheese.

" Я убью вас всех! _(I will kill you all!)"_ she shouted in outrage with murder in her eyes. Clint winced and crowded her into the corner to save the frightened cows.

When the Russian assassin started spewing in her native tongue you know she meant serious bloody massacre.

We've already had enough of those.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Haha that was a fun chapter :D I know I promised a chase scene and I wrote it :D It's coming don't worry :)**

**BTW - When does school start for you guys? I start classes on August 13h - am I the only one who starts that early? **

**Also….did you like my cows? I like my cows. Tasha didn't like my cows but that's okay. :P **


	133. Chapter 133

**I Dare You **

**A/N: Glad you guys liked the funny chapter! But don't expect any more. Things are about to get insanely intense. **

**Have fun! **

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**Paris, 1 day after failed mission **

Two shadowy figures were crouched on a high rise building 2 blocks away from the bloody crime scene in an Parisian alley not far from the Eiffel Tower. The site was swarming with police officers and crime scene investigators as they assessed the mass murder of 11 currently unidentified Russian men.

"We're going to have a difficult time cleaning that up," Coulson said quietly as he lowered his binoculars. Hill huffed slightly from beside him as she did the same.

"Figuratively and literally," Hill muttered back. Coulson tightly gripped the edge of the roof and took a steady breath.

"Is logistics and the emergency response department going to fix this before it leads back to us?" he asked carefully. Hill slowly turned to give him a solid piercing look.

"It won't lead back to us. They already suspect Danielle Bonaire as the murderer for all 11 hit counts," Hill said steadily. _And we're going to keep it that_ _way_, was left unsaid. Coulson sighed.

No one said SHIELD was a squeaky clean organization.

"What are we going to do with her?" he asked quietly. Hill frowned as she stared holes into the concrete in front of her.

"Fury is probably interrogating her right now. If she passes we'll put her in witness protection. If she fails to meet his rather unusual expectations - she's going to straight to prison. She's work for French crime groups long enough that there are at least 60 innocent people's death that were indirectly her fault. She worked with assassins before. She used to give them their Intel and the information about their targets all over Europe. She doesn't pull the trigger, but she is _not_ just a pretty face. She is a smart woman who ended up in a bad place and she did whatever she had to do to stay alive," Hill said as she assessed this former target as fairly as she could. Coulson gave her a cautious sidelong look.

"You can't fault someone for wanting to stay alive," he said warily. Hill's expression darkened.

"So what do you say to the families of the people who died in the ruthless quest to save one's self over everyone else?" she shot back guardedly. Coulson stiffened.

"Is that really the question here?" he asked tiredly. Hill narrowed her eyes and shook her head.

"The real question is if the Council will pardon Romanoff," she muttered. Coulson took a sharp breath.

"Bonaire was her target. She should be dead anyway. Ruining her life would mean nothing if Romanoff actually carried through with her assignment," Coulson said tightly. Hill finally turned away from the edge of the roof and carefully watched her former partner stand there with a defiant air about him.

Sometimes she can see the small ways that agent Barton's personality rubbed off on his handler. If she was _really_ honest, she would say his personality rubbed off on _everyone_ around him. Which meant his partner and his handler got hit the most by his fiercely opinionated and rebellious attitude.

"You're still defending her," she said with a hint of warning in her tone_. It's dangerous to defend someone who is in so much trouble._ Coulson curled his hands into fists and his usually calm eyes were filled with determination.

"If Barton got caught in the crossfire between whatever the Red Room wanted with her - she was reasonably compromised," he said carefully. Hill held his piercing stare for a long time before she finally looked away.

"I don't know how long I can continue to look the other way if things like this keep happening," she said quietly. Coulson narrowed his eyes.

"None of this is happening because they are compromised, Hill. It's happening because we stole a high profile asset away from illegal underground soviet-organization and instead of our agent killing her, she decided she liked us better than them. The Russians didn't take that kindly and now they're trying to either kill her or take her back," he said edgily. Hill narrowed her eyes.

"How do you know she didn't go back to them if you think Barton is dead?" she asked carefully while playing the devil's advocate. _Who do you think killed Barton?_ Coulson held her accusing gaze and steadily pointed to the scene behind her.

"I highly doubt this is a response of a double agent, Hill," he said evenly. _You don't kill your own people if you were still loyal to them_. _You're not full of grief if you willing killed your partner either._ Hill finally sighed heavily and shook her head.

"No, Coulson. This is the response of someone who is no completely sane," she said damningly. _She could have accidentally killed her partner in her insanity._ Coulson tensed.

Hill was _so_ much smarter than people gave her credit for. That is why she was second in command.

"Name one person who is completely sane in our organization, Hill. Just _one_ person," Coulson said challengingly with storms raging in his eyes. He's seen too many agents die in the field to be completely unaffected by their deaths. Hill has seen more than him and knew more than him due to her high position - but she knew what he is talking about right now. You don't work in this field unless your life was somehow irreparably broken.

Agent Hill remained silent.

Coulson continued talking because there were some things he always wanted to say to her.

"A young American field agent with visionary dreams once told me everyone deserves second chances. That's why she went on to become a high ranking officer - so that she can enforce those ideals that she had in her. She wanted to do things other people are too afraid or weak to do. She dedicated her entire life to make sure SHIELD doesn't become like the Red Room - an organization that was meant to protect their country but fell into the wrong hands and got morphed into a monster with no face. I believed in her. I told her to go change the world. Don't tell me she got swept away by the bureaucracy that suffocates her every day," he said warningly. Hill exhaled slowly as she held his fierce gaze.

"She didn't - that's why they're still partners," she said quietly turning away from him. Coulson's wind instantly blew out of his sails and his eyes grew solemn.

"And yet that's also why we're not," he whispered sadly. _We can't be them._ Hill tightly grabbed the edge of the wall running along the roof and stared at the countless couples walking on the Parisian streets below them.

"I'm not sorry, Phil," Maria said quietly. _I'm not sorry I chose my job over everything else._

"I know," he said understandingly as he calmly stood beside her. If standing beside her was all he was ever allowed to do - he'd take it.

To be a good leader you have to follow all your own rules - even if the people working under you do not.

Otherwise, what kind of leader are you?

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**Geneva, 1 day after failed mission **

3 _hours_ after hitchhiking on a cow train car, Natasha was finally, blissfully _free_.

And Clint Barton wasn't roadkill under her boot - hallelujah.

"We _stink_," Natasha muttered irritably - still highly pissed at him and seething like an injured cat. Clint snorted - she was just mad that she had to stoop low enough to hitchhike with cows to get out of the country.

There was no spy dignity when hitchhiking with farm animals.

"Shut up, it's not that bad. I got us across the border and into Geneva without complications didn't I?" he muttered as he dragged her through the city while making sure to watch their back as they weaved through the street crowds. It was freezing cold and almost December, and yet people were still haunting the streets at midday.

"Where is your safe house exactly?" she asked guardedly as the tension buzzed in her body. Clint squeezed her hand reassuringly and the cold icy wind blew in their faces.

"Close by here," he promised. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"You have no keys. Are we breaking into your place?" she asked cautiously._ If we can break into your place other people can as well._ Clint snorted and shook his head.

"Hand-scanner," he muttered as he pulled her down a less heavily populated end of the neighbourhood and searched the tall apartments along the more residential road. Natasha blinked.

"Fancy," she mumbled mildly taken aback. Their apartment in New York was well protected - but not incredibly high tech. Clint paused as he considered her tone, but then kept moving.

"You're going to eat me alive for letting us live in a shit hole in the wall back home in New York," he said warily as he led her around the back of a tall white building about 4 stories high that looked incredibly well managed.

"You own an apartment here?" she doubtfully. Clint opened his mouth and then winced.

"I…yes and no," he said uneasily. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"What does _that_ mean, Barton?" she asked warningly. Clint winced at her painful grip on his hand.

"I own…the building?" he said hesitantly.

_Silence. _

"Barton - I'm going to kill you before Coulson does," she said menacingly. Clint flashed her a _quick don't hurt me you know I'm already injured _grin.

"Kill me later," he said quickly as he slammed his hand down on top of the scanner and hoped that if she didn't kill him yet for the cow incident she would spare him for a bit longer.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

After they took the stairs up to the 4th and final floor, Clint used another scanner to open the door into his safe house apartment and Natasha was…._shock_ was not a strong enough word.

"Your apartment…is really _nice_," she said cautiously and slightly stunned as she followed him into his large and modern-looking living space. He had wood flooring, large glass windows and black sofas - basically a really nice bachelor pad. For as long as she's known him he really wasn't a materialistic type of guy. That still seemed to hold true when he barely even looked around. Instead Clint nodded distractedly.

"Yeah, I know. I used to do a lot of sniping ops in Central Europe. Geneva was in a nice central location between lots of my SHIELD assignments," he mumbled as he threw their backpacks onto the floor by the door and started making a beeline down the hall with a determined look on his face.

"Where are you going?" she asked cautiously. Clint didn't even spare her a glance.

"Gotta find something," he said distractedly over his shoulder before he quickly disappeared down the hall. Natasha stood there with a blank look on her face.

_Archers_.

And you people wonder why she got jealous.

"You do that," she deadpanned before she promptly turned in the opposite direction and went to raid his bachelor kitchen.

She found as much as she expected.

"You have a lot of nice wood floor but you have no _food_ Barton!" Natasha shouted down the hall as she stared into his empty fridge - except for some really nasty moldy cheese.

"Then go _get_ food! Sheesh, I haven't been here in over a year and a half - leave me alone woman," he muttered as he crouched down on the floor in his closet and started moving boxes around.

He felt her appear behind him no less than 10 seconds later - only because she wanted him to notice. Neither of them wanted to startle the other when they were both on edge right now.

"Where _is_ 'food' exactly around here, Barton? I'm not a GPS system - I don't know Geneva like you should," she said letting only a small portion of her impatience bleed through her words. Clint sighed.

"There is a grocery store 2 blocks down from here," he said vaguely as he pushed the carpet back and revealed a hidden door underneath. Natasha stared at the door and then stared at the back of her partner's head.

_Damn_. She thought. _Just damn. _

She watched him throw open the hidden door and pull out a large metal suitcase from the flooring in his closet. He felt around the edges and keyed in a pass code. The case beeped before it sprung open to reveal exactly what she'd had expected - a military grade collapsible bow.

The sheer happiness and _relief_ plastered on his face should be labelled creepy and illegal.

"Most people put gold and cash in massive sketchy suitcases like that," she said wryly. Clint huffed indignantly.

"Bow's worth more than that," he grumbled as he took out his favourite weapon and started assembling it.

"Does she have name too?" Natasha asked warily. Clint narrowed his eyes but kept working with fast and efficient motions like he has done this a million times (he has).

"Are you mocking me?" he asked slowly as he put his assembled bow down and searched through the rest of his archery junk. Natasha sighed and leaned against the wall of his surprisingly neat closet.

"Yes. No? I don't really know, Clint," she muttered honestly. Clint didn't even look at her because he was so absorbed with his work.

Talk about obsession.

"Her name's Maggie. Not my favourite and not as good as Josie - but she came in handy a lot," he said quietly as he sat on his knees and staring at his backup bow with a faraway look on his face that spoke of times in the past spent utterly alone in this apartment for probably weeks at a time. She almost forgot he was a solo agent until a year ago.

_Almost_. His odd habits every now that then would remind her. She suddenly felt like she was intruding on one of his private rituals or something and felt incredibly out of place.

"Market's down the street you said?" she asked glancing at the door like it was her only escape. Clint nodded faintly.

"Yeah," he said quietly as he fished out his quiver and started loading specialized arrows into it. Natasha sighed heavily.

Talk about losing him - she just lost his _entire_ attention to an inanimate weapon.

"I have to pickpocket for cash again," she muttered to herself as she turned to leave. Best leave him here and let him sort out his thoughts and re-familiarize himself with another bow that clearly held memories that were clouding his head.

"No, you don't. There is a safe down the hall in the wall behind a vent. Just tug on it and it should come off. The pass code is 763479," he said simply as he rolled an arrow between his fingers.

She paused. So he _is_ actually listening to her.

"You and your arrows, Barton," she muttered irritably anyway. Clint scoffed.

"Shut up - you don't see me whining when you religiously clean your guns," he shot back. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"Guns are-" he shot her a warning look. She instantly thought better of challenging him on which was the better weapon. "Whatever - I'm leaving," she muttered as she spun around to storm out of his closet. She rounded the corner and found the vent he mentioned. Just like he said the vent came off and she found a rather large safe sitting on the other side. She keyed in his pass code and waited for the door to beep and swing open.

And then she sat there in shock.

"What the _hell?_" she whispered clearly stunned.

At the rate things were going she was pretty sure he had even more money than her.

"How much was freelance sniping, exactly?" she asked under her breath as she combed through the wads of cash - there was at least several million in here. He clearly didn't do normal priced assassinations. She had estimated…wrong.

"Sometimes they ranged from half a million to over 2 million, depending on how badly they wanted me to kill the high profile mark," a solemn voice said from behind her.

"Clint…this is insane," Natasha said instantly dropping the money onto the floor. It was his blood money.

"I know," he said gravely.

"Why is it just _sitting_ here?" she asked as she fell onto the backs of her legs and just stared at his safe.

"I didn't want it," he said quietly. Natasha shook her head.

"You freelanced for only a _year_?" she asked carefully.

"I was really good," he whispered. _And jobs came fast when you build a reputation. _Natasha suddenly took a deep breath and then she took a couple more before something she read in a newspaper echoed in her ears.

"There was Ukrainian politician's daughter back in 1997. She was always heavily guarded because her father was being targeted for assassination himself, due to his radical views and desire to bring back communism to the country after it fell in 1991. She never left their villa just outside of Vienna. There were always guards following her around and the compound was heavily armed against attack. No one could get in. And yet she died from a bullet in her chest while she was playing in the garden," Natasha recollected from years ago. She watched him slide down the wall and collapse onto the floor beside her. There was a haunted expression on his face and regret burning deep within his eyes.

She knows who shot the politician's daughter.

"What do you want me to _say,_ Natasha?" he asked desperately trying to keep his breathing under control. Natasha quickly placed her hand against his face to calm him.

"Nothing. I just wanted to know," she said quietly as she stoked his cheek and felt him slightly tremble underneath her fingertips. He suddenly laughed darkly and she waited for the self-loathing words to come.

"You are the _only_ one in the entire world who would want to know something morbid and disgraceful like that without wanting to throw me in jail," he said bitterly. Natasha shook her head and continued to try and be there for him.

"I heard about you a long time ago, while I was still mostly working in Russia. You were just some gifted American sniper and archer then appeared and disappeared just as fast. I think I was 16 or 17 when you were active," she said quietly. Clint sighed heavily and leaned his head back against the wall in front of her.

"I'm glad I didn't meet you then, Tasha. I was a mess at 19," he said tiredly. _We would have instantly killed each other. _There was suddenly too much unsaid emotion hanging in the air and she didn't know what to do.

"I think…I'll go get us some food," Natasha said warily putting a wad of cash in her pocket and bracing a hand against the wall above his head to stand up. She walked towards the door and grabbed the doorknob. She needed to take a walk to get some distance between them and process what he told her. She paused when she felt a firm hand grab her waist to stop her in place. She felt him brush her hair to the side and waited for what he would say.

"You're not the only one with an unpleasant past, Natasha. I keep telling you that, but you never quite believe me," he said quietly in her ear. Natasha sighed before she spun around to face him and placed her hand on his chest.

"I believe you, Clint. Trust me I _believe_ you," she said sincerely even as she stared at his shoulder instead of his eyes. _You're just a lot more like me than I thought. _

"But you're leaving to walk it off," he concluded skilfully as he ran his hand up and down her back. Natasha sighed and shook her head.

"No. You told me about your ledger before remember? I just need air," she said softly. _And time to work out the similarities between us._ Clint narrowed his eyes.

"What if I said I don't believe you?" he said carefully tightening his hold on her waist. Natasha finally glanced up and held his stormy gaze that searched her eyes for lies. She stared back without any judgement at all and vowed to treat him exactly how she always did because he always gave her the courtesy of never changing his attitude towards her no more what she told him she did.

"Then I would say I'm a hypocrite if I ever judged your ledger when mine is so much worse," she said honestly. _I've done so much worse to so many more people_. Clint sighed and shook his head.

"You were brainwashed from childhood. I wasn't. I did all of those things on my own after escaping the military," he muttered bitterly. _That makes me more of a monster then you_. Natasha gave him a sharp look.

"Escaped? Isn't it called discharged?" she asked guardedly.

Clint suddenly let go of her waist and braced his palms on either side of her head to trap her in place. Natasha let him crowd her against the back of the door - if she wanted she could still easily disarm him, especially considering the fact that he was still heavily injured.

He just wanted her to hear him out before she left to go do her thinking - he could see the urge to tediously pick everything he said apart burning in her eyes.

"Do you really think the U.S. army would let a sniper of my skill just _walk away,_ Natasha?" he asked seriously. Natasha narrowed her eyes as she felt his steady breath against her face.

"If he was traumatized and suffering from PTSD, they would be obligated to discharge him," she said steadily. Clint curled his hands into tight fists against the door and shook his head, but he didn't move away from her.

"You've read my entire SHIELD file," he said evenly while staring at her with an intensity that gave away how serious this was to him. Natasha held her ground and stared back.

"Yes," she steadily. Clint took a deep breath.

"Have you ever looked me up on the U.S. Civilians records?" he asked carefully watching her eyes and seeing slight confusion flash across her sharp gaze.

"No. Why would I? You wouldn't be in the system anyway would you?" Natasha asked carefully. Clint chuckled lowly as he shook his head and leaned into her.

"I'm dead," he whispered in her ear.

Natasha tensed but he continued talking.

"I faked my own death in Bosnia. My name is on the military casualty list. They didn't find a body - but it was a war - they didn't expect to find everyone. I quit through the only way they would allow, because _Tasha_, do you think they would discharge me with my skill? Do you think I could just walk away after showing them what I could _do_?" he asked before he angrily punched the wall beside her head. She inhaled a sharp breath as she felt the air rush past her face.

"No," she said quietly as she finally realized what he was saying. _They would kill you before they let a sniper of your skill resign at such a young age and possibly be used against them. _Clint watched her rapidly connect all the dots in her head and gently brushed her hair out of her face and placed two fingers against her neck to feel her steady pulse.

"Do you still trust me now?" he asked seriously with questions burning in his eyes. Natasha gave him a sharp look.

"Do you trust _me_?" she shot back breathing a little heavier than usual. _He's telling her way too much - it's dangerous._ Clint eyes flooded with emotions too fast for her to label as he grabbed her face and just held her there.

"I'll keep trusting you until you give me a reason not to, Tasha. I _want_ to trust you. That's why I'm here," he said earnestly brushing his thumb against her cheek. Natasha's eyes steeled.

"Then it doesn't matter what you did before or if you faked your death to get out of that hellhole. You're still alive right now even if SHIELD and the rest of the world thinks you're dead. _I_ know you're not dead. That means something right? _Right_?" she asked heatedly as she roughly grabbed him by the front of _his_ shirt and shook him with more force than she appeared to possess.

"It means something - as long as you stick around to remind me that I'm not dead, Tasha," he said carefully as she held him by the collar of his shirt. Natasha narrowed her eyes. _They can't keep doing this._

"I'm not going anywhere. You have to stop thinking I'm going to ditch you, Clint. I won't - not unless I have a damn good reason. If you trust me you're going to step back and let me walk out this door and get us food because neither of us has eaten anything in the last 18 hours," she said steadily. _Which is clearly messing with both our heads right now._ Clint searched her eyes one last time before he made his decision.

"Whistle once if something is wrong on your end. Whistle twice if we're both busted," he said quietly removing her death grip on his shirt and stepping back from her.

"I can take care of myself," she said warningly as her arms dropped to her sides. Clint sighed.

"I know that - at least do it for my sanity, Tasha," he muttered. Natasha yanked the door open behind her and glared at him.

"You're a god damn _hypocrite_, Barton - I hope you know that," she said dangerously before she _slammed_ the door in his face and stalked away. He winced when he heard the door leading to the stairwell slam 10 seconds later as well.

Oh, she was heavily pissed.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Overprotective, pushy, jealous, outrageous, _asshole_!" Natasha seethed under her breath as she stormed down the street with her hands stuffed in her pockets and the hood of the coat she was wearing covering her head as she ranted and searched for edible substance at the same time.

"Go make out with your bow. See if I care. In fact, see if your goddamn Maggie kisses you back, you piece of metal-obsessed jerk!" she growled as she rounded a corner and glared at anyone who looked twice at her raging figure. A couple of kids racing down the street knocked into her as they passed and she had to grit her teeth from snapping at them. It was midday but it was cloudy and grey skies. The ice cold weather matched her foul mood and neither seemed like they were going to let up anytime soon.

"If I was going to leave you, I would have left ages ago. You're insanely injured, you're a pain in my ass and you continuously scare the shit out of me. There is something called _over sharing_," she muttered under her breath as she passed several pastry shops, but was looking for something with more solid food that would actually have nutrients in them. She suddenly stopped in front of a bakery and glanced through the window at their interesting odd Swiss selection of breads. She paused as she took a second look at the glass and saw the reflection of several large men in trench coats walking on the other side of the street as they scanned the thin crowds moving around them. She quickly straightened her back and kept walking while keeping an eye on the 3 men, who looked incredibly out of place in the severely pedestrian and native location of the city. When they looked across the street and locked eyes with her, she started walking faster.

There's no way they knew they're in Geneva - there was no goddamn way.

And then something in her pocket started ringing.

Natasha narrowed her eyes as she kept walking evenly through the crowd on the market street and slowly pulled out a slim, silver phone that wasn't hers. She glanced down and she stopped breathing.

The caller ID on the screen said _'Pick up, Natasha'_.

Natasha had the strong urge to smash the phone onto the ground and start running. Instead she placed the phone to her ear and slipped a hidden knife from her sleeve into her hand.

"Did you have a nice little road trip across France with your partner?" a familiar voice said in her ear. Her eyes steeled as she kept scanning the people on the street around her as she walked further and further away from her partner's safe house.

"Where the hell are you, Barnes?" she asked steadily. _So that I can come shove this knife down your throat._

"Not important. Ask the _right_ questions Natasha," he said warningly. Natasha clenched her hand around her knife and instantly tensed as anger started coursing through her body.

"You have no fucking idea how badly I'm going to kill you when I find you," she said threateningly with danger flashing in her eyes.

"And you have no idea how pissed Petrovich is," he said darkly. Natasha narrowed her eyes as she rounded another corner and kept an eye on the men following her on the other side of the street.

"Let him be pissed. One day someone is going to get tired of his pissing and stab his eyes out," she said menacingly.

"Is that what you want? A death wish?" he asked steadily.

"I want you all fucking _dead_ and off my ass," she said angrily. She heard him scoff at the other end of the line.

"You don't always get what you want," he said warningly. Natasha instantly started scanning the rooftops when she was sure he wasn't on the ground.

"Get the fuck off whatever roof you are hiding on and let me slit your throat," she growled with murderous intent. Barnes laughed darkly.

"Are you so sure you'd win?" he challenged. Natasha gritted her teeth - she knew he wasn't coming down while she ready to slaughter him.

"_Coward_," she sneered.

"Names aren't going to rile me up, Natasha. I'm not a child, like your _partner_," he spat. Natasha's eyes hardened.

"He's not a child. If he was a child you would have managed to _actually_ kill him in Paris," she hissed. _And if you did, you would already be dead right now because I would have ruthlessly hunted your ass down and shot you until there was nothing left. _

"I almost did - he's a little burnt around the edges, isn't he?" he whispered knowingly. Natasha tightened her grip on the phone.

"Why are you playing this game when you know how it always ends?" she asked dangerously.

"_You_ started the game, Natasha," he said angrily. Natasha nearly crushed the cell phone in her deadly grasp as her own suppressed rage burned through her tense body.

_I didn't ask for any of this. All I ever wanted was to be left alone. _

She narrowed her eyes as she steeled her resolve. If he wanted a game she was going to give him one hell of a game - with only one possible outcome.

"You're going to die. Petrovich is going to die. Every single bastard you send after me is going to die, and then I'm going to blow all your _motherfucking_ bodies to the sky," she hissed with sinister promise echoing in her icy cold voice before she smashed the phone to pieces against the wall as she turned another corner and started sprinting, shoving through the crowds of Geneva as she backtracked the way she came.

_They're never getting either of them alive - she'd shoot them both before she let them get taken in alive. _

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

_Something filled up  
my heart with nothing,  
someone told me not to cry._

_**But now that I'm older,  
my heart's colder,  
and I can see that it's a lie.  
**__  
Children wake up,  
hold your mistake up,  
before they turn the summer into dust._

_**The children don't grow up,  
our bodies get bigger, but our hearts get torn up.  
We're just a million little gods causing rain storms, turning every good thing to rust.**_

_**I guess we'll just have to adjust.**_

_Wake up - Arcade Fire  
_

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

**A/N: That is one of my favourite songs. ****You should listen to it on youtube if you wanted to know 'the soundtrack' I used when I wrote this chapter. **

**This storm is about to turn into a massive tornado that is going to completely sweep Clintasha away. **

**Barnes vs. Barton or Barnes vs. Romanoff? Which do you prefer? **

**Would someone even win that type of fight? :P **

**Either way I hope you're excited for the story to start intensely exploding :) **


	134. Chapter 134

**I Dare You **

**A/N: Let the action begin! **

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**Chapter 134**

One step forward two steps back.

A war on and off the battlefield.

A death wish by association.

Countless arguments that are full of lies, denials and half-truths.

Countless explosions that destroy everything around them but leave the other standing.

Countless walk outs.

Countless kisses.

Countless nights spend cold and alone.

Countless nights together wrapped in embraces that are never acknowledged.

Countless shit missions.

Countless fights that will never hurt as much as _not_ fighting would.

Countless silences that are full of words left unsaid.

No _one_ word can do justice to what makes this bizarre bond tying a hawk and a spider together hold firm. Two species that were never mean to even acknowledge the existence of the other, let alone find common ground and try to co-exist.

And yet they did.

And they were a _disaster_.

But maybe they were a beautiful disaster. Maybe they were both broken and haunted when alone. Maybe they both carried scars that you can and _cannot_ see. Maybe they hid a heavy past full of deep unhealing wounds. Maybe their time together was limited. Maybe what they had together was asking for trouble and will one day kill them both. Maybe together they aren't any more perfect then they were alone.

But maybe at the end of the day, something imperfectly perfect was _enough_.

Natasha took a deep breath as she raced down the street and startled several old ladies huddled together on the sidewalk as she ducked under their arms and expertly weaved through the middle of their tight circle; like a boneless snake with sharp poisonous fangs kept hidden until the right moment to strike. The ladies all bristled as she barely spared them a glance and flew around the corner. Not even 10 seconds later they nearly got ran over by her pursing mob of large, imposing Russian men.

"Why, I never!" one of the stuck up ladies huffed indignantly.

Natasha glanced over her shoulder and locked eyes with the men in trench coats that had just rounded the corner behind her. She nearly growled in frustration. She was getting _tired_ of running away- but if she didn't get to him before they did she'd be left feeling something heavy settle in her stomach that was a whole lot worse than exhaustion.

_How does it feel to be truly compromised, Natasha? _

She grabbed another wall and curved herself around the corner, nearly barrelling into a bunch of garbage cans in the middle of the alley. She promptly knocked them all to the ground on purpose to slow done her pursuers while she continued to cut across the narrow streets between buildings.

"Natalia stop trying to fight this and we won't hurt you!" one of them called out from behind her as they shoved passed the fallen metal cans.

Natasha nearly fell over laughing in disturbing hysterics as she kept running a hell of a lot faster than them.

Them hurt _her_?

Well weren't they a couple of arrogant fools.

"That's not my name you pack of deluded hyenas," she said darkly under her breath. She finally caught sight of the white building she was looking for and purposely slowed down for her poor, slow, little followers. She spun around to face them and watched them slow down as well with their guns raised to her face. She calmly walked backwards and they narrowed their eyes.

"You're cornered and all alone , Widow - give it up or we'll be forced to end you," one of the Russians said warningly. Natasha plastered herself against the side of the apartment building with a calm expression on her face. She breathed deeply from her intense running and just smiled creepily at them.

"I'm never alone," she whispered right before she put her fingers in her mouth and whistled with all she was worth. The next thing they all knew there were 3 arrows sticking out of each of their chests - dead center (to the left) where their hearts were.

_WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!_

All three Russians dropped to their knees as they gasped in shock at the sudden attack. One of the bulkier Russians shakily raised his gun at her in a pathetic last stance but another perfectly aimed arrow promptly stabbed him in the eyes and caused him to go down screaming in pain.

Natasha snorted at their pathetic whining - what she would have done to them would have been _so_ much more painful than his arrows. She considered a swift death by an arrow a _mercy_.

"My idea of help from above is a sniper," she said smugly with a sadistic smirk pulling at the edge of her lips.

"_Or_ an archer," a highly annoyed voice snapped from above her head. Her smirk instantly fell and a scowl took its place.

"Or an archer," she relented with a heavy sigh - he really liked to ruin her moments didn't he?

Before she could back away from the wall and turn around to address her annoying but helpful partner who was likely standing on his balcony Natasha caught sight of a dark blur of motion curve around the corner she was standing on - right before she was tackled to the ground.

She inhaled sharply as she was unexpectedly hit with a wave of force and rolled with the unknown assailant down the street. She couldn't see a thing due to how fast they were moving but when she felt the person shift their weight she only had a moment to pull out her own knife and block the incoming blade.

_CLASH_!

Natasha gritted her teeth as she ended up on her back and stared up at the unexpected face behind the enemy knife.

"_Belova_?" Natasha said sharply as she forced the knife in her face back as blond strands of hair escaped the younger Russian assassin's ponytail and hanged above her face. Yelena gave her a tight dark tinted smile.

"Hello Romanoff - nice to see each other again isn't it?" Yelena asked sarcastically. Natasha rapidly studied her appearance and noted all the softness and youth in her face was gone. She looked _years_ older than she did several months ago in Italy.

"If you're here, Barnes is not far," Natasha said darkly scanning the rooftops across the street. _He would never leave you alone this soon after being enhanced_. Yelena narrowed her eyes and pulled out a second knife and aimed to swiftly stab her in the eye but Natasha easily caught her wrist and stopped the blade a centimeter from her eyeball. Yelena gritted her teeth in frustration at her attack being thawed instantly.

"Forget about Barnes - if I can take you down I will finally be _respected_ among the other operatives," Yelena said determinedly. Natasha just stared at her.

_Does Belova even know what level of dangerous she is? _

"You're delusional if you think that _you_ of all people is going to take me down kid," Natasha said warningly. _I can break you in half with just one hand. _Yelena instantly bristled at the demeaning name.

"Don't call me _kid_!" she growled as she angrily pulled back and rolled off the older and way more experienced Russian assassin who managed to locate every knife on the girl's body with one calculative scan before Yelena threw a single one.

But experience comes with a heavy price.

Natasha instantly jumped to her feet and easily blocked every knife the younger assassin threw at her and redirected them with a simply flick of her wrist.

"You're decent Belova - but you are nowhere _near_ the best. Why did Barnes send you? Does he want to watch me kill his newest student? Did you annoy him _that_ much during training Belova?" Natasha asked tauntingly. Yelena's eyes flashed as she curled her hands into fists and shook with rage she still didn't know how to control yet.

Without control she is going to get shot down _so_ fast by someone actually determinedly out to kill her.

"_Shut up!_ Just shut up!" Yelena shouted as she shot forward to attack with a sharp kick to Natasha's stomach with her combat boot. Natasha narrowed her eyes and barely blocked the fast attack with her hand before she yanked her forward and in a move faster than even Belova could move. Yelena's only been enhanced for a couple of weeks - Natasha has been enhanced for a couple of _years_. In the next breath Natasha was behind her with a death grip on the Blonde's arm.

"You're fast - but you're _sloppy_," Natasha said evenly in her ear before she sharply brought her elbow down on Yelena's arm and broke her joint clear in half.

Yelena's resulting scream was muffled when she brutally bit down on her tongue as she fell to her knees and felt her left arm hang limp and broken beside her. She instantly threw one last knife at the redhead with her good hand, but Natasha easily caught it between her two fingers before she threw it into the wall beside her.

"Are you done yet?" Natasha asked carefully. Yelena spat a mouth full of blood onto the ground before she pulled out her gun and _shot_ at her.

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

Natasha promptly ducked away from her wide unfocused shot before she stepped on the girl's hand and kicked the gun away from her. Yelena grimaced but kept glaring at her. _Clearly_ the blond was asking for death.

The real Widow would _gladly_ give it to her.

Natasha instantly grabbed Yelena by the hair and yanked the _pain in her ass_ wannabe Widow off the ground and threw her into the wall behind her.

_THUMP!_

Yelena gritted her teeth as she slid down the wall as the redhead looming above her stared at her with cold calculative killer eyes.

"My partner didn't kill you in Italy and I didn't go after your ass to save another Russian girl from being doomed to our fate - but now I'm going to kill you," Natasha said darkly while she wrapped one firm and steady hand around the gasping girl's throat and instantly silenced her as the pressure on her throat stopped any sound from escaping her annoying mouth.

Just when she was sure her death grip was becoming unbearable an arrow sharply scraped across her cheek and instantly stabbed Belova through her right shoulder - effectively pinning her to the wall. Natasha felt the blood from the long scratch on her cheek drip down her face as she stared at the arrow sticking out of the Blond Russian's shoulder. Her eyes scanned the length of the slim metal rod and noticed a little note attached to the end of the arrow.

_'Don't kill, Tasha. Ask questions.'_

Natasha stared at the note for a full 5 seconds before she made her decision.

"Sometimes I really hate you ruining my day, Barton," Natasha muttered before she promptly let go of the blue faced Widow's throat and watched her gasp as she inhaled air into her oxygen deprived lungs. _I really wanted to kill this stupid little bitch_. Natasha barely let her take one deep breath before she crowded her breathing space and tightly grabbed the front of her dark coat splattered with blood.

"_Where _is Barnes?" Natasha demanded as she shook the younger Widow pinned to the wall by her partner's piercing arrow. Yelena bared her teeth at her.

"_Fuck_ you bitch," she hissed before she promptly _spat_ a mouth full of blood in her face. Natasha dangerously narrowed her eyes as the red liquid slid down her cheek before she promptly backhanded the girl across the face harder enough to cut her lip open and force her head to bash into the wall.

_SMACK!_

"Where _is_ he, Belova?" Natasha growled in her face with rage blazing in her green eyes. Yelena threw her head back against the wall and laughed hysterically as the blood dripped down her broken nose.

"I hope you struggle so that he is forced to _kill_ you instead of drag your stupid ass back to base," Yelena said sinisterly. Natasha's eyes flashed and the next thing she knew there was a sharp knife stabbing the young Russian in the stomach. Natasha braced her hand on the wall beside the pale blonde's head and leaned into her.

"Just because you are enhanced and can't die from a simple knife wound doesn't mean it doesn't _hurt_," Natasha whispered dangerously in her ear._ I've wanted to stab you since Italy when you had your hands all over my partner and threw his offer back in his face. _

Yelena gasped as Natasha turned the blade and shoved the knife deeper into her stomach.

"You should have ran when Barton and I spared you in Italy. You should have ran and never looked back. You still had time - now you are out of time. Now that you are enhanced you can never go back to the Yelena you were in Italy. _That_ Yelena is gone. Now you are a different person. They would never tell you but _I'm_ telling you now, Yelena - if you try to go off the enhancers now - _you'll die_," Natasha hissed in her ear. She felt the young girl freeze as all the blood drained from her face.

Natasha shook her head - it was too late for regrets now.

"Your life is over. If you ever want out now - you'll end up being hunted down just like _me_," Natasha said darkly before she stepped back to fully look at the heavily breathing Russian girl pinned to the wall by a single arrow. She watched some clarity flash in her clouded empty eyes before the storm of grey took over again. Natasha clenched her jaw - she knows what the Red Room programming feels like beating against what you think are your _own_ thoughts in your head. It kept swirling and swirling in your mind until you don't know what is the programmed thinking pattern and what is really _you_.

It took her _years_ to fight it herself and it took an army of SHIELD scientists to get rid of it completely.

"You're a _traitor_! You betrayed our country! I'll never be like you!" Yelena shouted with bright frightened eyes betraying her robotic sounding words. Natasha made a disgusted noise as her eyes hardened.

"I didn't betray our country Belova - our _entire_ organization betrayed our country. We are sent out to kill _good_ Russian people as well as bad! How is that protecting our country when we kill the very people we were meant to protect? What does the Red Room try to protect but their own selfish desire for power and influence in our country? The soviet era is over! They are trying to hold onto a shattered child's dream. The world is changing Yelena. Russia is _changing_. There is no space left for the dying soviet movement _or_ the Red Room!" Natasha said damningly. Yelena fiercely shook her head.

"You're wrong! Soviet Russia was the best thing that ever happened to our people!" Yelena bellowed. Natasha's eyes flashed in hatred towards the people who kept doing this to strong Russian girls across the country.

"That's the programming talking Belova. Think for _yourself_! Take a moment to ignore the shit that is rolling around in your brainwashed head and look around! Our people starved on the streets! There was never enough food for everyone! Little girls got sold to whore houses just for _bread_! You know this Belova! You _know_ this!" Natasha shouted as she angrily punched the wall beside the Russian girl's head.

"You're a _liar_!" Yelena screamed before she grabbed her head as painful sparks stabbed her brain from the inside. Natasha sharply narrowed her eyes.

"I _am_ a liar - but you better believe I'm not lying to you right now," she said warningly.

_BANG! BANG! BANG! _

Natasha instantly dived for the ground and rolled as bullets flew over her head. She looked up and found 5 more Russian men firing at her from across the street. She blinked and before she could strike and tackle every single one of the men to the ground, 5 arrows stabbed them in the chest and they instantly dropped to the floor like flies. Natasha felt some of the tension ease in her chest. She's not in this alone. She has someone watching her back. Natasha quickly stood up and rounded on Belova's steadily bleeding body still pinned to the wall.

"If you stay with them Belova - the next time we meet I'm going to kill you. I don't spare ungrateful little _brats_ a third time," Natasha said warningly. Yelena gritted her teeth and glared daggers at her.

"I'll be stronger next time. Next time I will kill you Natasha Romanoff. Я убью тебя голыми руками. (I _will kill you with my bare hands)_," Yelena hissed as she angrily tugged at the arrow in her shoulder and breathed through her anger and piercing pain. Natasha shook her head solemnly. She could kill her with a mere snap of her neck - but that was too easy. 16 is too young to die.

Instead Natasha stepped back and silently watched the younger Widow struggle and hiss at her like an injured, stray cat. Blond hair flashed red in her eyes and the heart she didn't know she had ached slightly for the girl in front of her.

"Grow up, Yelena - or this is all your world is ever going to be," Natasha said quietly gesturing to the dead Russian bodies littering the street, dark red blood from the arrows stabbed through their hearts staining the perfect white snow and bullets buried in the walls around them.

What a sad world this was. Who would want to live forever in a world like this? What was the point of living if this was all you had to live for?

Yelena finally stopped struggling as her eyes started to drop as she began to fade into the world of unconsciousness due to the blood loss.

"There _is_ no other world...," she said drowsily as she slipped away. Natasha slowly shook her head.

"You're wrong," she said quietly. _An archer proved us all wrong._

_BANG! BANG! BANG! _

Natasha gracefully sidestepped the bullets aimed to injure and not kill and let them fly past her face through her long flowing red hair before they got buried into the wall beside the unconscious blond girl pinned to the wall. She promptly raised her own gun and fired back 3 clear shots and a second later heard 3 bodies instantly hit the snow. She tightened her grip on her gun because she was sure there were a small army of hit men waiting for her around the corner - more likely to tire her out and force her to use up her bullets then _actually_ manage to take her down and subdue her.

No one would even come close to being able to manage that except Barnes himself.

Where was that little metal tinted bastard anyway?

_VROOM! VROOM!_

Natasha glanced in the opposite direction of the street and caught sight of her partner tearing through the snow on a motorcycle with his bow and quiver both slung across his chest- and he wasn't slowing down either. She wondered what the _hell_ he was doing for a second, until she caught sight of the 8 black SUV cars chasing him on his heels.

_Well shit, he just had to go and make things worse. _

"Jump on!" Clint shouted as he tightened his grip on the motorcycle handles. Natasha just stared at his windswept face as he got closer.

"You have so much _shit_ to explain when we get back to New York," Natasha muttered angrily before she roughly grabbed onto his coat and threw herself onto the back of his bike before he sharply slid across the tar road and curved around another corner barely missing a round of bullet fire by a hair's width.

"Where the _hell_ did you get that type of party in less than 20 seconds Barton?" Natasha shouted in his ear as she looked over her shoulder and saw the cars zoom around the corner hot on their tail.

"I didn't _ask_ to be tailed by a god damn mob, Natasha! They were all waiting around the corner when I busted out of my garage," he said heatedly. Natasha narrowed her eyes as she whipped out her gun and shot 2 of the drivers in the forehead through the window shield forcing them to crash into each other before she heard the telltale _click_.

"Fucking _empty_," she growled as she shoved the useless gun into her pocket before she quickly felt around his waist for his backup gun that should be hidden tucked into the back of his waistband.

"Feeling me up are you, Romanoff?" Clint drawled as she unceremoniously tugged his coat and shirt up and found his gun right where she knew it would be. She ignored his dirty taunting, but leaned forward anyway.

"The scratch wasn't by accident," Natasha said evenly in his ear as she reset his gun and clicked the safety off. She felt his entire body got deceptively still as his breathing evened out - just like when he was about to make a critical shot.

"How do you know? I was aiming for her shoulder and you two were standing far too close after all," Clint said reasonably calm. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"You _never_ fire or hit anything on accident," she said steadily. Clint's mouth twitched before he finally relented.

"You were going deep into your head again. Had to remind you to be more Tasha then Widow. Ruthlessness is _not_ attractive - no matter how annoying and murderous she was being," Clint said warningly. Natasha simply scoffed before she looked over her shoulder and started firing all over again.

_BANG! BANG! BANG! _

They both ducked at the return fire before Clint got them in front of a large truck to momentarily shield them.

"So you agree she was being a stuck up annoying little _brat_," she said tightly. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"And _you_ were getting dangerously close to the edge," he shot back accusingly. Natasha stiffened and instantly looked away.

"I was fine," she muttered. Clint sighed and shook his head. _No you weren't._

"I don't even _know_ what fine is anymore, Natasha," Clint said tiredly_. I really, really don't know what we're doing anymore._

They both gritted their teeth and tensed as bullets started flying over their heads all over again. He felt her unexpectedly freeze against his back.

"What's wrong?" he asked hastily.

"They're still shooting at us and I'm nearly out of _bullets,_ Barton!" Natasha growled in his ear. _She was nowhere near long distance firing material_. Clint gritted his teeth and curved the around another corner to get them onto another street.

"Switch with me!" he shouted over his shoulder before he promptly took her hand tightly gripping his coat and wrapped it around the gears before he ducked under her shooting arm and made a fancy maneuver around her body as she kept the bike in motion. She promptly slid up to the front of the bike to take control while she felt him slide his bow off his chest and quickly move backwards to get them back to back. He clenched his teeth as he braced his boots against the sides of the bike to keep him in place as Natasha took a sharp turn down another snowy Genevian street. He took a deep breath as he drew arrow back on his bowstring and fired several consecutive shots at the cars tailing them.

One of Russians gave him the finger when his arrow missed his head and stabbed the bastard in the passenger seat instead.

Clint's face darkened.

"Kiss my arrows' ass you little Russian bastards," he said darkly before he promptly slammed his glove covered thumb against a button on his bow and watched 3 cars full of Russians simultaneously explode as his partner drove them out of the direct line of fire.

_BOOM._

_Who said bullets were better than arrows? _

"Did you just _blow them all up_?" Natasha asked in disbelief as she glanced over her shoulder to see the massive fireball of destruction rising to the sky that momentarily halted the rest of the Russians behind them.

"I took a leaf from your impatient Widow book," Clint said simply with shrug as he lowered his bow and carefully scanned the streets for anymore tails. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"And yet you didn't let me kill Belova," Natasha said irritably and she tightened her grip on the bike handles. Clint's expression grew serious as he carefully maneuvered himself around to properly anchor himself to the bike.

"You know Belova is different, Tasha," Clint said carefully in her ear. _She is the only brainwashed Red Room assassin here._ Natasha silently scoffed.

"Whatever," she muttered. She knew he was right to stop her - she just didn't want to acknowledge it. Clint opened his mouth to scold her evasive attitude when he caught sight of a group of black cars appear on another street to their left. He stared at them - they got around the burning cars faster than he expected.

"…_and_ they're back," he said with a groan. Natasha gave him a sharp look.

"Then just blow them up again or slow them _down_, Barton!" she hissed. Clint suddenly chuckled smugly.

"See? You like my arrows _now_, don't you, Tasha?" he said haughtily as he nudged her with his shoulder. Natasha clenched her jaw and refused to acknowledge his _arrogant_ posturing.

"Just _shoot_ Barton or I am going to throw you off this bike," Natasha said threateningly. Clint rolled his eyes as he raised his bow and fired several normal arrows to slow down their tails. He could rub his pride in her face later - if there _was_ a later.

"I am shooting, but I'm going to run out of arrows if we don't lose these bastards _soon_," Clint said warningly. Natasha scoffed.

"What is this - _a joyride_? Aren't you shooting their wheels down Barton? How many more _are_ there?" she asked angrily. She felt Clint huff as he felt highly insulted. _What did she think he was doing?_

"They kind of keep _multiplying_, Tasha," he said defensively.

She heard several more bullets fire and she was forced to yank the bike to the side to avoid getting hit, when suddenly a worrying grunt echoed in her ears. She froze as the bike jerked abruptly back and forth.

_Oh hell no. _

"Barton? Barton? _Clint_! Are you okay?" Natasha asked tightly as she slammed her foot on the gas and sped up to avoid any more bullets. Clint muttered something unintelligible as he slumped against her back. Natasha felt something warm soak through the side of her coat and she felt a cold feeling rush through her veins.

"You got _shot_?" she shouted in outrage. Clint winced at the sheer volume of her voice ringing in his ears.

"It's not exactly on _purpose_!" he hissed as he heavily leaned against her back and breathed harshly against her shoulder.

_BANG! BANG! BANG! _

More bullets kept flying past their faces and Natasha really thought this might just be one of the _worst_ days in their partnership.

"Shit! Shit! _Shit_!" she cursed under her breath as she curved her head back to try and see what happened. She was instantly forced to glance back towards the front when she saw them rapidly approach two buses side by side. She inhaled a quick breath and sharply slid them right between the center of both buses before they smashed into either of them.

For 10 seconds they were covered on all sides from all bullet fire.

"Where did you get shot?" she demanded sharply as she listened to his laboured breathing.

_Silence_.

Her heart nearly stopped beating.

Why does he never answer the questions that _matter_?

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: And the chase continues next chapter! They're almost out of ammunition, Barton is shot, Natasha is exhausted, Red Room knows where they are and they aren't even out of Geneva yet!**

**Doesn't look good :O Tasha's poor Hawk (he just keeps getting injured during this trip: stabbed, burned and now shot).**

**Of course you're all just wondering when the hell is Barnes - but there is a method to his madness you know. This entire show is being orchestrated by him after all. **

**P.S.**** I'm going to Boston for 3 days (family vacation)…so I shall update if I have hotel internet…or I shall update on Tuesday when I come back home.**

**Don't kill me O.O - byez!**

**Review and I shall update as soon as i can!**


	135. Chapter 135

**I Dare You **

**A/N: O.M.G - family vacations are horrible. **

**Next time I'm going on vacation BY MYSELF! **

**God - why do married people fight like rabid dogs? And their children are forced to just sit here in a confined space and watch the ping pong match of flying monkeys of mass destruction and hope we don't get used as ammo when they run out of the god damn exploding monkeys! **

**You wonder where I get all the clintasha insults and verbal spat material from...**

**Well my day officially sucked like hell. We did nothing. Let's see how much crap I'm going to put clintasha through while I sat through a bunch of family feuding in a car and wrote this :P**

**Ah domestic life (it gets ugly - like a pair of assassins at each other's throats).**

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**Chapter 135 **

"Clint! Clint! You have to fucking _talk_ to me!" Natasha said tightly as she kept the bike as steady as she possibly could to prevent further injury while she tried to get him to respond.

But they were being chased by ruthless men from her past - she didn't have the _luxury_ of staying still no matter how damaged he was.

His painful ragged breathing was driving her crazy and she finally felt herself snap in frustration because she couldn't help him if he didn't tell her what was _wrong_.

"Oh my god, Barton so help me I will _kill_ you myself if you don't fucking start talking _right now_!" she growled as she roughly _kicked_ him in the shin and heard him hiss in pain as he slumped heavier against her back before he _finally_ answered.

"In the _arm._ God damn it calm _down,_ Tasha," he finally spat as the jostling from the instability of the bike caused him to drop his head onto her shoulder as the intense pain shot up and down his injured arm.

Natasha visibly sighed in relief. Forearm wounds they could manage. She could fix forearm wounds. Anything worse than that and they would have been done for.

"Was that so hard?" she asked irritably as she sped past the two buses they were positioned between and glanced over both their shoulders to see that they were several cars ahead of the rest of their tails. Clint gritted his teeth and continued to breathe harsh and ragged against her neck.

"_Yes_ it was hard! You try talking while trying to fight off the involuntary shock that your body goes through when you get hit with a fucking _bullet_!" Clint spat heatedly as he felt blood from his wound roll down his arm and soak into both their coats.

Natasha winced at the sharpness in his voice. She forgot that normal people responded differently than her when they got shot. Her reaction to non-fatal bullets was altered chemically in her brain a long time ago. Red Room made sure their assets felt no shock lag in their reflexes when shot. Sometimes she wished she wasn't enhanced because whatever 'normal' was didn't apply to her and she never felt like a fucked up experiment more than these times when it was brutally obvious how her partner was not the same.

"I'm sorry," she muttered unexpectedly. She instantly felt the burst of anger drain from his body as he got stunned by her rare apology.

Maybe she should apologize more often if it diffused his anger _that_ fast.

"S'okay…," he mumbled before she heard the sound of clothing being tarred through behind her. She felt him shift against her back as he warped a piece of his ruined shirt around the wound in his forearm. He tightened it to add pressure and slow the bleeding until they could deal with it later.

She hoped there was a later.

"Can you still shoot?" Natasha asked suddenly cautious. Clint tried flexing his arm and flinched as an agonizing expression flashed across his face before he quickly shook his head. He swiftly hooked Maggie and his quiver over his back and gingerly wrapped his good arm around her waist to keep himself steady as she sharply curved off the major road and zoomed through the smaller side streets of Geneva at illegal speeds.

"Not with that arm. I can't manage the weight of the bowstring pull with a direct injury. I could with my right one though. But we're still screwed because I was almost out of arrows anyway," he muttered against the back of her ear as he silently worked to gain control back on his irregular breathing pattern. Natasha tensed. _I never realized it was this hard to think for two people._

It used to be so much easier to be selfish and just care about herself.

If she didn't personally care about _him_ beyond the professional agent and partner titles she might have left him behind a long time ago.

If he was anyone else but _him_ she would have done a lot of things differently. She'd stop this stupid annoying chase and turn around to take them all down in flames or _die_ trying. She hated running away. She'd rather end things now then drag them out and wait until the last second before getting shot down.

But then the sound of his _finally_ steady controlled breathing filled her ears and his warm breath brushed over her skin and she knew why she didn't stop driving and searching for the safest way out of the city.

She'd never attempt a potential suicide move with him caught in the crossfire. Never.

Nothing was worth that risk.

"Can you steer with your injured arm? Should we switch?" she asked evenly as she made sure to keep them moving as fast and smoothly as possible on a motorcycle. They both tensed as they hit a sharp bum and felt the bike jerk sideways before she quickly got control of it and pulled it back into a proper position. Clint took a deep breath to steel himself against the pain of being jerked around before he answered.

"That depends - do you even have any bullets left?" he asked gruffly as he felt around her inner thigh under her long coat and found her back up gun in her holster. Natasha gritted her teeth.

"I think there are only 4 or 5 left on that one," she said while trying to hold back a growl of frustration. They were rapidly running out of ammunition. She felt the cold anger flood her body as she tightened her grip on the gears almost enough to nearly break them in half. He suddenly squeezed her waist and pressed his forehead against the side of her head.

"It's okay. Try to get us out of city before the bastards catch up," he said quietly in her ear while he tried projecting as much calm through the thick layers of their winter coats as he could manage. Natasha took a deep breath and then exhaled the anger out before she sharply shook her head.

"That won't work - I think they are following us on satellite trackers," she said tightly. She felt him huff against the back of her neck and held back an eye roll because she didn't have time to be annoyed at his childish antics while she was busy trying to keep them alive.

"Is _that_ how they found us so fast?" he asked irritably while shifting behind her to carefully tuck his injured arm between the two of them. Natasha narrowed her eyes but held still as he scooted up closer to her to shield his injury from another attack.

"We need to stay under the radar and off major streets after this - otherwise they will keep finding us," she said warningly. Clint scoffed - _as if he didn't know that._

"Yeah, yeah. Ruthless Russians are fucking intentional stalkers that want to kill us all. I get it," he grumbled touchily. Her eyes flashed before she viciously _jabbed_ him in the ribs with her elbow. Clint silently gasped in her ear and nearly collapsed against her all over again.

"_Ugh_! Tasha - you _know_ I didn't mean it like that," he wheezed as he slammed his eyes shut to get his breath back into his lungs. Natasha clenched her jaw and gripped the bike handles tighter.

"_Think_ before you open your god damn mouth, Barton," she hissed as she whipped her head back to the front to make sure they didn't crash into anything. Clint sighed against her shoulder and shook his head.

"You're _so_ lucky I like you so much, because _this_ is what people consider an abusive relationship you know," he muttered as he tightly gripped the front of her coat with his good hand. Natasha breathed steadily through her nose as she _slammed_ her foot against the gas in frustration.

"I'm _not_ relationship material," she snapped angrily. _I'll never be what normal men want their women to be like._ Clint laughed breathlessly against her shoulder and shook his head lightly.

"Oh yeah? Then why am I still here, Tasha?" he asked calmly while his lips brushed against the side of her neck. Natasha gritted her teeth and desperately tried to ignore how his warm breath caressing her cold skin made her feel.

No one accused Clint Barton of being normal.

"_Focus_ and keep watch on our tail, Barton," she ordered before she abruptly ended that uncomfortable conversation. Clint sighed tiredly and glanced over his shoulder and scanned the streets for any pursuers. He faltered in his response when he saw…_none_.

_What the hell? _

"I don't see any of them behind us - you think we're clear?" he asked guardedly with a subtle hint of hope in his voice. He felt her tense against his front and confusion flashed across his mind.

"No….," she said carefully before she promptly hit the brakes and started slowing down. Clint furrowed his brow as he instantly glanced back to their front and froze.

They both stared at the black SUVs closing in on them from all 3 sides of the intersection they were about to cross and he tensed as well.

"We…are so _screwed_," Clint whispered forebodingly in her ear. Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"_Fuck_ this," she hissed before she promptly yanked the bike off the road and onto the sidewalk causing several pedestrians to shriek in panic as she drove straight though a newspaper stall. She sharply turned a corner and drove them right off the edge of a 20 step stone staircase leading down to a lower street.

Clint paled ghostly white.

"You're _insane_!" he shouted in her ear as they were airborne for a full 3 seconds before they roughly hit the pavement at the base of the stairs. She tightened her death grip on the bike while he tightly squeezed _her_ as the bike screeched while the wheels locked and the bike slid in a circle across the cement. For a split second he thought they were going to get thrown right off the bike right before she _finally_ managed to gain control back and zoomed past the frightened people plastering themselves against the shop windows. The icy cold wind whipped past both their faces as she sharply cut off sidewalk and got them back onto another smaller road. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw several men jump out of their cars and start shouting at each other in obvious angry rough Russian. He saw them gesture angrily in their direction before he lost sight of them as his partner curved them around another street corner.

"_Crazy_," he muttered under his breath. Natasha tensed.

"I thought you knew that, Barton?" she said tightly with tension coiling in her body faster than he could blink. Clint took a careful breath before he tightened his grip around her waist.

"That's not the _point_," he mumbled against her shoulder.

"I don't think you _have_ a point," she said carefully. Clint shook his head. She didn't understand.

"Crazy is good. Crazy keeps us _alive_," he said reassuringly. _I never said I didn't like crazy._ He felt her consider his words before the extra non-immediate-danger related tension finally eased out of her body.

"I don't know how long crazy is going to keep managing that, Clint," she said with a tired sigh as she weaved through the Geneva traffic and kept an eye out for their tails.

"Where is Barnes?" Clint asked carefully. Natasha inhaled a sharp breath before she told him her suspicions.

"He's stalling," she said evenly. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"For what?" he asked tightly. He felt her speed up and sharply curve them down another street towards the major highway that is going to take them across the river and out of the city.

"That son of bitch is waiting until I ditch you or you ditch me," Natasha said angrily. She felt him instantly tense before he tighten his grip around her waist and firmly plastered himself against her back as she kept driving the bike at a speed that was going to get them arrested if the cops caught wind of their movements.

"That's not going to happen," Clint said fiercely holding onto her to keep his balance on the bike and to feel her solid frame pressed against his chest and know that she was here not somewhere far away.

She _really_ doesn't understand his irrational need to continuously physically reaffirm that she was still here.

"I don't think he thought we'd stick together for this long. I think he honestly believed I would cut and run the second they came after me," she said carefully phrasing her words in a deliberate attempt to get a rise and waited for his reaction.

Unfortunately he proved her annoying insecure theory about him right.

"See? I'm not the only one who was just waiting for you to ditch me," Clint muttered bitterly. Natasha clenched her jaw and would have punched him in the face if she wasn't busy trying to save their ass and get them out of here.

_Why do all the men in the world think she is something unattainable that they can't hold onto no matter how hard they try? _

"Don't make me shoot you in the other arm, Barton," Natasha said warningly. Clint suddenly laughed darkly against her ear.

"I nearly _begged_ you to shoot me in Colombia and gave you a hundred opportunities to shoot me since then - and you never took the shot. So forgive me for calling your bluff, Tasha," he said carefully. Natasha narrowed her eyes as she kept them moving as fast as she could without toppling the bike over.

"And yet after all this fucking _shit_ we've been though together, are you seriously telling me you think I don't know what it means that you're here with me instead of running in the other direction _yourself_? Did you think that I'm not waiting for you to get your fucking head on straight and get the hell away from me and the god damn death sentence hanging over my head? Did you ever think about _that,_ Clint? About how _I_ feel in this mess?" she demanded harshly. Clint felt stunned by her words, but he still stubbornly held onto his original thoughts.

"But I'm dragging you down. I keep getting hurt," Clint said irritably looking away as they zoomed across a long road leading them onto an empty highway over a river. Natasha's eyes hardened - he was wrong.

"Barton, if you were anyone else you'd already _be_ dead instead of just beat up," she said heatedly. Clint clenched his jaw and she felt him angrily buried his face in her hair and bit back a scream of frustration.

"I _hate_ this! I hate being so weak!" Clint growled. Natasha felt his harsh breath in her hair and she sharply shook her head.

Hell, if he was weak she would have killed him months ago and got the hell out of this mess they created together that was becoming way to comfortable and like a constant for her.

"Trust me - I've met hundreds of weak men all over the world and you aren't it. Just because you are not strictly a hand to hand combat fighter doesn't mean you're weak. I'd take a partner with brains over muscle any day. You've saved my ass more times in the last year then Barnes did in three," she said steadily. She wasn't even exaggerating. It was the honest truth - Natasha never butters her words when she gives him the cold hard truth.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing that your ass needed more saving during our partnership then when you were partnered with him?" Clint asked trying not to sound spiteful when he mentioned that bastard that was screwing both their lives over.

_Why can't the world just leave us alone? _

"I don't know - but we're about to cross over the river so hold on," she said carefully speeding up as they drove up the highway curving over a wide river.

Clint rapidly scanned the center of the highway bridge and paled as his military trained eyes caught something running along the edge of the arching road.

Oh shit they didn't have time to slow down.

"Let go of bike, Natasha!" he shouted in her ear as he vigorously yanked at her waist and nearly threw her entire balance off. Natasha cursed as she lost her grip on the handles due to his sudden movements.

"What the fuck, Barton?" she growled as the entire motorcycle curved to the side. He didn't have time to explain and just insistently tried to get her to listen to him.

"Just let _go_!" he yelled right before the center of highway exploded into a cloud of rock, tar, ash and dust. Natasha finally let go in shock and he instantly dragged her off the bike as they approached the 5 meter gap in the center of the road high above the rushing river beneath it. They both hit the ground in whirlwind of limbs and slid across to road with the bike on its side surrounded by the ash clouded air as the ground started to cave in underneath them.

"_Fuck_!" Clint yelled in pain as he rolled onto his injured arm. He felt his boot get caught on the back of the bike that was rapidly sliding down the slanting road and suddenly it was dragging an injured archer with it. Clint and Natasha locked eyes together for 1 tense second before he promptly got pulled over the edge of the gap.

Natasha was about to have a heart attack.

Why can't she _ever_ keep track of her partner?

"_Clint_!" she shouted as she shot forward over the edge and quickly grabbed onto his hand before he fell with all the debris breaking off and falling through the sky around them. Clint gritted his teeth and held back a painful cry because she was holding up his entire weight by his injured arm. If she was _anyone_ else, if she wasn't enhanced, if she wasn't so fast - she would never have been able to hold his weight. They both held their breath as they watched the motorcycle crash into the side of one of the large cylindrical cement beams holding up the rest of the undamaged highway, before it disappeared into the water far below.

They both tensed when the ground under Natasha started to give and she slowly began sliding forward as he hung lower and lower off the edge of the broken road. Natasha clenched her jaw as she tried to anchor herself against the falling apart road and lift him up over the edge - but he was just too heavy. He was a compact soldier that weighed a _shit_ ton of pounds. She could only do so much as this angle.

They both knew her death grip wasn't going to last much longer.

"Let _go,_ Natasha! Or we're both going to fall!" Clint wheezed as he winced from the sheer amount of pain tearing through his arm as she continued to hold him up as he hung over the edge - both of them just barely holding onto the other. Natasha shot him the _nastiest_ scowl that had ever graced her sweaty strained Russian face.

"No, you _dumbass_! Don't try and be some selfless martyr - it doesn't look good on your scruffy rugged _face_!" she growled as she tightened her grip on his hand and used her other hand to reach down and grab onto his arm, even if it made him cry out in agony it gave her a better grip on him.

"I thought you _liked_ scruffy, Tasha?" Clint said with a painful laugh that made her heart ache as even more large chunks of tar and cement broke off the road and fell through the air beside them. Natasha took a sharp breath as she felt her knees start to bleed as they scraped against the rubble covering the destroyed highway.

"I'll shove scruffy up your _ass_ if you don't hold on!" she threatened as she braced her foot on the ground and tried to yank him up closer to the edge. Clint winced as several rocks fell off the broken road and crashed into his face. He took a deep ragged breath before he dared to look up and saw her dirt and dust covered face staring down at him with anger, annoyance and anxiety all mixed together into one perfect picture of _Tasha_.

She was still so beautiful.

"I'll hold you to that, Tasha," he said softly as he started losing the feeling in his arm. Natasha froze as his grip on her hand started to go slack.

"_Don't you dare let go, Clint_!" she bellowed at the top of her lungs.

_Click_.

A cool metal object was suddenly shoved into the back of her head and that made both agents freeze.

"Pull him up," a foreboding and familiar voice said with the gun leveled to her head. Natasha tensed as she felt Clint suddenly tighten his grip on her hand. The hawk saw a deep resignation flood his spider's eyes and he gritted his teeth.

"_Natasha_…," Clint said warningly. Natasha took a deep breath and flashed him a weak smile like she wasn't being held at gunpoint by her ex-partner, like the only man she ever truly learned to trust wasn't hanging off a broken highway hundreds of feet above shallow waters, like they were all alone and it is was just them saving the other's ass on a normal mission - just like during the past few months, which have been the best months of her life. _He_ was the best thing that ever happened to her.

But all good things have to come to an end.

_'I'm not sorry, Clint,'_ she mouthed to him silently before she loosened her grip on his hand and _let him go._

Clint's heart froze at he felt himself start to fall.

"_Natasha_!" Clint shouted as he slipped through her fingers and fell away from the destroyed highway - before she got him killed along with her.

"_Shit_!" Barnes shouted angrily from behind her as he redirected his aim to the falling archer. He fired aimlessly into the ash clouded darkness but hit nothing because he couldn't see a thing through the dust. He furiously shoved the gun again against the back of her head but Natasha did nothing except lie there on the broken highway edge as she waited for him to take the shot.

She heard no gunfire and felt no pain.

"What are you waiting for?" Natasha asked steadily as she watched her partner disappear into the darkness below. They'd never find him by the time they got down there.

Barnes narrowed his eyes - he just lost the SHIELD archer.

But she hadn't jumped after him either.

"Why don't you keep running with your partner, Natasha?" Barnes asked her tensely. Natasha's expression darkened.

She was sick of running.

"I can take you all down," she said calmly as she heard a loud splash of something hitting the water far below and she finally relaxed.

If he wasn't here to get caught in the crossfire she didn't have to worry anymore. She never cared for herself anyway.

"And I can throw a grenade that won't miss," he said threateningly. Natasha laughed darkly - she could catch a bluff _that_ big from a mile away.

He wasn't the only one who knew how his ex-partner worked.

"But you won't," she said simply. Barnes' eyes flashed dangerously.

"Why is that?" he demanded furiously.

Natasha swiftly pulled out her own gun and pointed it to her head. She felt him instantly stiffened behind her.

"The only way you get me alive, is if _he_ stays alive," she said steadily holding the gun still without turning around. She trusted her reaction time to be faster than his. Barnes might have been her teacher but she was a prodigy.

The tension in his body proved that he knew that she had the edge.

"And what if I just shoot you with a taser? Then I can go down there and shoot him," he said carefully. Natasha shrugged nonchalantly.

"I'm skilled enough to kill myself well before the taser took full effect," she said daring him to test her - she knew he won't.

"You shouldn't trust us to play fair you know," he said warningly. Natasha chuckled darkly.

"I don't trust you or _anyone_ from the Red Room. But I trust him to already be far away before you can shoot him," she said firmly. She was _lying_ through her teeth because she _knew_ that the second Barton resurfaced he was going to curse her name and her maker and then he was going to try and get right back up here.

_But __he was in no condition to fight anyone and they both knew that. _

"_Bullshit_. He'll come looking for you," Barnes said warningly. Natasha's eyes steeled as she subtly braced her palm against the road. _It's because of you I had to drop him in the first place. _

"Then I better make sure you're dead," she said menacingly before she promptly flipped herself over and shot him several times in the chest.

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

James gritted his teeth as he stumbled back due to the rapid fire impact of her bullets. Then in a blur of movement faster than he could see Natasha's boot sharply made contact with the side of his face and knocked him to the ground.

_BAM_!

James winced on impact but grabbed her arm as he fell backwards forcing her to roll across the rubble covered road with him.

"I'm going to fucking _kill_ you!" she growled in his face as she ended up on top before she angrily swung her arm back and aimed her steel like fist to break his jaw. Barnes quickly threw up his metal arm to block her killer fist before he roughly grabbed her wrist and nearly crushed it in his unrelenting grip as he kneed her in the stomach and flipped them both towards the edge of the broken bridge.

"You don't think I'm wearing _Kevlar_ you trigger happy insane woman?" Barnes spat as they smashed head first into the broken railings running along the edge of the highway. Natasha bared her teeth at him before she swiftly whipped a knife at his face as she wrapped her legs around the railing and flipped herself away from him and landed on her feet.

Barnes cursed as he fell flat on his back to avoid getting stabbed in the throat by her flying knife and promptly rolled out of the way as bullets started blowing up clunks of tar all around him.

You wonder what happens when you irreproachably piss off the Black Widow?

_BANG! BANG! _

Click.

Empty.

"Where are the rest of your little fucking army _now,_ Barnes?" she shouted as she took the empty useless gun and angrily _whipped_ it at his head. James easily ducked as the gun flew over his head and smashed into his car window.

There was no one else but the two of them on the destroyed road.

"They'd just get in the way," James sneered. Natasha curled her hands into fists and felt the cold anger start to rise inside of her.

"Of me shooting your _ass_!" she hissed. James scoffed and shook his head in disgust.

"How many more men are you going to con, Natasha? How many more pathetic men are you going to use and abuse? How many more strong men are you going to destroy?" he asked challengingly. Natasha's eyes flashed in utter burning hatred.

Once a woman slept with a horde of dirty scumbags and killed over 99 percent of them the world will never let her forget it.

Especially the few she let live.

Natasha was _tired_ of it.

"I didn't _ask_ for this life, Barnes! I didn't ask for any of this! I'm tired of seducing men and killing in bed! I'm tired of giving pain and taking pain. I'm _sick_ of the shit they made us do!" Natasha shouted across the short distance between the two heavily breathing dirt covered ex-partners.

Her sharp and deafening voice echoed for nearly several hundred yards in every direction. James just stared at her in disbelief.

"But he's still an assassin! You're still killing men if you stay with him! How is working for SHIELD any different?" James shouted back as he wildly gestured towards the edge of the gap in the bridge where she purposely dropped her partner.

Natasha's eyes darkened. She _hated_ when other people tried to manipulate her - with fucked up logic no less.

"I've been working on the outside long enough to know the assignments I do with him are nothing like the assignments _we_ got!" Natasha said heatedly. James angrily shook his head.

"Even if you're just stalling for him - eventually someone will kill him because of _you_, Natasha," he said damningly. Natasha clenched her jaw and mentally planned his death to be excruciatingly painful, bloody and satisfying.

"He's like a cockroach - he's one hell of a difficult bastard to kill," she said tensely.

_I know - I've tried extremely hard to kill him myself the first time we met. It was only failure in my life I'll never regret. _

"This infatuation with the enemy is going to be the _death_ of you," James said warningly. Natasha finally snapped.

"Shut up and just _die_ already!" Natasha growled as she threw one of her last knives at his head before she kicked up an old rusty rod lying on the ground into her hand and promptly bashed him over the back of the head while he was distracted. She watched him collapse to the ground before she dropped the rod. She had him brutally pinned to the ground with his arms behind his back before the rusty thing even clattered to the floor.

And then she proceeded to beat the living _shit_ out of him.

_BAM! _

"_That's_ for trying to light my partner's ass on fire!" she shouted as she socked him in the eye.

_SLAM!_

"_That's_ for trying to kill us both!" she bellowed as she bashed his head against the ground.

_SMASH!_

"_That's_ for not understanding what leave me the hell _alone_ means!" she yelled as she kneed him in the gut. James coughed as she continued to roughen him up, but he was nowhere near unconscious - he was built to withstand more than just a moderate beating like this.

"You can bang me up all you want, Natasha - but I'm still dragging your ass back to Petrovich," James said menacingly as the blood dripped heavily down his face.

He's not that easy to kill either - Natasha wasn't the only dangerously enhanced assassin here.

Natasha felt like taking her knife and just cutting his tongue off - he was pissing her off _that_ much.

"_Ugh_! You're just a _toy_ to them! You're just a pawn! Don't you ever want to leave the Red Room behind? Don't you ever want your memories back, James? Of who you used to be?" she demanded as she shook him roughly back and forth. James' eyes darkened.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he seethed. Natasha's eyes hardened.

"You should do some research. You should look up James Barnes in the American military records!" she said angrily tightening her hold on his arms. James furiously shook his head as he struggled against her.

"It doesn't matter anymore! Everyone from the past is _dead_!" he hissed. _Everyone who mattered was dead long ago. _

Or were they?

They both tensed as the unstable ground beneath them started to cave in around them. Natasha promptly let go of his locked arms as she grabbed a gun from his own holster and threw herself away from the crumbling edge. The second she was off him he rolled away from the edge himself.

In less than a moment they were both to their feet and when they spun around to face the other they each had a gun in their hand pointed at the other's forehead. They were both breathing heavily covered in blood, sweat and the air teeming with rage and resentment.

Natasha narrowed her eyes as a cold ruthless determination settled into her sharp gaze.

"I'm going to shoot you. I don't care if I die too- I'm going to shoot you," Natasha threatened with a steady hand on the trigger. If she shot him and he shot her - it'll all be over.

_If I'm dead this all stops. _

"Then shoot me, Natasha," James said daringly as he curled his finger around the trigger of his own gun. Natasha breathed heavily as she tightened the grip on his gun still shoved against his forehead.

_But shooting him solves nothing. _

She slammed her eyes shut as she flipped the gun around to point it to her own head and instantly pulled the trigger.

_BANG!_

Click.

Her eyes flashed open as she stared at her ex-partner. He steadily stared back.

It was sheer luck she had fired a blank.

"Welcome home, Natalia," James said carefully as he breathed harsh ragged breaths before he sharply readjusted his aim and shot her in the chest. Natasha hissed as she got _stabbed_ with a tranquilizing dart. She gritted her teeth as the sedative instantly took effect as it got pumped into her blood stream by her erratically beating heart. She felt herself drop to her knees as the useless, empty gun slipped out of her hand and she blacked out.

_Don't come for me, Clint. Please don't come. _

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Clint gasped as his eyes flashed open and he instantly turned onto his side and started coughing and throwing up huge amounts of cold ice water. After he was done emptying his lungs and stomach of river water he fell over onto his back and shivered as his body trembled due the freezing temperature of the air around him. He couldn't feel his hands or his feet and he was pretty sure quite a few a vital parts of his body were about to freeze and fall off. When his lagging brain _finally_ regained the ability to function again and his watery vision cleared he was able to make out a vague impression of his unfamiliar surroundings.

The very first thing he noted was that the sky was _pitch_ black and he had absolutely no idea where he was. Last time he checked it was mid-afternoon when his partner had fucking let him _fall_ potentially to his death. His eyes rapidly darted around the unknown riverbank and dark buildings along the other side of the road behind him. The river must have taken him down stream because both the broken highway and his partner were nowhere in sight.

A cold feeling of dread, even worse than the freezing soaked clothes plastered to his body and the frigid temperature surrounding him, filled his chest.

_If she wasn't here - where was she now?_

"No. Fuck, _no_! Natasha!" he hissed in pain as he shakily rolled himself over and coughed up a storm as he realized if she didn't come down here to kick his ass and neither did Barnes that meant only one thing.

_She's gone. _

"Fuck you, Natasha. You promised. You _promised_ you wouldn't ditch me you asshole!" he shouted as he slammed his eyes shut and tried to get air into his drowning lungs. He wanted to punch something so bad and shout that he was right. That was just waiting to ditch him - but then her voice filled his ears and made him freeze in his hypothermia clouded thoughts.

_I'm not going anywhere. You have to stop thinking I'm going to ditch you, Clint. I won't - not unless I have a damn good reason._

He suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe as an even worst reality dawned on him.

_No._

"Oh my _god_," he whispered as his face sank deeper into the snow beneath him. _That bastard. He was going to kill that fucking bastard._ He froze in his burning rage when he realized a vital problem in his mission to hunt down and destroy the man that took his partner.

_Where would he look? _

They could be anywhere by now. He had been knocked out cold for at _least_ a couple of hours.

"Where would they take you, Natasha? Give me something. You have to give me something," he pleaded to empty cold air as he rolled onto his drenched back due to the sheer exhaustion.

"Russia is too far and would give you too much time to escape. They need to recondition you as soon as possible. Where would he _take_ you?" Clint asked himself angrily slamming his fist into the snowy ground beside him.

And then the memories flashed across his mind.

_"Name one of your cities and I'll name one of mine Tasha," he said giving her a weak smile. Natasha gave him a wary look but relented in the end._

_"Budapest," she said quietly. Clint blinked._

_"Well that's interesting. I have one in Budapest too," he said warily. Natasha gave him a guarded look._

_"Why did you choose Budapest?" she asked cautiously. Clint instantly went still as he stared at the wall with unseeing eyes._

_"Bad job," he said darkly. Very bad job._ _He didn't elaborate and she didn't push for any details. Instead she told him why for herself._

_"I needed a place in that city…because a major Red Room satellite post is there to monitor the operations happening along the border of eastern and western Europe," she said carefully._

Clint stared up at the snow falling softly from the sky onto his freezing cold, wet and broken body.

"_Budapest_," he whispered in a faraway voice as he felt the hypothermia started to sink in and his body finally decided it was time to shut down.

But he couldn't stop here - he had to keep moving. She still needed him. She needed him now more than _ever_.

_"You're in Budapest," _Clint mumbled drowsily as he tried to lift his heavy body off the ground and crawl across the snow banks along the river but he lost his balance and fell face first into the snow and felt his vision start to fade. His bullet wound in his arm steadily started bleeding warm through his jacket again and turned the snow around him bright red. He curled his hands into fists and an angry broken _sob_ retched through his chest.

"_I'm_ supposed to protect you - not the other way around, _Natasha_!" he shouted as his voice echoed around the empty riverside. He quickly ran out of energy from his short burst of anger and his entire body fell still onto the blood soaked snow and he slipped away into the world of unconsciousness.

He was in no condition to come save her now.

_I don't want to be alone again, Tasha._

___Why did you leave me? _

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

_You're not alone, together we stand  
I'll be by your side, you know I'll take your hand  
__**When it gets cold and it feels like the end**__  
There's no place to go, you know I won't give in_

_**So far away, I wish you were here  
Before it's too late this could all disappear**__  
Before the door's closed and it comes to an end  
With you by my side I will fight and defend  
I'll fight and defend_

_Hear me when I say when I say, I believe  
Nothing's gonna change, nothing's gonna change destiny  
Whatever's meant to be will work out perfectly_

_**Keep holding on  
'Cause you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through**_

_Avril Lavigne - Keep Holding On_

.

.

.

.

.

B.

U.

D.

A.

P.

E.

S.

T.

.

I.

S.

.

H.

E.

R.

E.

_Finally_…

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: Well. That was a heavy chapter. Natasha was sedated and spynapped. Clint is shot, bleeding and unconscious in the snow. SHIELD still thinks he is dead and Natasha is about to be brainwashed all over again.  
**

**Yes, Natasha **_**lost**_**. But think about it. Barnes played dirty. She fought Yelena and a slew of other Red Room operatives before Barnes fought her when she was exhausted and basically focused on stalling for Clint who was shot and bleeding. Also she even tried to commit suicide because she meant it when she told Clint she doesn't want them taken in alive - but there is not much she can do now when she fired a blank. **

**Who said Budapest was a **_**SHIELD**_** mission? Who said that? **

**Budapest is Clint Barton's personal rescue mission or a bloody revenge affair depending on the status of his partner. If she is alive when he gets there is going to try and save her - if he is too late she gets brainwashed and he loses her forever. **

**BTW Budapest is 12 hours away by car from Geneva - so he has **_**some**_** time. **

**I'm sorry all the fighting was Natasha based- but Clint would have definitely DIED if he fought hand to hand combat with Barnes in his condition. Did you want him to die when he is already on the edge of death? My offer last chapter was a trick question! He's injured remember? But don't worry. The next few chapters is all crafty Clint and Clint **_**alone**_**. Just because he is not in a condition to be in a lethal fist fight doesn't mean he is not a **_**smart**_** fighter. It's not always about your brutal strength. Clint is good infiltrator - he is a genius in his own right. You'll see. **

**You should sit down for the next note.**

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**.**

**I Dare You is almost over as a whole story. Budapest is the end. :'( **

**Thank you for reading for so long everyone! Are you going to be sad when it's over? **


	136. Chapter 136

**I Dare You**

**A/N: I APOLIGIZE FOR THE LONG WAIT AT SUCH AN IMPORTANT POINT IN THE STORY- but guys…I was ****_exhausted_****. University is exhausting. The ****_worst _****is the long commuting to and from campus. I wrote this bit by bit after I got home like at 11 pm every day. T.T**

**Fan fact: High school…is a joke. (And I KNOW grade 12 was killer - I complained about that over the last 7 months and I just graduated that hell in June). But it's ****_still _****a joke!**

**Anyway, my personal sob story aside, for the IDY-is-soon-to-be-ending ****_riot _****response (O.O damn was there a review riot) read my end of chapter A/N.**

**I'm sorry if I couldn't reply to all your reviews last chapter! (So tired). I did read them though and they made me want to keep writing! Because I love writing and I am so glad you still want to keep reading :)**

**So until then - enjoy some serious heavy agent Barton angst and his personal brand of genius.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 136**

In a small town located in rural southern France two senior SHIELD agents were searching a tiny motel room of particular interest.

"Are you sure this was where the signal stopped? _This_ specific room?" Hill asked carefully as they continued to comb through the motel room with frightening efficiency. Coulson gave her a curt nod as he crouched down to one knee on the ground and checked under the bed.

"Yes. And I just found their guns," he said quietly fishing out two handguns with familiar serial codes on them. He stared at one of them in particular and Hill watched his heart practically plummet in his eyes.

"She had them both?" Hill asked cautiously. _What does that mean?_Coulson nodded solemnly but then paused as if he was reading her suspicious thoughts.

"But that doesn't mean what you might think it means. Keep looking. There might be something else she left behind that will clue us in on what happened," Coulson said firmly as he started looking under every surface in the room.

Hill sighed and shook her head as she watched the intensely focused handler continue his determined quest to find his missing agents.

And somehow _this_ was the man who was the _most_ suspicious and careful around Barton's new partner for at _least_ the first 8 months of their partnership? Hill had no idea how Romanoff got him so thoroughly on her side.

Then again, after Romania that eccentric Russian sort of won the SHIELD second commander over as well. But agent Hill would _never_ admit that she had a soft spot for all three of her unusual agents working under her – not even under penalty of death.

"There are more places to look...," Hill muttered as she started flipping through several videos flagged as important on her tablet. She froze on a particular news piece at the exact second Coulson had checked under the hotel table.

"Coulson...," Hill said cautiously as she watched the silent video on her tablet and then immediately replayed it just to be sure she wasn't seeing things.

"Hill...," Coulson said with equal caution as he pulled a crumpled sticky note away from the underside of the table and stared at the familiar handwriting he has seen scrawled all over the paperwork he has been signing off on over the last year.

They both took a deep breath.

"Barton's not dead," they said at the same time.

_Silence_.

"You first," Coulson said quietly bracing his palm against the wall and trying not to let his breathing rate spike. Hill noticed the change instantly and watched him with alarm.

"Are you okay?" she asked carefully. Coulson nodded as he stared at the half crumpled note in his hand.

"I just need a second to take in the fact that my best friend and best field agent is not dead," Coulson said while breathing out slow and controlled breaths. Hill gave him a part sympathetic/ part-wary glance.

"And you're planning to strap him to desk with iron chains and torture him with paperwork when you finally get your hands on him aren't you?" she said knowingly. Coulson's perfect poker face never changed - but she saw a foreboding glint flash across his eyes all the same.

_He was going to eat that little bow wielder alive._

"You have no idea how much grief that archer puts me through," he said darkly. Hill promptly scoffed. She was the Director's right hand man - as _if_ she didn't know what went on under her command.

"Oh trust me, I do understand how badly his ridiculous shenanigans and bad luck freak you out - it's marked by the increasing numbers of grey hairs you keep trying to hide with hair dye," Hill said flatly.

Coulson instantly scowled at her.

"I don't dye my hair at 33!" he said defensively. Hill gave him a long look.

"Liar," she said dryly. Coulson glared at her.

"Stalker," he accused. Hill shrugged and straightened her back like she was about to give a fresh batch of junior agents a terrifying speech about death, penalty of treason and the reality of paperwork – not _field_ work- but paperwork.

She told them everything they needed to know - but never about how senior agents find loop holes, disregard orders and avoid every and all SHIELD regulations when possible - _cough-agent-Barton-cough._

Hill promptly gave Coulson _the stare_.

"I don't have to stalk you - I simply stalk your online shopping bill," she said with a straight face that could rival the director's one eye stare.

Coulson almost paled - _almost_. He knew she was kidding.

He was pretty sure she was kidding...

She was kidding...right?

"You are one creepy commander," he muttered finally when he could find nothing else to say. Hill levelled him with her own personal killer unimpressed stare that made junior agents tremble in their boots.

"Someone always dumps multivitamins into my coffee which ruins the flavour. Muffins mysteriously appear on my desk on days when I was too busy with meetings to eat a single bite. _You_ haunt my office after hours to herd me out of the base and make sure I go home and actually sleep every few days - _that_ makes you a creepy subordinate doesn't it?" she shot back guardedly.

They both stared at each other challengingly. It was a unanimous agreement that they were both creepy stalkers (with extremely good stalking skills - courtesy of their covert jobs). Their odd work-relationship rivaled that of Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff.

"Can't we just say we're friends?" Coulson finally asked tiredly while ending their little spat. Hill instantly looked away.

"It's hard to be friends with your boss...," she muttered uneasily as she stared at the worn out blank wall. Coulson gave her a bordering on frustrated look.

"So why do you _always_ have a drink with me on the last Tuesday of every month?" he asked carefully.

Hill stiffened.

He had crossed a line.

"Stop it, Coulson. What does the note say?" Hill asked sharply changing the conversation and stepping away from him. Coulson watched her tighten her grip on her tablet and sighed heavily. If he ever thought too hard about this complicated mess he would get a massive migraine.

And Barton came to _him_ for his relationship troubles?

That boy didn't even know his handler was _more_ crap at the _holding down a woman_ business then the poorly experienced carnie-turned-soldier-turned-assassin-turned-black -ops-agent.

Coulson finally just gave up and read the note.

"It saids '_Hawks are more resilient than you think. Follow the trail of destruction to find the slightly burnt one you're looking for. Spiders repay their debts until their dying day by taking care of their own_'," Coulson said quietly. Hill suspiciously leaned forward to make sure he was serious.

"Well - she is poetic," she muttered. Coulson gave her a wary look.

"What did _you_ find?" he asked guardedly. Hill's expression suddenly grew grim as she showed him the gruesome images on her tablet screen.

"Their path of destruction," she deadpanned. Coulson stared at the Swiss news footage of a residential back street flooded with blood and bullets embedded in every building wall on the corner. But the only thing that caught the SHIELD handler's sharp eyes and completely encompassed his full attention was the extremely familiar military-grade arrows sticking out of countless bodies littering the Genevian street.

"Barton's been busy," Hill said quietly. Coulson instantly frowned. This was a _bad_ miss-leading image.

"They haven't gone rogue," he said instantly taking a closer look at the arrangement of the dead bodies. Hill narrowed her eyes as she replayed the video of the police investigating the crime scene.

"How are you so sure? They've been killing people left and right," Hill said with a heavy sigh as she handed him the tablet and sat down on the bed while she rubbed her temples in small circles. One of their best black ops teams was making a mess out there and not telling them anything.

That was a bad, _bad_ sign.

Coulson just continued to study the scene as he stood in front of her and ignored the heavy question hanging in the air.

_If they don't make contact that means they're doing something highly illegal right?_

"It's the same type of scuffle like Paris. The dead bodies are on either end of the street - he had to fire from at least a few stories high to make this shot - otherwise the arrows would hit at a different angle," he said carefully pointing to the dead Russians on the ground. Hill sighed.

"That doesn't tell me anything specific about their intentions Coulson," Hill said warningly. Coulson shook his head - he wasn't done and gestured back to the screen. She didn't know his agents as well as he did.

"At the same there are bullet holes in some of the other bodies that are too low to be from that height. She _had_ to be firing from the ground," Coulson said carefully analyzing the scene in a way that the crime investigators would never be able to. He instantly looked up and locked eyes with the guarded looking commander sitting in front of him. "He was protecting her - Barton doesn't make kill shots like these for no reason. He hasn't made this many hits since his mission in London when he killed the 23 terrorists he was supposed to locate. That was 2 years ago. This is different. This is them being hunted by the soviets," he said carefully handing the tablet back to her - his work here was done. Hill dropped her hand from her face and just stared at him.

"Red Room is finally making a move after a _year_ of letting their asset run free?" she asked doubtfully. Coulson nodded slowly.

"I think they were testing her while she was with us," he said quietly. Hill suddenly looked extremely wary.

"After what I saw in Romania - I think she failed their test - badly. She nearly died for Barton," she said tiredly. _Nothing she does made any sense_. Agent Romanoff was a complex assassin and Hill just didn't understand what went on in that Russian's head 99 percent of the time. Everything she did since the second she got escorted in handcuffs through the base hasn't been anything they were expecting.

Romanoff was a complete wild card - except when it came to Barton's safety. That was a constant.

"Yes, she did. She would have done it even if they weren't compromised as well - she has this life debt she thinks she owes him since Berlin," Coulson said with a sigh. Hill just stared at him. Coulson didn't even bother to respond to her look.

No one said agent Romanoff's twisted logic made any sense.

"You know, I really don't know how those two passed their psyche tests," Hill said in defeat. Based on what she is seeing they shouldn't have even _been_ cleared for active duty. Coulson shrugged.

It's not like he didn't know. He knew it would be worse if they weren't kept busy in the field. You can't keep dangerous assassins like those two locked up on base for long.

_Bad_ things tend to happen to the unfortunate people left on base with them.

"They can fake any psychological test we force them through - if they couldn't, they'd be dead," Coulson said simply. Hill sighed in defeat.

"So what do we do now? They're obviously avoiding us," Hill muttered as she turned the tablet screen off and exhaled slowly. This was turning into a complex nightmare.

"We need to get to Geneva," Coulson said carefully. Hill gave him a sharp look.

"But there is a storm that is about to hit the entire west side of the country," Hill said warningly. Coulson stared out the window with a faraway look.

"Even more reason to get in there before we're trapped on the outside," Coulson said firmly before he spun around on the heel of his pristine black shoes and stalked out of the cheap motel room while clutching the note from a spider that put the hope and determination back into his sharp eyes.

_The Hawk wasn't dead._

_But where was his spider?_

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Clint gasped as he woke up disoriented and with his heart racing a second time since his partner had let him fall off a broken highway. He instantly shot up and stared at the blanket pooling around his waist and rapidly felt around the warm brown couch he has been apparently lying on.

_What the f...?_

He couldn't even finish that thought because his head hurt _so damn much_.

But more importantly he really needed to _stop_ waking up in strange places he didn't recognize.

It was like his quarter-life crisis right after his military 'death' all over again.

"Where the hell am I?" Clint asked hoarsely as he drowsily scanned the warm living room with the only light coming from the large fireplace across from the couch. He wasn't in a cell or an interrogation room or a torture chamber or any other unfortunately familiar surrounding that indicated he got captured by the enemy.

In fact he wasn't restrained in any way whatsoever. He was all alone in someone's private living room.

"This...I don't even know _what_ this is," Clint muttered unfocusedly as he threw the blanket off of him and swung his legs over the edge of the couch to stand up.

The second he got to his feet the blood instantly rushed from his head and made him dizzy.

_CRASH_!

He promptly collapsed and fell face first into the red carpet on the floor.

"_Fuck,_" he groaned in agony as he rolled himself over onto his side and felt the aches and pains from all the damage he has been taking over the last few days finally catch up with him. He couldn't even open his eyes as he braced himself and breathed through the pain.

This was so damn pathetic.

"Need to...get out of here," he muttered to himself as he _finally_ got a hold of his breathing before he pushed himself off the ground and stood up one more time (with great difficulty).

"Okay. I can do this," he said determinedly before he instantly felt his head start to spin a second time and grabbed on the wall to prevent another collapsing episode.

_He so doesn't have this._

"What the hell is wrong with me?" he asked angrily as he took several harsh breaths as he inched towards the fireplace. He knew he was in someone's house and they probably took him in after seeing the bloody scene of an unconscious foreign man in the snow - but he wasn't taking any chances.

_Too_ many people have kidnapped him _too_ many times and played mind games with him in _too_ many fucked up ways. If this was an elaborate plan to make him take up a false sense of security then these bastards had another thing coming. Natasha might be the _more_ paranoid one between the two of them - but she definitely wasn't the only one.

Frankly, the only time agent Barton resembled anything close to sane is when he was standing next to _her._That's where he is _supposed_ to be, but he can't right now because she is missing, he is half dead and a useless piece of shit.

Damn it, he needed to redeem his worth as a partner and fix his damaged man pride.

"Need a weapon. Need a weapon," he muttered as he inched closer to the fireplace initially for warmth - but then he paused when he noticed the iron rods sitting in a bin beside the fire.

"_Bingo_," he whispered as he picked up one of the metal rods meant for pushing the ashes in the fireplace and started inching out of the warm fire-lit room and down the darker red carpeted hall.

"Damn this is one expensive fancy house," he muttered under his breath as he suspiciously looked around every corner and every shadow he saw.

He had no fucking clue what the _hell_ was going on.

He heard a door suddenly open around the corner and tightened his grip on the metal rod. He was prepared to _slam_ it into whoever's face was around the corner.

He was _sick_ of people always getting the jump on him.

He took a deep silent breath before he turned the corner and came face to face with a 7 foot giant _mammoth_ of a man with a thick black beard and piercing tiny beady little eyes. The massive black winter coat and army boots didn't make him feel any better.

Clint will forever blame the hypothermia freezing his rational brain cells for what happened next.

"_AHHHHHHH_!" the giant man screamed in shock at the sharp metal weapon in his face.

"_AHHHHHHH_!" Clint shouted back in alarm at the same time and held up his pitiful metal rod in the face of the _huge_ potential enemy.

It was like holding up a toothpick against a Bengal tiger and hoping you poked its eye out before you turned around and ran for your pathetic life.

"Please! Do not be afraid!" the giant body builder man shouted hurriedly as he dropped the paper bags in his arms and instantly put his hands up in a gesture that was supposed to be non-threatening.

But Clint paled as he watched the sheer muscles flex on the monster man's arms that could easily _snap_ his short lean compact body in half.

Fear could not even cover what his drowsy, lagging and panicked mind was feeling at the moment.

"Do not be afraid? _Do not be afraid_? What the _hell_ should I be feeling right now mammoth I've never seen in my _life_?" Clint shouted in outrage as he plastered himself against the wall and tightly held the metal rod threateningly in his hand.

He didn't even think it would even hurt the big guy if he tried to weaponize it.

"I did not mean to frighten you," the big guy said slowly as he watched the rod tremble in the injured assassin's hand. Clint took several shaky breaths and gave him a suspicious look.

"Why- why are you talking like that?" Clint demanded. The big guy sighed and made slow calming gestures that made Clint want to immediately crawl up the wall and hide in a vent.

Does this massive place have any vents?

"I apologize. English is not my first language. I do not mean you any harm," the giant scary looking man said genuinely sounding apologetic. Clint finally managed to calm his panicked mind down enough to realize that if this scary looking giant was a threat he'd already _be_ dead by now. He slowly lowered his weapon and the strange big guy finally sighed in relief.

That was a first.

"You're Hungarian?" Clint asked cautiously analyzing his accent in his head. The man's face instantly brightened.

"Yes. Do you speak my language?" he asked hopefully. Clint winced as he grabbed the side of his head and found yet another bandage wrapped around his forehead - one that wasn't put there by his partner.

"Yes, but I can't think right now...things are fuzzy. What the hell is wrong with my head?" he asked heavily leaning against the wall and wincing from the pain. The big guy instantly looked solemn.

"You have a slight head injury...when I found you...in the snow on the riverside a quarter mile outside of Geneva. I was walking home and you were just...lying on the ground. I...I fixed you. You were dying," he said hesitantly watching the injured archer's face for his reaction.

Clint instantly paled.

"You..._what_?" Clint asked in alarm as he suddenly started pulling down the neckline of his bloody shirt and taking a fearful look at his bandaged and healing arms. Both the burns and the bullet wound had been bandaged and re-bandaged. Clint instantly stopped breathing.

_Don't panic, Barton. Don't panic, Barton. Don't panic, Barton._

_You're a god damn SHIELD agent - don't panic god damn it!_

The man saw the panic flash across his eyes no matter how desperately Clint wanted to hide it and quickly continued talking before the injured archer had a heart attack.

"I had to remove the bullet from your arm - you were losing too much blood. You would have died out there from blood loss before the hypothermia even had a chance to kill you," the Hungarian man said uneasily as he pulled out his hand from his pocket and held out a metal object for him to take. Clint was startled out of his intense focus on not panicking as his sharp eyes locked onto the bullet in the hand that was thrice the size of his own.

"I...you didn't..._thank you_," Clint said in a stunned voice as he cautiously reached out with his right hand to pick up the bullet. He silently willed himself not to freak out about the new bandaging on his burn wounds. No stranger deserved to see _his_ special brand of freaking out. Only his partner and handler had even been able to calm him down from one of _those_ panic attacks.

His heart suddenly _squeezed_ the life right out of him in his chest.

He didn't know where either of the two most important people in his life was right now.

The large imposing Hungarian man suddenly leaned forward and gave him what looked like it was _meant_ to be a friendly smile - it looked more like a terrifying leer.

"My name is Tiny Kuna. I am a Hungarian army medical officer. You are American - yes? What is your name?" he asked curiously.

Clint stared up at his 7 foot frame compared to his tiny 5"8 height and gave Tiny Kuna a disbelieving look.

Tiny? With _that_ massive body?

Kuna? Like ha_kuna_ matata?

He wasn't even going to ask.

"It's Clint Barton," Clint said quietly as he glanced back down and stared at the bullet that separated him from his partner. She didn't let him fight alongside her because of this tiny little insignificant metal pain in his ass that had been embedded in his arm.

He _hated_ it with a burning passion.

"Well it's nice to meet you, Mister Barton. It is very good to see you are awake and well enough to move around - but you need rest. You are in great pain - yes?" Tiny said cautiously gesturing to his weak wilting posture. Clint instantly stiffened as a hundred different things instantly flashed across his lagging brain.

Natasha. Barnes. Captured. Budapest. Brainwashing. Torture. Execution. Hours ago. Help. Rescue. Find.

Tasha.

Tasha.

_Tasha._

Clint couldn't even think of anything else even if he _tried_. His head was just swimming in her name with red flashing light going off behind his eyes and piercing alarms ringing in his ears.

"_No_. No, I need to go. Right now. I need to leave. I need...I need to find her," Clint said quickly as his eyes darted towards the front door behind the large man who saved him. In some _small_ corner of his brain that wasn't consumed by his need to find Natasha he was grateful - very grateful.

But right now he needed to _leave_.

Tiny gave the half limping American edging his way around him like a spooked horse a wary look and reached out to steady him because he looked he was about to collapse.

"You are not well my friend…," he said cautiously placing his large warm hand on the archer's trembling shoulders. Clint froze and felt his heart _stop beating_.

He really shouldn't have done that.

_"Don't touch me_!" Clint exploded as he threw himself away from the imposing Hungarian and plastered himself against the wall once again with a full blown panic coursing through his body.

_Why can't people just keep their hands to themselves? What is it with this touching business? _

He _hated_ people touching him. He couldn't _stand_ it. Random people trying to touch him drove him up a wall. It made him want to spend the rest of his life hiding out in vents and rafters where _no one_ could reach him, but yet his arrows and bullets could reach _everyone_. It was his comfort zone and it was strictly _solitary_. He needed _no one_ – almost no one.

Because at the same time he wanted _nothing_ more than to hold his partner tightly in his arms right now. Just _her_. No one else. He didn't want anyone else.

What a contradicting complex man he was.

"Not touching," Tiny said startled by the unexpected explosion and instantly stepped away from the injured assassin that was radiating dangerous dark vibes and instability. He kept his hands where Clint could see them and just watched him with deeply rooted concern.

Clint instantly pointed the metal rod at the unfamiliar self proclaimed medical officer and unsteadily backed away from him. His intense glare said it all.

_I might be small but I'll bite and scratch you like a rapid dog until my last breath._

Tiny stayed right where he was. Maybe the unstable American man couldn't win the fight, especially in his terrible condition, but he could definitely leave a _hell_ of a lot of damage.

Clint was currently the desperate type of man who trusted _no one_ at this point.

"Don't follow me. I don't _need_ your help," Clint growled warningly as he breathed in deep painful breaths. Tiny furrowed his brow, but kept silent as he watched the injured man he had rescued from the snow make his way down the hall behind him.

Clint kept his eyes on the buff stranger at all times as he reached behind him to unlock the front door and shoved it open. He felt the cold air instantly hit his sweat soaked back - but he didn't care. He was ready to _run_ like a bat out of hell and catch the first train to Budapest. His plan burst into flames right before his very eyes when he turned around.

The sound of metal clattering to the floor echoed throughout the large empty mansion of a house.

_Whoosh_.

"_Oh my fucking god...,"_ Clint whispered as he stared at the _intense_ blizzard blowing through the air in front of him and the 4 foot of snow blocking his exit. The whistling wind beating against his weather worn face and chilling his body to the bone felt like it was laughing at him and his terrible bad luck.

He was trapped.

Holy shit - he was _trapped_.

"_Tasha_…," he whispered before he felt his legs give out from beneath him as he fell to his knees in front of the snow storm _raging_ on the outside. He felt the dizziness he had been steadily ignoring this whole time rush back full force and he nearly blacked out again from the weight of his reality.

_How was he going to save her now?_

"Who are you looking for, Mister Barton?" Tiny asked quietly from behind him. Clint didn't even have the strength to tell the man to go away and leave him alone in his blinding misery.

"_My partner_," he whispered as he fell against the doorframe and just tried to keep breathing.

_What was he going to do?_

"Where do you think she is?" Tiny asked cautiously. Clint just stared at the snow whirling through the air with unseeing eyes.

"Budapest," he said emptily. _There was no way he'd make it to her in time now._ He felt the large presence come to stand at his right but he didn't even care if the man could kill him in one well aimed blow to his head - he was already a failure.

If he couldn't even get to where she was he was an utter failure of a partner. She didn't deserve a pathetic partner like him.

"No one can get anywhere in this storm, Mister Barton - not a train, not a car and certainly not an aeroplane. Wherever your partner is - she is not in Budapest yet," Tiny said quietly. _She's somewhere trapped in this storm just like us._Clint just shook his head while lost in a daze caused by _extreme_ stress, anxiety and pain.

"You don't understand. She's not just missing….she could…she could…," Clint gasped as he tried desperately not to start hyperventilating as images of Natasha being tortured, Natasha bleeding on a dark cell floor, Natasha being stabbed with needles she _hated_, Natasha being drugged, Natasha being strapped down to a medical table with Russian doctors full of sinister intent staring down at her unconscious (or _not_) body, who should face _death row_ then ever be allowed to perform surgery on _anyone_.

He knew she could handle it all. She could handle any type of pain. That's not what scared him. What scared him was something much, much worse.

If he was too late.

If he didn't make it to her in time.

If he didn't find her in time.

_She could be gone._

Tasha could be gone forever and all that he would find left was her cold shell that was the Widow.

But he didn't want the Widow. He wanted _Tasha_. He _needed_ Tasha.

Tiny gave the painfully lost looking American a sympathetic look.

"If you die in that storm, Mister Barton - you are no help to her. You should rest. I will wake you when the storm has passed and you can leave as soon as you are strong again," Tiny said as reassuringly as he could manage.

Clint instantly stiffened.

Tiny said the wrong thing again.

"I don't have _time_ to wait until I'm strong again, Tiny. I need to leave as soon as the storm is over," Clint said sharply. Tiny narrowed his eyes.

"You need to have patienc-," he started to say warningly but the archer sharply cut him off with flashing eyes that were striking like a Widow's gaze.

Just because his personality rubbed off on her, didn't mean it didn't work the other way around as well.

"_Don't_. Don't you _dare_ preach to me about patience. I have an insanely difficult job and an even _more_ insane and difficult partner that forced me to be one of the most patience men in the world. You have no idea how much patience I need to deal with her and her bullshit. Patience only helps when you are waiting for the proper moment! It's not _time_ to wait right now! Waiting is not going to save her!" Clint shouted heatedly as he _slammed_ his fist into the wall beside him. He instantly slumped as the energy drained out of his body faster than he could blink.

"I need…I need…," Clint took several deep breaths as he tried to calm himself. He doesn't need anyone to do that. He can calm down. He can calm himself down. To save Tasha he needed to be calm.

He could do calm. He could do calm _extremely_ well.

The only problem was that it would be a bold faced _lie_ because inside he was never calm. Inside he was a messy turmoil of intensely clashing emotions- he was a disaster waiting to happen.

"What do you need?" Tiny asked quietly crouching down beside the exhausted looking man who finally looked like he had tired himself out. There was also thankfully no scary wild panic left in his dull blue eyes.

"I need…a laptop, a cell phone and your TV satellite dish," Clint said tiredly as he leaned his head back against the wall beside the front door and stared out into the winter disaster with a faraway expression on his face. He's not giving up. He hasn't given up yet. He hasn't even _began_ to try yet.

_Wherever you are, Tasha - I'm going to find you._

_Just be safe - for just a bit longer. Be safe._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

**A/N: Aww.****Does anyone besides Barton miss Natasha at all after this chapter? Anyone?**

**Okay - hopefully you do. If not you will after the next chapter as we follow Clint on his quest to track her down - blizzard or no blizzard.**

**Onto more important things (lol).**

**Oh no I didn't mean to upset everyone about the end of the story! What I meant by IDY ending is that Budapest is a nice ending before a sequel. There is still 8 years of their partnership and a lot of unanswered questions and so many more missions in my head - but I also don't have the time to write as frequently as you can tell by my lack of updates because of the start of University (which is CRAZY...so much damn work). I laughed through high school - I shall cry through university.**

**Anyway, there's a couple of things I can do...**

**A) I fully finish IDY with Budapest and eventually start a sequel later when I have more time later this year. (December break...) lets skip some years and get closer to avengers. **

**Or...**

**B) I'll continue the clintasha story after Budapest including the aftermath in IDY and not start another sequel - but updates will be slower (weekly…?) i will still skip years. **

**C) I'm planning a prequel to IDY which requires a few months of a hiatus on the current storyline (A Or B). I still need to flesh out how they met because I didn't cover it in IDY - I have just been referring vaguely to a mission in Berlin where agent Barton was sent to assassinate the Black Widow who was on assignment to assassinate a ex-soviet politician. Would you like me to write this NON-romance story (still IDY universe)?**

**I'm not leaving you guys if you still want me to keep writing. Do you want me to keep writing? I just thought the story was getting really long...don't you think? :(**

**P.S. DO YOU KNOW I COULDN'T GET A SPOT IN MY UNI's CREATIVE WRITING COURSE? Because it was entry by portfolio and fanfiction doesn't count as original fiction. :'( (My heart broke - 600,000 words down the drain).**

**I laughed and then I cried (yeah I'm not an assassin - don't judge me). Sob* T.T Oh well. Eventually I will definitely write my own work with my own characters.**

**For now - TO BUDAPEST!**


	137. Chapter 137

**I Dare You **

**A/N: So it appears option A has won! And Budapest is the end of IDY (before a sequel). I shall be taking a short break from this story - and yeah I should probably finish my other Clintasha stories on hold while I'm swimming in homework :) **

**P.S. After being inside his head for so long – seeing Clint Barton from the perspective of a stranger might be interesting! Don't make the mistake of thinking we have him all figured out. **

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 137 **

It's been 2 hours since Tiny left 'Mister Barton' alone in his study with all the equipment (_junk_) he had asked for and Tiny finally could no longer resist the urge to go check up on him (the mentally ingrained _doctor must check on patient_ urges were eating him alive).

What _truly_ unsettled him was the last worrying thing the American had told him before slamming the study door in his face.

'_Do you want any of this junk back in one piece?'_

Tiny had told him to do whatever he felt was necessary to locate his missing companion.

Or was it his comrade?

Or was it his colleague?

Or was it his confidant?

Tiny could not exactly recall who Mister Barton was searching for so determinedly. She must be very important. The burning need to do something with his hands was so strong in his eyes that Tiny felt obligated to leave the reserved looking man alone to do his business.

He wondered how smart that decision really was.

Now 2 hours later Tiny cautiously peaked through the crack in the doorway to his study and found what he suspected was some type of American specialist solider sitting hunched over his work desk. He was apparently passed out and lying face down on the keyboard of his laptop with an incomprehensibly list of green numbers glowing against a dark black background running across the screen.

Tiny silently opened to door enough to let himself in and carefully shuffled closer to the not so surprisingly unconscious man. He found that Mister Barton had somehow taken apart his satellite dish and connected it to the laptop while the cellphone remained untouched. He glanced at the cellphone screen and found it understandingly without any cellular service – most likely down due to the intensity of the storm.

Tiny instantly looked down at the papers spread across the desk around the exhausted American - they were covered with numbers, names and locations that meant nothing to him but obviously meant something to the peculiar man sprawled out over the desk. However, what was the most intriguing were all the Hungarian cities written across the pages – including the capital of his country. Tiny watched the rise and fall of Mister Barton's chest and frowned. Even in his sleep he looked eerily exhausted and unwell– like he didn't sleep like this very often. He wondered if this troubled young man ever got a good night's sleep at all. Tiny did not know much at all about this aloof American, but he did know one thing for certain.

He had not saved an ordinary man.

"You are on the path to complete and utter self-destruction if you keep working yourself to the brink of exhaustion like this, Mister Barton," Tiny said solemnly picking up one of the pieces of papers with the map of Hungary drawn on it.

_WOOSH_.

A small slim dagger instantly embedded itself into the wall a centimeter from the Hungarian medical officer's face and pinned the piece of paper, which had been loosely held in his hand, to the wall with it. Tiny remained unalarmed as he carefully took a deep breath – he has dealt with hundreds of injured soldiers like this in his career as a senior medical officer.

Clearly Mister Barton was playing him for a fool - that was not acceptable.

"Don't think I'm not awake and can't hear you Mr. Kuna. I'm just resting my eyes while waiting for a gap in the storm so that my connection can go through," Clint said in an even and controlled voice that was just shy of disturbing considering how he hadn't even opened his eyes.

Clint didn't need to see to know where all the weapons and threats in this room were. It was sometimes scary to actually think about the number of quirks he has internalized and picked up from his partner.

Tiny took a shallow breath before he quickly bounced back from the shock that the American was actually awake the whole time.

"I really believe you should take a break and rest. Just to get some sleep at _least_. The storm will be over in another 3 or 4 hours," Tiny said carefully as he easily adjusted to the fact that the man he was housing was much more dangerous than he had originally anticipated. He glanced at the dagger stabbed right in the center of the map of his country where Mister Barton had marked Budapest with a large X and fought the urge to grimace.

His aim was perfection.

He was also much, much more dangerous then he physically appeared. It was always the quiet and unassuming soldiers who always packed the biggest punch and survived the battlefield the longest.

If this was him at his absolute worst condition – Tiny feared what Mister Barton was capable of in top condition. He paused when the American suddenly spoke.

"Are you sure you're part of the Hungarian army? Because if you were - why would a highly skilled medical surgeon be hiding out in a big empty house a few miles outside of Geneva? 500 miles away from his country?" Clint asked carefully opening his eyes and easing himself into a sitting position. Tiny watched the dark suspicion flash across the sharp blue eyes and held his steady gaze.

"Everyone has their reasons for the things they do and what they do them for, Mister Barton," Tiny said guardedly. Clint narrowed his eyes as he took in his defensive stance.

"Are you ex-military?" he asked steadily. Tiny suddenly looked wary and slowly shook his head.

"No, not quite – I am still a part of my army. But I don't think you have the right to interrogate me about my life when you are in _my_ house," Tiny said warningly. Clint instantly tensed as his eyes flashed.

"Did you save me just to kill me?" he asked tightly readying himself to go on the offense even in his pitiful bandaged state. Tiny sighed and rubbed his face in his own exhaustion. Oh the soldiers who didn't even trust their own shadows were the most paranoid patients in the _world_.

"No, Mister Barton, I did not. Are you in danger?" Tiny asked quietly. Clint instantly lost the tightly coiled about-to-strike look hovering around him and dropped his face into his hands in exhaustion as well.

"My life is the definition of danger. You have no idea," Clint muttered into his hands as he leaned his forehead against the edge of the laptop that was still running some program. Tiny watched him with a knowing look.

"I assume you won't be willing to share your troubles will you?" he said frankly. Clint scoffed.

"No – afraid not. The less people involved the better," he said darkly.

Tiny gave him wary look. He was the moody _brooding_ type of soldier too.

Lucky him.

_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_

The sound startled them both.

"You're screen is beeping…," Tiny said cautiously pointing to the flashing alert message on _his_ laptop screen. He paused - he didn't even _know_ what the American was doing with his laptop.

Clint's eyes flashed to the screen and he instantly scrambled to pick up the cellphone that Tiny thought was useless – until something green flashed on the laptop screen and the cellphone instantly got connected to his cellular service.

Tiny blinked.

_Who the hell was this man?_

"Can you leave…for just a few minutes?" Clint asked distractedly as he stared at the cellphone in his hand like it was his lifeline and a one way ticket to hell all wrapped in one. Tiny instantly looked put out.

"This is _my_ home…," he muttered. Clint gave him a seriously uncomfortable look.

"Please – I don't know hold long the connection is going to last," he asked with a desperation deep in his strained voice.

Tiny wondered for half a second why this call was so important, but finally relented when it looked like Mister Barton was about to break his personal cell phone in half.

"I hope you know what you are doing, Mister Barton," Tiny said tiredly as he gave one last polite nod and slipped out of the room while quietly shutting the door behind him.

_He'll never understand Americans. _

"Me too, Tiny," Clint said quietly as he mechanically dialed a number he memorized years ago.

_Ring. Ring. _

_Click. _

There was dead _silence_ at the other end of the line – but Clint knew he had picked up.

"Hey, is this the line of an insanely _brilliant_ SHIELD handler who really deserves a raise for his daily troubles and a tall, strong, fresh cup of pure Colombian coffee with milk and 2 spoons of brown sugar in a specific orange coffee mug from Liberia just the way he likes it every morning?" Clint asked in a slightly hesitant voice. There was enough information in there that it would not be written off as a prank call. Even so.

Worst kiss up line _ever_.

"Go jump off a bridge and actually die next time so that I can be free of your insanely hard to keep track of reckless _ass_," was the instantaneous curt reply. Clint smiled fondly for the first time in over 5 hours. It was nice to talk to a friend who he wasn't ridiculously compromised for.

"Love ya too, Coulson. Glad you missed me," Clint said tiredly. He heard his handler take a deep breath before the torrid of questions he knew were coming suddenly broke the dam.

"What the _hell_ was Paris?" Coulson demanded. Clint's eyes clouded over.

"Exactly what _I_ said," he deadpanned. He could practically see his handler's eyes narrow.

"Don't mess with me now, Barton. Tell me what's going on. You have 60 seconds_. Right now_," Coulson said warningly but with a hint of concern deep under his professional displeasure with his wayward field agent.

Clint felt like crying in relief at being able to hear that tone again (and wasn't that the unmanliest sight in the entire world?).

"Where do I even start Coulson?" Clint said with a shaky not fully sane laugh. "We failed our mission? One of the best assassins in Russia came after our ass and tried to burn me alive? My partner, handler and entire organization thought I was dead? That she snapped and killed 11 men with another woman's face? That I had to carry her hyperventilating body out of that city because she didn't think I was real and drove her halfway across the country to avoid being assassinated by her past employers? That instead of taking care of _her_ she ended up taking care of me and my fucked up brunt ass?" Clint said heatedly as his grip on his phone got tighter and tighter until he was nearly about the crack the screen.

"Clint. Clint you need to stay calm," Coulson said carefully. Clint chuckled and shook his head.

"I am calm, Coulson," he said in a freakily calm voice that made Coulson's insides instantly freeze.

"No. This isn't calm. This is you suppressing everything you're feeling, and only broadcasting a thin false layer of calm, Clint," Coulson said guardedly. Clint simply blinked.

"Do you recommend thoroughly freaking out on the nice Hungarian medic that saved my life?" he asked dryly. Coulson winced.

"No. I don't want you to hurt anyone. I never want you to hurt innocent people," Coulson said firmly. Clint sighed and leaned his forehead against the cool table.

"I don't know how innocent he is – but he has been pretty damn helpful," he muttered. Coulson instantly went into worried handler mode.

"Stay-"

"Cautious. I know. Suspect everyone and trust no one but your very own flesh and blood. Got it, Coulson," Clint said blandly – like he has repeated those words a hundred times. Coulson sighed heavily.

"Okay. Smartass comments aside – where is Romanoff?" Coulson said tiredly rubbing a hand over his face. One assassin down – now time to deal with the other one.

_Silence_.

Coulson paused when he got no response.

"_Barton_…?" Coulson said as he dropped the hand from his face and stared at his phone.

_More silence. _

He finally understood no more than 15 seconds of silence later.

"When?" was all Coulson asked in defeat. _This was turning into his worst nightmare. _

"7 hours ago. Last sighted on the highway leading out of Geneva. She saved me from certain death by grubby Russian hands by throwing me over the edge into the water," Clint said vacantly. Coulson frowned deeply.

"Is she…?" he asked hesitantly. Clint instantly shook his head.

"NO. They wanted her _alive_," Clint said sharply – as if the other option was not even possible. They both held back a wince. But alive was not always _unharmed_.

Coulson didn't know what to say after that revelation.

"Coulson…did you guys drop by our original hotel base in Paris? Or did you just follow our trackers to the small roadside one a few hours away from the Swiss border?" Clint asked uneasily. Coulson instantly got shaken out of his slight daze and answered.

"No – we didn't exactly have the time to search the first one. Why? Did you leave somethi- oh," Coulson said instantly cutting himself off as he blinked. _Oh._

"Yeah," Clint muttered.

"I can have someone pick Josie up and keep it on the French base for you until you come back?" Coulson offered tiredly. He couldn't go back himself – but it would be safe. Clint felt a queasy feeling in his stomach at the thought of someone other than Coulson or Natasha touching his bow.

"No other option?" Clint tried feebly. Coulson slowly shook his head.

"I'm afraid not. Sorry," Coulson said genuinely. Clint nodded but left it at that – at least he would get it back at all if he lived through this mess. Clint heard a brief mutter that didn't sound like the familiar tone of his handler he had memorized years ago.

"Is Hill there with you?" Clint asked carefully. He heard a pause that was a split second too long and he knew she was standing right next to his handler.

"Yes – she's here," Coulson said quietly. Clint took a deep breath.

"Tell her we didn't lose our marbles and are not planning to commit high treason and overthrow our organization and all that dramatic shit that goes on in her head. Tell her we're still her agents and not to get her panties in a twist alright?" Clint said warily. _Not yet anyway – not when it counts. _

"Tell her yourself when you get both your asses back in headquarters – but before that, can you do me a favor Clint?" Coulson asked carefully. Clint instantly focused in on his handler's words.

"Of course – anything," he said immediately. He'd do anything for Coulson. Coulson took a deep breath and continued.

"Everyone single person in this country is stuck in this storm. _Everyone_. They can't do anything to her until they reach a Red Room base. So sleep for at least 3 hours. _Right now_. Put the phone down and sleep," Coulson said carefully but with a firmness that always made Clint think twice before he disobeyed.

Damn his handler.

"I-I-I-, "

"You're going to get to her, Clint. You can get her out of whatever shit hole they have her bound up and drugged in. I know you'll get her – but you'll get her faster if you are not half dead. Understand?" Coulson said seriously. Clint wasn't as convinced.

"But-"

"Your handler gave you a direct order. Do you understand what an order means agent Barton?" a new voice said through the phone. Clint instantly narrowed his eyes.

"I really hate your guts, Hill," Clint muttered – he would never admit - even while held at gunpoint - that the little familiarity behind their clashing personalities was actually kind of nice. Hill nearly rolled her eyes – nearly. He never really did learn how to get along with her.

"Singing the same tune for 4 years, Barton. Get some rest," Hill said warningly. Clint huffed.

"Yes, _Sir_," he muttered with the usual sarcastic hint in his voice. He heard shuffling and knew she had passed the phone back to Coulson. The hitch he heard in the older agent's voice instantly gave away what he was about to say.

"Barton. Don't do this on your own. If you wait just a bit longer SHIELD can-," Coulson tried to reason with him, but Clint instantly shot him down.

"Can't follow that order, Coulson. I forgot to mention that our entire mission was hijacked. They knew we were coming. They knew who our target was. They knew what our plan was. There is someone working for Red Room working on the inside, at least in logistics. You should get Hill to look into that – for the safety of all our agents," Clint said warningly. He heard a long tense silence which he knew was full of a loaded staring match between his handler and both their boss. Clint suddenly glanced down at the laptop screen and his eyes fell.

"I have to go soon Coulson – the connection is starting to fade," he said quietly. That got things moving faster at the other end.

"Wait, Barton where are you going? Where do you think she is?" Coulson asked quickly before the line died. Clint suddenly got a clouded look in his eyes.

"Budapest – bye, Coulson," Clint said quietly as he deliberately hung up before Coulson started asking things he couldn't comply with.

The number one plea being – _don't die._ The second plea that Coulson would never ask or even verbalize was the added_ not for her_. But Clint didn't even have a choice in that matter. Natasha was never just a choice – the closet thing that could describe it would be fate – but neither of them believe in fate. It must be something not even they understood themselves.

"There's a comfy couch at the back of the study!" a deep voice suddenly shouted through the closed door.

Clint froze.

"It's rude to eavesdrop on other people's conversations!" Clint shouted back crossly– more than a little pissed at the nosy doctor. He instantly stood up and stomped over towards the couch and threw himself down onto it.

"Stupid doctors…," he grumbled to himself as he instantly curled into himself and tried to sleep – because Coulson was right. Tiny was right too (he had been mentioning it several times by now) but then again when did Clint ever listen to anyone really?

He wrapped his arms around a small red pillow on the couch and tried not to let his mind compare it to what he wanted to hold instead.

He failed. Badly.

"_Tasha_...," he whispered before he slipped away into the world of deep bone tired sleep. He usually never slept deeply – too dangerous. But he was so tired he practically passed out within minutes.

Several hours passed when he finally woke in a cold sweat still in Tiny's study – except it was darker – which mean Tiny had come in here to dim the lights to a more bearable brightness. Clint sleepily scanned the room just out of deeply ingrained habit.

And then the colour instantly drained from his face.

"Oh my god," he said as panic started rising in his chest at the sight of an insanely familiar redhead sitting on the window ledge beside the desk he had been working at all night.

He thought he was going to have a heart attack and die at a young age of 24.

"Hi...," she said carefully. Clint nearly sputtered. _Who was he kidding?_ He was totally sputtering.

"You-you-you're not real," he whispered shakily. She nodded slowly and kept track of his breathing rate – just in case.

"No. I'm not," she said quietly. Clint nearly swallowed his tongue – he was so freaked out.

He wished so hard that he wasn't seeing things - but he knew he was prone to hallucinate when under incredible stress and anxiety. He has _never_ hallucinated about a _living_ person before - and that scared the shit out of him because Natasha was alive. He had to believe she was still alive. If she wasn't alive he was going to break down and lose it. But she said so herself they wanted her alive and until he saw her cold lifeless body and got someone with a mind he trusted more than his own to confirm it he was going to continue believing she was alive damn it.

However, unlike Natasha he could tell this wasn't real just based on the fact that if she was real she wouldn't look as flawless as she did right now sitting in front of him. She should look tired, worn out and exhausted. She should be covered in battle wounds and countless scarps and bruises if she went a full round with Barnes.

But at the same time he would lose what was left of his mind if he saw her like that and couldn't kill the man that put the bruises and scrapes there. It already drove a small part of him insane to know that there was likely an entire _list_ of dirty men who have hurt his partner but unfortunately escaped her own killer wrath and are still breathing out there somewhere. It made his insides burn like he drank a liter of acid not to be able to stick one of his arrows down their throats and stab their eyes out. Anyone who ever did _anything_ to his partner without her explicit permission would die a bloody death at his hands - if she didn't get to them first.

He wasn't lying when he silently offered in the mountains of Romania to hunt down every single one of those bastards and skin them alive for her. If she would let him - he would have calmly picked up his bow and done it in a heartbeat.

Now though, his world was hanging in the balance between fantasy and reality. Clint took a shaky breath and instantly backed away from the Natasha sitting on the windowsill. He nearly stumbled as he hit the wall on the other side of the room.

"You shouldn't be here," he whispered with sweaty hair plastered to his forehead and fear swirling in his eyes. He felt his hands start to shake as he continued to stare at her like she was a ghost.

What was wrong with him?

"You're scared you're losing mind," Natasha answered his panicked thoughts quietly. Clint's eyes suddenly flashed in anger before he exploded.

"Of _course_ I'm fucking scared! How am I supposed to save you if I'm losing my sanity here? What kind of useless partner does that make me?" he shouted across the room. He watched her sharply narrow her eyes like he knew his Tasha would and he paled.

"Don't scream at me Barton - or I'll make sure you _thoroughly_ regret it," she said warningly. Clint suddenly looked like he was going to faint - even her death threats felt real.

"She was right. Hallucinations are too real," he said quietly swaying in place. The detail in which she sat in front of him was stellar.

But his imagination wasn't perfect - the edges were still blurry if he stared at her for too long. But she seemed so solid at the same time. Why was she so real?

She responded almost as if she was reading his thoughts.

"Just because I'm a hallucination doesn't mean I'm some fucked up knock off. God, not even hallucinations get some appreciation for our work nowadays," imaginary Natasha muttered irritably under her breath. Clint watched her as she stubbornly stared out the window beside her, his eyes softened involuntarily.

_Oh, Natasha_.

"You even mutter rudely like her," he said with a soft laugh. Natasha glanced back at him and gave him a pointed look.

"Well obviously - I'm a figment of your imagination. I'm obligated to do whatever you think she would do," Natasha grumbled as she pulled her knees up to her chest on the window ledge. Clint suddenly looked incredibly hopeful.

"Do you know where you are?" he asked as he held his breath. Natasha gave him a careful look but the message was clear; _I'm in your head - I only know what you know. _

"You think I'm in Budapest. Or at least that's where I'll end up if I can't manage to escape and free myself before we get there," she said warily. Clint suddenly looked so determined it completely changed his face which had looked worn out and just tired.

Determination looked good on him.

"I'll find you. I promise. I'll save you this time," he vowed sincerely. _You just need to stop saving me first. _Natasha suddenly lowered her eyes and looked away.

"I know you're going to try," she said quietly. _Doesn't mean you're going to succeed. _Clint suddenly looked highly nervous and uneasy as he slowly approached the redhead sitting by the window.

He knew intellectually that she wasn't real - but Natasha was right, damn does it _feel_ real.

_"_Can I...can I touch you? Are you going to disappear if I try to touch you?" Clint asked shakily reaching out to touch her face but retreating at the last second.

"I don't know," Natasha said guardedly as she watched him edge closer, but avoid direct contact. After a few minutes of uncertain flailing he finally mustered the courage to reach out and cup her face.

She felt _soft_.

"Oh my god," he whispered when he felt warm skin under his palm. His hand started shaking when she reached up and placed her small hand over his much larger one.

It was too real.

He didn't even care if this meant he was truly losing it. He instantly wrapped his arms around the hallucination and held her tightly against his chest. _He knows she's not real._ _He knows she's not real._ _He knows she's not real._ But she _felt_ like her, _smelled_ like her, _looked_ like her and yet...

"You seem so real, but...," he trailed off as a painful expression crossed his face. Natasha answered for him.

"But I'm not perfectly her, right?" she supplied softly. _I'm just a shadow of your spider_. Clint held her even tighter as he slammed his eyes shut.

"No. She would have kicked my ass somehow by now," he whispered with a shaky laugh as he buried his face in her soft red hair. She would have done _something_ unexpected by now.

"But that's not what you want," she said quietly. _You want me to let you hold me and that's what a hallucination would do. _Clint suddenly held her even tighter.

"You're the nicest hallucination I've ever had. Every other one left me feeling cold, alone and suicidal," he whispered with a faraway expression. He felt her instantly shift in his arms – but she didn't pull away.

"Well – we can't have that now can we?" Natasha muttered against his chest. Clint instantly pulled back and an intense focus that only appeared when he was trying to make an impossible shot possible flooded his eyes.

"Just hold on, okay?" Clint asked pleading as he held her face in his bandaged hands. Natasha suddenly narrowed her eyes.

"I can take of myself, Barton," she said warningly. Clint smiled painfully at his beautiful hallucination of his even more beautiful partner. No matter how hard he tried his mind couldn't fully capture her honest beauty though. Because what made Natasha so utterly gorgeous and the most beautiful woman in the world to him was not just her appearance - but the way she carried herself, her superior spy skills, her utter confidence, her grace, her genius and unparalleled ability to kick ass.

_That's why I'm still alive because of you and you're missing because of me._

All he could do was stand there and stare at her ghost in his mind and agree with her because his partner was nothing if not resilient.

"Yes. Of course. Of course you can," he said earnestly while nodding quickly, before his expression grew solemn and slightly wistful. "...but sometimes everyone needs a little help once in a while, right? You have to just hold on and I'll come to bust you right out of there, okay?" he asked sounding more than a little desperate for her to believe him. Maybe he wanted to make himself believe he could do it too.

_Please don't be gone before I get there, Tasha. _

There were still so many things he hasn't told her out of fear of losing her. So many things they haven't done together yet. So many places they haven't gone together yet. So many experiences they haven't had together yet. They still had so many milestones to cross, so many obstacles to overcome, so many things to learn about each other. He wanted to do everything with her. He wanted to explore more of this crazy exciting mess with her. Maybe they haven't quite figured out how they work together yet, maybe they weren't in perfect sync yet - but they were getting closer. Every day he could feel himself get a tiny bit closer to understanding _who_ Tasha really was under the Widow mask. He wasn't ready for it to be over yet. He wasn't ready to say good bye yet.

He stared at the Natasha in his arms right now for a long moment and he must have fallen into a daze and zoned out for a while because she startled him when she suddenly spoke.

"You're crying again," she said with a sigh as she gestured to the silent warm tears falling onto the floor between them. Clint blinked and glanced down at the damp puddle on the floor before he touched his own cheek and felt the wetness rolling down his face.

"I know, I'm weak right?" he asked with a bitter smile.

"Crying...doesn't make you weak," she muttered cautiously. Clint suddenly looked wary.

"You wouldn't have said that a few months ago," he said quietly. Natasha nodded solemnly.

"I'm saying it now. She probably would tell you that in her own weird way. She's changed. You know that," she said quietly. Clint suddenly looked crestfallen and even more depressed - if that was even possible at this point.

"I'm not sure how she would say it though. She still surprises me," he said softly. Maybe that was why his hallucination couldn't imitate Tasha's reactions perfectly.

Nobody could predict exactly how Natasha Romanoff worked and what she would say - not even her partner. Her unpredictability made her even more precious to him. If he lost her he didn't what he would do.

That was actually a lie.

He had a very good idea of what he would do if she died.

"Clint...," she said carefully reading his thoughts, but he just shook his head and held her face between the palms of his hands.

"Don't go then," he begged softly._ If you want me to stay you need to stay with me. _

"You know I don't really have control over this," she said quietly touching his face and stroking his cheek just like he wanted his Tasha to. Clint took a shaky breath as he leaned into her touch and wished it was real. He felt his eyes harden as a cold hard determination settled over him. Natasha paused with her hand on his face and watched him turn his head to plant a firm kiss against the palm of her hand.

"You have _no_ idea how badly I'm going to kill every bastard involved in taking you. No idea," he said darkly. Natasha suddenly looked guarded but didn't move away even as he tightened his grip on her waist. He knew she wouldn't run from his darkness – the fact that it existed at all was probably the only reason she stuck around as long as she did in the first place.

"I'm in your head. I kind of have an idea. It's not going to be pretty," she said carefully. Clint suddenly narrowed his eyes.

"Would you forgive me if I took an arrow and literally stabbed Barnes to death?" he asked seriously. Natasha gave him a wary look.

"Probably not. I'd want to help," she said with a slightly sadistic tint to her sharp smile. Clint nodded as he ran a steady hand through her hair and leaned his forehead against hers.

"_I'd let you_. You can do whatever you want. Just don't be dead or brainwashed when I get there," he pleaded. Natasha gave him a weak sad smile.

"No promises," she whispered as her words ghosted over his lips. He didn't even care she was a ghost right now.

"I can't lose you," he whispered right before he dived into kiss her – but he never got that far.

"What are you doing, Mister Barton?" Tiny asked quietly from behind the kneeling archer crouched on the ground beside the window. Clint's wet eyes flashed open and just like she was gone like red sand flowing through his fingers and he was left clutching at air as her scent faded in an instant like a half-remembered dream.

She disappeared without a trace, but yet left a ghost of her presence on his skin, on his lips and on his soul.

He felt utterly empty and alone without her.

But the worst part was that a small, minuscule part of him was starting to believe she wasn't real at all. That Natasha Romanoff didn't actually exist and he had imagined her up this whole time. Because how could a woman like Natasha - who complimented all the jagged parts of him he didn't think any woman could - _possibly_ exist? How did he get partnered with someone as beautiful as her? How on earth did he somehow get her to want him _back_?

What could he have _possibly_ done in his life that made him worthy of having someone like her?

_Is this what a slow slip into insanity felt like?_

"Nothing. I'm not doing anything," Clint said vacantly as he quickly dragged his arm over his eyes and tried to hide the wetness even if the red tint in his gaze gave it away.

He looked like an utter sobbing mess.

The big guy tactfully kept his questions to himself as he slowly lowered himself down beside the slightly shaking archer. He maintained a foot of distance because of the man's earlier outburst and preference for personal space. They sat in uneasy silence for a long moment as neither knew what to say. Two solitary men forced to occupy the same space.

"Are you a soldier too?" Tiny asked insightfully. He was a senior medical officer - he knew what trained soldiers looked like. Clint chuckled darkly.

"Something like that," he said warily. Tiny studied his face for a long moment before he finally spoke.

"You are not a ground solider I assume? Something more specific?" Tiny asked cautiously. Clint grimaced.

"Pretty specific yeah," he muttered. If black ops agent tasked with killing highly specific criminals - then yeah sure he was a specialized solider of an organization that wasn't anywhere near legal.

No big deal – right?

But if you called his _partner_ a soldier she'd flash you a beautiful dangerous smile and then promptly thigh choke you to death. Clint's mood instantly plummeted when he remembered how her thighs felt around his neck when she playfully took him down in Hong Kong while she was still Natalia.

He felt like he was drowning and there wasn't a drop of water in sight.

A heavy silence suddenly fell between the two strangers – until Tiny finally told him what he has been waiting hours to hear.

"Storm is almost cleared," Tiny said quietly. Clint froze.

"_Good_. That's good," Clint said instantly standing up and steadying himself against the wall just in case the dizziness returned.

It didn't – _thank god_.

"You really can't leave looking like that," Tiny said warily pointing to the scrap of cloth that was currently masquerading as a black shirt he was wearing along with a loose pair of cargo pants. Clint winced.

"Could I borrow…?" he started to ask hesitantly but Tiny just waved his question away.

"Of course you can. There is a smaller coat that belongs to my younger brother hanging in the closet by the front door," he said generously. Clint sighed in relief.

"Thank you," Clint said earnestly before he quickly glanced around and suddenly came to the realization that he didn't know where his backpack and bow was – he _swore_ he had both on him when he fell off the highway.

"Was my equipment on me when you-"

"Yes. Everything is in the closet as well," Tiny said reassuringly. He hadn't touched a thing. Clint took a deep breath and nodded.

"Okay. Okay. What else do I need?" Clint asked himself under his breath. Tiny tilted his head to the side.

"You're going to need a ride," Tiny said warily watching the archer mumble to himself. Clint paused.

"I'll…find one," he muttered. _Steal one if I have to._ Tiny sharply shook his head.

"A car might not be fast enough if they already had a good head start," he said warningly. Clint clenched his teeth and tried to keep his anger and frustration in check.

"Planes and trains will be out of service for several more hours. I need to start moving _now_," Clint said firmly – but not unkindly. This man had helped him so much in such a small amount of time after all.

"So then why not take my car?" Tiny offered unexpectedly. Clint instantly faltered.

"I can't take your car, Tiny. I don't think I can bring it back," Clint said hesitantly. _It might get irreparably damaged or destroyed along the way._ Tiny gave him a firm look.

"Then let me drive you out of the storm at least," Tiny insisted. Clint rapidly shook his head. _Oh no he wasn't dragging any more random people into his fucked up life. _

"I can't-"

"Do you know your way around the roads with a storm like this cloaking the country?" Tiny asked knowingly. Clint instantly scowled.

"I can drive in a storm!" he said indignantly. _Who did he think he was? _

Oh right – he didn't know who he was. Didn't even have a clue he was housing and helping a dangerous American assassin – not an honorable solider. Clint hasn't been a solider in years.

"Do you even _know_ where you're going?" Tiny challenged him. Clint tensed.

"Of _course_ I know. I'm going to Budapest," he said heatedly. Tiny narrowed his eyes.

"And what then? What will you do when you get there? She could be anywhere. Budapest is the capital of my country, Mister Barton. You can't possibly search every building in the city," Tiny said warningly. _Do not throw yourself into the fire until you are sure you can handle the heat._ Clint tried to defend himself – but he realized too late with a heavy heart that Tiny was right.

"She'll be in an underground soviet base," Clint said in defeat. Tiny grimaced. Russians were still working secretly in his country – it gave him _Goosebumps_.

"Do you know anyone who might know where that is?" he asked doubtfully. Clint's expression instantly darkened.

"_No_. Everyone who would know is either dead or already lef- wait," Clint backtracked as something suddenly occurred to him.

If he was still alive – would they really leave? Would they really let him live after all that trouble he supposedly caused them by '_stealing'_ their top model asset?

No – they wouldn't.

Red Room was the type to clean up all loose ends.

"I need to go back into Geneva," Clint said suddenly with a million thoughts flying through his overactive mind as he quickly started stuffing Tiny's cell phone and certain papers he had been scribbling on into his pocket before he practically flew out of the room. Tiny followed after the suddenly _very_ active archer and trailed after him with a bewildered look.

"What? Why are we going back to Geneva?" Tiny asked seriously confused. Clint instantly sprinted (more liked half limped/half hopped) down the hall and dived into the supply closet by the front door. He started tugging down the smallest (_still_ massive) coat he could find and picked up his trustworthy bow and backpack full of supplies.

"I have an apartment there. It _has_ to be swarming with Russians. If I can catch one and get him to talk I'll know exactly where the base in Budapest is. If I can't find her before then – at least I'll know where she is going to end up," Clint said quickly as he turned around fully ready to brave the cold and anything else that stood in his way between him and his goal to find his partner. Tiny saw the determination blaze in his eyes and finally just decided to go with the flow of the archer's eccentric mood swings.

"Garage is down those stairs and to your left," Tiny said in defeat as he grabbed his coat as well. Clint gave him a grateful look.

"Thank you," he said sincerely. Tiny shook his head with a faraway look on his face.

"No problem," he said quietly as he led the archer down the hall.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

10 minutes later two of the unlikeliest former (Clint still doubted Tiny was currently in the army) military men were strapped into a car driving through a much more manageable snow storm back into the city.

"How far into the city is your apartment?" Tiny asked carefully driving through the snow and being mindful of the slippery dangerous roads they were traveling on.

"Not that far from here. Maybe another 5 minutes," Clint said quietly.

"Do you have a plan?" Tiny asked glancing at the guarded looking American sitting in the seat beside him.

"Wait outside and see if we see one of the Russian bastards that are probably waiting to ambush me?" Clint asked warily. Tiny paused.

"How about you go in there and draw them out and then we'll disable all of them except for one?" Tiny said gently. Clint instantly scowled to himself.

"That works too," he muttered. There was another brief silence before Tiny broke that one too.

"So who exactly are we-" Tiny tried to ask but Clint instantly cut him off.

"Nope. We are _not_ doing this life story sharing business. You know I don't trust you right?" Clint asked warningly. _I just need you to get to her. I'd do anything to get to her. Anything. _Tiny nodded slowly.

"Yes. Perfectly understandable," he said calmly. Clint narrowed his eyes.

"So then you know I'm going to ask – why are you here?" Clint asked guardedly. Tiny took a deep breath but kept his cool.

"You remind me of someone I used to know long ago," Tiny said solemnly.

"Who?" Clint asked uneasily. Tiny suddenly looked incredibly uncomfortable.

"I don't exactly remember. Haven't you ever helped someone just because something inside of you was begging you to?" Tiny asked hesitantly. Clint instantly looked away as he tried to keep his own currently painful memories at bay. A winter night nearly a year ago when he had an arrow pointed at a redheaded woman's throat and what he felt then was the same type of feeling Tiny was describing right now.

_Yes of course he did. _

His silence was more than enough of an answer.

"Do you miss her?" Tiny asked quietly. Clint took a deep breath and stared up at the snow falling against the window with an intense expression of longing,that was so painful to look at that Tiny was forced to avert his eyes back to the road before he got sucked into the archer's intense world of misery.

"Yeah. Yeah, I miss her," Clint whispered as he tried not to choke on his words. _I miss her so much it physically hurts to breathe. _

_I need to get her back. I need my partner back. _

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

.

_._

_._

_._

.

.

.

.

.

**A/N: So, who is Tiny? You should know by now I don't make random characters just for fun. **

**Last prep chapter – I promise! Now we'll see some intense action – Barton style. **_**His**_** special brand of interrogation, deeply hidden and locked away but existent ability to be ruthless, crazy insane driving/piloting and of course non-SHIELD regulated skill at infiltration.**

**How far would Agent Barton go to save his partner? How many rules and regulations is he willing to bend? How much bloodshed is she worth? How strong are his morals versus his desires really? He'd sacrifice his own life to save her for sure (that's not new) – but would he forfeit anyone else's?**

**O.O ?! Real darkness is not always about violence – it's about the heavy choices you make in life. **

**I'll let you think about that. **

**P.S. Would you like to see what's happening to Natasha right now while Barton is in the process of figuring out where exactly she is on the Euro-map between Geneva and Budapest – or would you like to stay in the dark and find out what happened to her along with Clint when he **_**finally**_** finds her (soon)? **

**Things will be intense when he finds her. Remember when I said Budapest is the worst experience of their lives? **

**Do you miss Natasha **_**now**_**? You better miss her now :P**


End file.
